Mountain Fog [Free Verse]

fogged in at a teahouse,
a growing gray of view,

this world lacks 
sharp lines,
excepting the hint of:

-a sloping roofline
&
-a building's corner

 these lines are 
sharp relative to
the amorphous gray;

but fuzzy compared to 
the same line's clarity 
on a blue sky day

now,
they're blurred, 
as if the village
had been painted by a
skilled - but lazy -
painter,

a sumi-e master
with a melancholy soul

Painted World [Haibun]

The river glides like a glassy sheet. It seems to steam, but it's just fog forming over the frigid water that is nevertheless a reservoir of heat compared to the freezing air above. The fog erases the sharp edges that make the world seem real -- neither painting nor figment. The far shore is a brush-dabbed fiction... and I may be, also. The early morning cold affects my brain in the same manner that the fog influences the scene. 

river fog
makes the cold morning
a painted scene

Cloud Ruba’iyat [Day 9 NaPoMo: Ruba’i]

[Ruba’i is a Persian form of poetry written in four lines, i.e. one quatrain. A ruba’iyat is a collection of such poems. [These quatrains aren’t necessarily thematically or narratively connected.] The most famous such collection in English translation is Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam. In English language ruba’i, the most popular rhyme scheme is A-A-B-A, but A-A-A-A is also popular — not to mention dispensing with rhyme altogether.]


1.)
clouds drift, unrushed, across skies of blue
tranquil spies that follow stuck like glue
no gains or losses are made in this game
for “heed the wind” is the only rule



2.)
to hide a mountain takes a special cloud
the mountain may lack color, but it’s proud
its steely, silvery gray stands manly
so neither white nor grime will enshroud



3.)
still cloud, I find troubling your lack of speed
it’s like you’ve stopped to draw a bead on me
those untethered should take a roaming spree
hasn’t anyone told you that you’re free?



4.)
wispy crystalline cloud high above
your shape won’t be discussed by those in love
’cause no one’s lying back this frigid day
wearing fur-lined coats, and hats, and gloves

FOGGY HAIKU

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cloud fallen
resting on muddy ground
and limp dry grass


lulled to sleep
staring out a window
into the fog


faint edges
reality is swallowed
by the fog


foggy morn
black branch scribbles
in the gray


what shapes become,
edges softened and deformed,
fog monsters

Gray Day Haiku


palm trees waving
under gray, stormy skies
delusion rocked

 

foggy city
bridge top corner juts
from river’s cloud

 

monochrome town
fog drained your varied hues,
what feats light works

 

cloudy mountain
layers of gray stay silent
keeping secrets

 

vodka, no ice
peering out a window
into nothing

POEM: Fog Monster

fog followed us down the valley
in a relentless glacial flow
ahead lea, aft a soft white wall
lost, the mountainous tableau



who is chased by a dragging cloud
pulled over the land like a cover?
it’s not mustard gas creeping in
just water drops caught mid hover



well, i can’t speak for one and all
but i found my pace did quicken
when sound roams free, but sight ‘s restrained
the old nerves tend to kick in