Category Archives: Haibun

In the City – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 12

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I am a windy city, mid-westerner transplanted in this land of giants, a southern city nestled between looming blue mountain peaks. My home sits under a giant star on a century-old plot steps away from the site of World War victory gardens that have sprouted rows of two-storied townhouses.

I will likely breathe my last here in this place of contradictions; of backwoods red-neckers and modern progressive high-risers, old-timers and Gen Z’s. It’s ironic that I moved here to be closer to my children and grandchildren. I rarely see them, life and busyness nipping at their heels, but I love it here just the same. This strange place, with its lilac-honeysuckle infused breezes, evergreen spaces, magnolia trees and mist-draped hollows, is growing on me. My Chicago twang has noticeably tempered to a smooth southern drawl. Y’all come see me sometime.

pause with me a spell
where sunlight bleeds through pine trees
and mourning doves coo

we’ll  sip sweetened tea
and talk about the weather
while nor’easterns swell

~kat

A Haibun/with 2 Senryu  for NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 12 Challenge Prompt: write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses – but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun.

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Daily Poem #9

I imagine words that become poems are like fireflies, floating in my head; flying embers, glowing amber-red, ever so briefly, lost forever if I don’t snatch them up, singeing my fingertips ink black.

shush, can you hear it?
the flicker of a new thought
becoming a word

~kat

An “Extreme Haibun” (55 words maximum for the whole poem) for Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem Prompt.


Core Beliefs – MLMM Sunday Writing Challenge

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“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” Of course this is true and reasonable, allowing us to agree to disagree in many cases, while still respecting the person holding said opinion.

Except…(Now if you are thinking, here comes the “but” you would be right. This is a very big BUT!)…except when opinions are touted as absolute, unwavering truth, despite known indisputable facts to the contrary, I am afraid I cannot agree to disagree, and I most certainly cannot respect people who hold these erroneous opinions. That is the rub, isn’t it? It is why we can’t get along anymore. It is why our society is so polarized and fractured.

The opinionated for opinion’s sake will often say, “It’s impossible to know the truth anymore, anyway.” It is tricky, I’ll give you that, especially in this age of special interest-influenced news outlets and hostile other-government attacks on us through social media, as well as our softening aversion to lies and alternative facts. It is especially troublesome in this age where winning elections for power rather than for service’s sake is the modus operandi of our politics; where facts are inconvenient truths that must be obstructed.

I have decided I will not have opinions anymore. I know I am entitled to them. That’s not the point. Opinions are rubbish if they are not informed by truth, (in my opinion of course) and since we are living in a time of open season on the truth, it is best to keep any opinions I might have, even though I am now loath to have them, to myself.

It goes without saying that I would appreciate others keeping their opinions to themselves as well. If I want someone’s opinion, I will certainly ask for it. In other words, I won’t be asking for it. As for the truth, I don’t particularly care to know that either. Truth in the absolute sense is dead. It can’t be trusted. Which creeps into a new category…faith.

Let’s not go there. Let’s just not.

Oh no you didn’t…
how do you do it, straight-faced,
believe in the lie?

~kat

This Haibun for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt: For this challenge I want you to examine one of your core beliefs.


Shy Blush – A Haiku

it’s not modesty
flushing my face deep crimson,
it is passion’s rage

~kat

For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, Prompt words: shy (modest) & blush (flush).


Preta & Guisard – Friday’s AND Saturday’s Words of the Day

I missed posting yesterday’s word of the day, but as a bonus, today you shall have two lovely words to wrap your brain around! Friday’s word, Preta, a noun from Hindu Mythology meaning a wandering or disturbed ghost. And Saturday’s word, Guisard, a noun the means a person who wears a mask; mummer.

Given the season and impending dark night of all souls hallow, I thought it would be fitting to combine the two in a Haiku. Here’s a bit of history on the two from Dictionary.com:


Preta finds its origins In Sanskrit where e is a long vowel ( it is also transliterated as ē). Hindi grammarians correctly analyzed e as a monophthong replacing an earlier dipthong ai; thus the Sanskrit adjective preta, “gone before, deceased” is from an earlier form, ‘praita’, formed from the adverb and prefix ‘pra’ – “forth” and ‘ita’ – “gone”. Pra- is cognate with the Latin and Greek prepositions and prefixes, ‘prō’/‘pró’ (Greek) and ‘prae’, all of them meaning “before; in front of”. The Sanskrit participle ‘ita’ corresponds exactly with the Latin ‘itum’, past participle is the verb ‘īre’, “to go” and the Greek verbal adjective ‘itós’ “passable”, all from the Proto-Indi-European root ‘ei’, ‘i’ -“to go”. Preta entered English in the early 19th century. From wictionary we learn that: a Preta is a hungry ghost (a supernatural being in Buddhist folklore, the spirit of a greedy person whose divine retribution is to never be sated). How many a weary folk has woken to the first day of November the victim of mischievous antics of Pretas whose quest for sweets was not sated, in the form of TP garlands and raw egg peltings?!


And then there is Guisard, a Scottish and North English word. The first part of the word, guise, in Scotland and northern England means “to appear or go in disguise.” The suffix -ard, occasionally spelled -art, is now used mostly in a pejorative sense for someone who does something habitually or excessively, e.g., drunkard, braggart. Guisard entered English in the 17th century. Soon comes Halloween, when greedy, giddy guisards roam the streets, banging on doors, declaring their mantra, “trick or treat”. A wise somebody will appease these mummers by offering them the sweets they crave lest they transform into scary pretas with a vendetta to settle!

It’s all in good fun of course! An annual ritual that hearkens to an age when the veil between the living and the dead was not quite as pronounced. Our ancestors solemnly remembered and honored the dead more formally; gone but definitely not forgotten. Today we passingly engage this annual ritual in sport, sending our costumed children to the streets for a night of innocent begging. But the thinness of the veil is still there, souls lurking in the shadows, which adds to the drama of this dark, dark time.

These days, I must admit I turn my porch light out, not because I don’t enjoy the onslaught of tiny ghouls and gremlins, but because they terrify my fury housemates. We sit in darkness to the sound of potter-pattering feet outside our door…and entertain the lore of my ancestors, setting a place of honor at my table for loved ones passed. Sometimes I light a candle…or two or three to let them know I remember. I feel their presence ever so near. It could very well be my imagination, but there is something to this ancient dark night of all souls. Something indeed!

this dark night of souls
comes guisards begging for treats
pretas in the mist

~kat