haiku

Stuccoed sky

One of my favorite things today, a haiku I wrote while looking up at the ceiling.

I was lying on the floor, listening to music, feeling stuck. I looked up and began seeing images in the midst of the textured ceiling. I spotted what looked like an older man and another that looked like the skeleton of a dog’s head.

I saw the resemblance of this evening with that of a summer’s day. Yet these clouds did not move. I counted syllables and wrote a haiku.

like the clouds above
the ceiling holds figures too
while I lie here

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haiku

Haiku queue

It wasn’t cabin fever that pushed me to go outside today, but rather my frustration with a work assignment that did. I needed to get out and walk.

As I made my way back home, I came up with the following description: Went on a much needed walk and came across spring. It turns out the description can be split into two stanzas, seven syllables and five syllables, respectively. I was onto a haiku without knowing it.

It’s interesting how I always seem to come up with the last two stanzas of a haiku and always have trouble with the first. It happens to me often. I know I have a list of unfinished haiku somewhere.

despite all of this
went on a much needed walk
and came across spring

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quick thoughts, Uncategorized

Life, summarized

I woke up this morning with the beat of “Lost in My Mind” playing in my head.

I wasn’t sure why it was there in the first place, but it became clearer as I listened to the lyrics.

How’s that bricklayin’ coming?
How’s your engine running?
Is that bridge getting built?
Are your hands getting filled?

Won’t you tell me my brother?

The message reminded me of what the midnight muse was trying to tell me a couple of weeks ago.

tend to your garden
all those things you said you would
even now they call

It seems that my inner self is trying to remind me of something that I have forgotten. Not in reprimand nor in judgment, but in subtle reintroduction. A gentle prompting to get back to what I’ve lost sight of.

The phone camera fell out of my hands and captured this this morning.
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haiku, Travels

Midnight muse

I was awakened in the middle of the night by an unfamiliar sound, one that grew as the wind picked up outside. Not making much of it, I shifted in bed and closed my eyes.

Again, I was awakened. This time not by sound but by words. I reached out for my notebook that was lying on the floor and began writing.

tend to your garden
all those things you said you would
even now they call

I settled back into bed. The sound outside persisted, but I turned away my ear. The words inside insisted, yet I listened.

go outside and see
hoping that the wind go down
will not make it stop

I got up and stumbled through the hall. The sound was coming from some metal decor my mom had put up. I took both down and made my way back to bed.

ahora si ya
puedo irme a dormir
bueno, lo dudo

What my writing looks like in the middle of the night and inscribed in the dark.
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haiku

Street poetry

I was about to cross the street when I noticed a pattern all too familiar — 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. A haiku.

I was taken aback and, out of excitement, pulled my friend out of traffic for her to see it. I was ecstatic.

You see, haiku have been a thing. I wrote three of them the day before and was already in the practice of counting my thoughts’ syllables. Now, the syllables were in front of me.

This haiku is by John Morse and is part of the NYC Department of Transportation’s Curbside Haiku, a safety education program and public art campaign that’s dispersed throughout the city.

It was a weekend of poetry, and I could not have been happier.

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haiku

Counting syllables

I wrote three haiku this morning, the most I’ve ever written in a day (I’m still surprised myself). They all came out of my journey to NYC today.

I was hesitant to leave the house without my camera out of fear that I’d be missing out on the opportunity to take some cool pics, but something inside me didn’t want to.

my inner writer
doesn’t want to take pictures
she just wants to write

Because I was running late, I was half-expecting (or more so convinced) that I wouldn’t make it to the bus terminal in time. I thought I had two more stops to go.

it’s one stop away
that alone gave me some hope
as long as I ran

I made it (with literally a minute to spare, no lie) and settled in. An hour into the trip, I began writing and came across a blog post that got me thinking.

I tend to latch on
to things I do not want
out of fear of loss

Interestingly enough, I came across this and the morning went full circle.

@davidshrigley
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Uncategorized

Paint your veggies and eat them too

This morning I decided to head out to the Somerville Winter Farmers Market to partake in Urban Sketchers Boston, a group that gathers weekly to sketch. I’ve been once before but wanted to get back into it again.

I felt a bit of anxiety as I arrived due to the amount of people that were there, but the sound of live jazz coming from the café helped ease me.

Once in the market’s main area, I walked around to take it all in: fresh vegetables, hanging plants, pastries. My anxiety still lingered, so I went to the market’s second floor to see what else I could get my eyes on.

I eventually found a stand lined with books on sale from the local public library. And there, looking right at me, was a copy of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (I had been in search of it up to that point, since I want to use a passage for an upcoming blog post).

Astounded, I picked up Fahrenheit and asked the sellers if I could take a picture of the quote I was looking for. But before I began leafing through the pages, it occurred to me to ask how much the book was going for. The price could not have been better: one dollar, along with everything else.

With that in mind, I jumped to see what else they had to offer. I came across Haiku in English edited by Jim Kacian, Love Poems by Pablo Neruda, and D.I.Y.: Design it Yourself (Design Handbooks) edited by Ellen Lupton.

These were only three out of the nine that I bought. The other titles include:

  • Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
  • A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
  • Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
  • The Rolling Stone Interviews edited by Jann S. Wenner
  • The Neighborhood Project: Using Evolution to Improve my City, One Block at a Time by David Sloan Wilson

I was in heaven. Each of these books touched topics that have recently had personal significance. I can’t shy away from saying that it felt as though it was meant to be.

Content with my purchase and with my hands full, I went downstairs to finally see what I was going to draw. I landed on a vegetable stand at the very entrance of the farmers market, trying not to be in people’s way.

I started off drawing the stand, but decided to watercolor a watermelon radish at the very end.

The radish was striking. I drew and painted the radish on-site, but later added the text, which was an idea I took from fellow artist Kate.

Artist: @mightydays

I was really impressed with her work. The shadowing within the box and detail of the leaning squash at the top stand out, with the hidden letters adding another layer of interest.

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Uncategorized

The only, a haiku

Here’s this week’s haiku to set the mood. It took me more than an hour to come up the first two lines, but they flow really nicely.

I maneuvered through Monday morning with this thought: I really am only here, so I will be mentally present where I am, because that’s all there is.

I am very imaginative and have a tendency to be in my head, picturing myself everywhere else but where I am.

It sounds dreamy (and it literally is!), but it actually hurts me when I don’t have an anchor — something to remind me that out of all the imagined scenarios and places I can see myself in, my life is right here, right now in Boston.

This haiku is for the dreamers out there like myself.

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