Tag Archives: Haibun

Labor Day thoughts

Today I spend the long weekend Monday off in bed with books and tea and catching up on some blog hop. Today Canada celebrates Labor day in celebration of the special significance for the labor movement in the country. It is a public holiday and the unofficial end of the summers as students return from the summer break tomorrow.

Labor has always been quite a confusing term for me, which first started with the question: Am I a part of the labor? the obvious answer was No if you consider the definition for white-collar, blue-collar and pink-collar jobs. Traditionally, the blue-collar jobs, which are of manual labor were the only jobs known, hundred years ago, we owe most of our labor laws to these folks.

When I was a kid, with no reference or clue about this day, I still knew the importance of labor and how we owe our smooth lives to many of these workers who work hard from earliest daylight to the late-night, much after we have put our work-life behind us. I remember the lessons my parents gave me on always being grateful and appreciative of the workers we encountered in our day and how their effort benefitted us and we needed their assistance always.

For years, I never understood my dad’s roles and responsibilities at work except that he always had a line of workers outside his office whenever I visited him there. Many of them visited him at our home with gifts from their hometown – especially fruits and grins from their fields and farms back home. It amazed me to know they always maintained one job in the city and also went back home to manage farms regularly whose produce was exported or consumed within the village. It taught me the importance of passion and hard work by looking at how my father was always understanding of their situations and helped them as he could. He worked along with these folks as much as he could – being available and guiding and managing operations of the factory he worked in – traits all three of his kids have learned by following his example.

dreams linked to pay checks
mouths to feed, new life to make
parents show us way

******

Inspired by Haibun Monday Prompt

[I am taking part in this month’s #MyFriendalexa campaign by Blogchatter ]

********

check out my weekly [almost] newsletter here

Where the path leads

I only follow the trees. I walk where the path leads me, away from the noises of the traffic, into the forest bordering the busy roads.  The little bridges become my resting stops – taking in the surrounding peace, the music of the water passing below me, the occasional kid on the bike ringing his bell to warn the walkers. I often walk with music plugged in my ears but not when I enter such trails. these trails demand the respect and attention that we humans have stopped paying to nature, not without consequences though.  So I walk; different days, different colors, different company but a single thought – I am blessed to be finally able to appreciate the beauty and the uses of being surrounded by nature. 

holding hands, together
not knowing where the path led
love made me see stars

 

===

Inspired by Crimson’s Creative Challenge#34 and linked to Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Poetry challenge

 

Family

The reason I think of him is that my mother mentioned that it is his death anniversary today. Years of looking at the black and white photo in our home, with a dry flower garland around it most days, I never realized the date. The year, I remembered – from the moment I could connect that the year on the photo was also the year I was born in.

The reason I mentioned him today was another relative being in similar pain, I heard he was before he died – he had oral cancer. My mother tells me about the days he would moan in pain and there was nothing anyone could do. There were not enough pain killers 30 years back. Nor was there any cure for him.

I do not know him enough. Just that he was a really good father, a simple honest man who died in pain, but content to see his family around him. My grandfather never saw the majority of kids of my generation in the family but my grandmother was sure, he picked us all before we left heaven to arrive on the earth.

the fading memories
walking through unknown trails
circling family lines

==

Haibun for Dverse Poets

Holding to the old …

The new year celebrations are over for likes of me – specifically for the people of my age. The religious calendar followed at my home differs though. It will be on fourteenth that the month of kharmas ( inauspicious days as per Hindu astrological calculations) will be over. January fourteenth marks the accepted and expected end of winters in my part of the country. This will be celebrated by a bonfire , festive dinner menu and passing gifts to the loved ones , prayers to the local gods for new crop etc

January musings

I have never before paid attention to these rituals in the house , except for arranging gifts assigned to me and making sure that essential snacks are ordered online and delivered on the mentioned date. Me and husband will wait for my mother-in-law to prepare the sweets and once it has been offered to the gods , it will be given to the people in the house. This year it’s not much different but I feel compelled to honor the traditions and to know about them more. I have a sudden urge to be a part of the celebrations of my religion and to make them a part of my own life , without feeling like a guest.
This January came with news of moving away from my family and to have a new start in a faraway city. This month just got a completely different meaning for me in terms of new year , new month , new life perhaps. And I seek to know my roots better , before this shift. I wish I had more time to treasure all that I have taken for granted so far.
new chapter begins
the leaves become the roots
new flowers from old ..
*****
{This is my attempt at a haibun after years so I admit I am way out of practice for the form.}
Linked to Dverse Poets and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday

A to Z challenge : Praise the “cooks”

candles flickered,
casting fun shadows on wall
hungry eyes look bored.

