Friday, September 17, 2010
Haiku Friday: Fall
It is the very start of fall here-- the leaves are just starting to change, and it is thrilling to see. I sit here wearing a sweater, because it is that kind of evening.
Perhaps fall has not quite fallen where you are, but let's haiku about it anyways. It can be anything related to fall, and this week we are going to do something special with the form. Just make it two short lines (rather than three), and don't worry about the syllables. The chill in the air invites brevity.
Here is mine:
A flash of red beneath my shoe,
Death to Life, death to life.
Now it is your turn...
Comments:
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The leaves are pink here in Audobon Park and the air is crisp
We play football and ignore the future.
I walked by the library at dusk
He took my hand and said, "Come with me." I did.
We play football and ignore the future.
I walked by the library at dusk
He took my hand and said, "Come with me." I did.
# posted by 
: 12:17 AM
: 12:17 AM
In the fall, the doves come in hundreds.
The last one tastes better than the first.
Pickles the Cat
The last one tastes better than the first.
Pickles the Cat
# posted by : 12:21 AM
: 12:21 AM 
crisp air crips leaves,
Love to see the seasons change in OREGON.
In california They do not. In Mich? They change a little TOOO much.
ON sunday guess who is coming to dinner? ( for 3 days, actually)
GINGER GINGER GINGER!!!
Love to see the seasons change in OREGON.
In california They do not. In Mich? They change a little TOOO much.
ON sunday guess who is coming to dinner? ( for 3 days, actually)
GINGER GINGER GINGER!!!
Tyd--
I have been puzzling over this haiku of yours:
crisp air crips leaves,
Love to see the seasons change in OREGON.
I have come to the conclusion that it is brilliantly subversive. The pastoral setting you describe at one level rests easily with our notions of verdant, peaceful Oregon. But then, BAM, you upset our expectations by slipping in the reference to the Crips, the most violent of the West Coast gangs (who flourish in Oregon). What is it the Crips "leave," we wonder? Bodies? Crack vials? The shattered dreams of urban Portland?
It cuts to the heart of the hidden duality of a place like Oregon, which is BOTH verdant forest and violent gangland distopia.
Well played, Tyd, well played.
I have been puzzling over this haiku of yours:
crisp air crips leaves,
Love to see the seasons change in OREGON.
I have come to the conclusion that it is brilliantly subversive. The pastoral setting you describe at one level rests easily with our notions of verdant, peaceful Oregon. But then, BAM, you upset our expectations by slipping in the reference to the Crips, the most violent of the West Coast gangs (who flourish in Oregon). What is it the Crips "leave," we wonder? Bodies? Crack vials? The shattered dreams of urban Portland?
It cuts to the heart of the hidden duality of a place like Oregon, which is BOTH verdant forest and violent gangland distopia.
Well played, Tyd, well played.
Not really many gangs in Portland I don't think... but if there are they probably just steal tractors.
Might ahve been a typo.
Might ahve been a typo.
anon 4:11, i am in waco, but just remembering how invigorating the fall air is in the northern midwest.
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# posted by : 7:07 PM
: 7:07 PM << Home
