the elephant
they said was on a rampage
just had a bad toothache
Raging Elephant [Haiku]
2
Tag Archives: nature
Drunken Tree Haiku
Sky Burial [Tanka]
circling raptors sweep down onto the platform; they peck and tear; when sun-bleached bones remain, nature's hard work begins
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Labyrinthine Lake [Haibun]
Patches of grassy land stand above the water. They lop up the lake into a labyrinth of passageways. Even in a shallow draft canoe, one can often see past the phumdi grass, but still one must know the tiny isles or be trapped among them. a narrow boat silently glides between floating islands
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Bone Mountain [Haibun]
The landscape is strewn with boulders, its topography formed from piles of them, its flat fields dotted with them. These boulders are the remnants of a once mighty mountain -- an ancient mountain. People stand in awe of those rough, angular slabs of granite, standing a mile high. But those are the young whippersnappers. This mountain is so old that it's just a pile of bones, devoid of connective tissue or fleshy covering. It's a corpse of a mountain that has half buried itself. the ancient mountain is now bone-smooth boulders its age unsung
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Spotted Deer [Haibun]
Spotted deer framed in a glade, the warm morning light showing each coat to be a distinct shade of tawny brown. Two deep brown eyes - glassy but lively - keep watch, while the herd hangs heads low, grazing lazily on the overgrown greenery. The deer mill about so languidly that one could count each one's spots. spotted deer, grazing in a glade, one stands sentry
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The Perils of Watching One’s Step [Tanka]
looking down from blue skies and sparse clouds my next look up the ceiling has lowered and rain is on its way
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Evergreen Lullaby [Tanka]
evergreens -- their pointy tips sway with wind gusts, and the swishy sound sooths my drifting mind
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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
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Life Amid a Winter Scene [Haibun]
The forest is silent, and winter has painted the woods in earthen hues. Bare black loam is spottily strewn with beige to brown leaves -- dried to a curl and crunch that's almost crumbling. If any animals are moving, it's only at the eyes. There're no skittering feet, no frantic digging, no chirped warnings, and no explosive attempts to flee. Then, at the base of a downed log, there's a lively scene of vibrant green moss and tender, burnished-orange fungi caps. winter forest -- all seems dead or dormant, but one tender scene