He was late tonight. The head witch Tracy sat impatiently at the door step waiting for him. The new comers to the witch family , sat impatiently around the dinner table , staring at the food which had gone cold already. Finally footsteps were heard from far away. He was still two streets away when Tracy ordered the candles to be lit and the food to be roasted once more. He liked his meat warm and chewy unlike the rest who did not care a bit for her cooking. And so , she made them wait every night for him. Little did they know , he liked to act important, hence the deliberate delay every night. It was after all a good decision to host the witches , he thought to himself as he entered his house, specially Tracy who loved to cook for anyone who cared to praise her.

==
Inspired by the theme at

Gift of Love

They were not poor. They were saving. For each other , for the future. For the life ahead- not better or worse ’cause they were best together and they valued it lot. This support , this silent understanding , this strength to smile for each other, all this alone made them proud and happy.

But Like most girls, she loved gifts. And like many guys, he was a shy clueless fellow who just knew to love but not express.
Yet he knew how to make her happy. How to see that shine in her eyes , every time they met.28072011021

 

No gold or silver
to offer you tonight,just
colors to bind us

Isn’t that the reason God made flowers ? For a guys like that.

 

==

He claims love

When love knocks your door, oh wait , love is not that polite. It has a nasty habit of poking you , nudging you , teasing you and winking shamelessly at you when you are with that special someone or thinking about him later on. The whole world might await or ask about it in whispers and you will walk away, lying about it – to yourself and to others.

Then one day , lying on the grass , watching the sunlight play blinking games with you, you feel the butterflies in your stomach as he leans over you and kisses you, the very kiss you dreamed about from weeks just happens without a warning or planning. While you were waiting for grand signs, love came and made home in your heart and his in subtle ways on just another day.

That night , you write in your diary, with most sheepish grin and stars in your eyes. you declare in capital letters to yourself, “I AM IN LOVE”.

And life goes on. In love. With your love. For his love.
The moments melt , like yin and yang , like smiling tears or tearful smiles , like a make up kiss or the useless fight.
You are not you. He is not him.
“We” live to love.

Early not,nor late
the world will hear the music
his love claims me

For lonely hearts

Every heart is a room. with secret corners , sunny windows and some windows shut close. Trivial whispers circulate the room all day and more in night. this room has no walls though. you make one whenever and wherever you want. You let few people in, keep some out, throw some out after some time, and some you keep missing even after they walk out. and once in a while some one lets you in their space. A space you were never willing to enter, let alone stay. Gradually, you make it a second home. with a feeling that you belong there, with a wish to forever belong there, you keep unpacking baggage one stuff at a time each day , and packing it all a bit too many times. You dream of being asked to forever stay there, of making a passage from your heart to this – once and for all. Even a minuscule chance at such life keeps you smiling for hours. And then one day …. who knows where it will lead you …

sad that autumn comes
once the spring and summers pass
her loneliness stays.

Come back,will you ?

From Magpie Tales

desires blossom
seeds of not so random thoughts
grow deep in my head

It was dream, now I know. But I wish I had not been smiling about it still. Friends adorning the flashing images like jewels in a king’s crown. But does my life looks any brighter ?  Isn’t it obvious I was thinking of you subconsciously ? Laughing with a childhood friend on a silly joke , teaching how to make tea for another , meeting two of them for lunch , and suddenly finding myself alone in bed. The dream was still on i assume since i was not in my own bed. I do not want to think about the feeling of being in his bed – he who swore to never return.

pain flows,relished
in the bitter taste of tears
painted in my dreams

Isn’t it foolish to have my joys at mercy of other’s presence. Or is it a valid human behaviour to miss the people we care for. Only if some one cared enough to notice that. I pick each dream and replace the people in them with one from my present. The ones whose thought make me smile – not as good as the dream but at least i know it’s for real.

.

.

Written for Magpie Tales , 3WW , Sensational haiku Wednesday , Monday Writing prompt

Cooked memories

You love your eggs half-cooked and you never ceased to remind me of that fact. Every breakfast of mine including eggs will ensure we have this very conversation ending when I would invite you for breakfast at my place and promise to make it according to your taste. Though you never came, I do practice making half-cooked eggs – perfect enough for me to nibble the corners and leave the rest for you to finish out of my hands.

shadows resonate
the tears one try to suppress;
silence showers pain.

 

 

Finally i managed to write a haibun as prompted by Victoria here.  Ideas for the post from Magpie Tales [image] , Haiku heights , Sensational Haiku Wednesday