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The Daily Haibun Thread Vol. 1 2019

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  • The Daily Haibun Thread Vol. 1 2019

    This is a showcase for your best haibun. Both previously published and unpublished haibun and tanka prose are welcome, Keep commentary positive and let us know what poems you enjoy the most. Please acknowledge the provenance of previously published poems. Most of all, enjoy the fine writing!

    Please share one of your best recent haibun, any topic. One work per post per user per day. Admin will select our favorites from this thread throughout the year to include as part of an in-print members anthology. If you would like to opt out of this anthology publication and do not want us to have reprint rights, simply write "opt out" after your haiku. Notifications of selection will be before the release of the anthology and you may still decline your inclusion.
    ghost cave i brush aside the dharma of a lobster god

  • #2
    I'm not comfortable with the term "your best haibun" (or haiku or whatever). We change and our writing does too. My haibun vary acc. to mood, style, inner voice etc. But here is one I like from 2016 (Published in Narrow Road, I think)

    The old money

    had run out and the servants, the cook, the maids, the chauffeur and what have you had been sacked, eaten or pickled for later consumption. Except for the two dwarves that always were by her side, or her sides, Noola and Boola of unspecified origins, keeping up her humongous head and its much too large dough-like face that always seemed like it was melting with long sticks specially made for this purpose; a duty that now seemed the more important as she had to go out into the world to buy food for the very first time.

    ever slower pale November sun

    Leaving the enormous palace-like apartment was the first challenge. For her entire life her parents had shielded her from the world - or perhaps the opposite was more true and had kept her inside and only allowing a few people deemed strong enough to withstand the sight in; everything she ever needed was brought to her: suitors – of which there were very few due to the rumours (and they were true) of her gigantic head and unpleasant disposition, sea lions, opera singers (they'll do anything for money, those triflers), preachers with unhealthy dispositions to take care of her spiritual education and so on and so forth.

    those quick remarks to show you're cool crow

    But now the situation was dire: if she wanted to eat (and remember that the servant stock already was used up or not quite mature in their pickle jars) she had to frequent the local supermarket not knowing what a supermarket is or was or whatever and buy stuff to crunch, wash, peel,slice, carve and cook herself; things she likewise knew nothing about. But first things first, she thought - not having the faintest idea about what was to come second - and off she set towards the front door. Noola and Boola, tried their best to keep her head in place as she made her wobbly way through the corridors, music rooms, smoking rooms, dining rooms and rooms for human activities she didn't had words for till she reached the front door that was almost, just almost, wide enough for her head (remember: most animals from the zoo had come in through that door when she was taught about the animal kingdom). She had to squeeze against the sides of the doorway and lost one ear in doing so. Noola, the left side dwarf, quickly picked it up and ate it keeping the emerald earring for a later sale down the pawn shop. She herself didn't notice. She just pushed on in a haze of racing thoughts, dizzy and somewhat deliriously confused by doing what she was about to do (going out into the world, that is) for the first time. Boola saw what Noola did and quickly jumped up and cut off the other ear with the sharpened nail of his or her (you really couldn't say) little finger (of course he or she had two, but that's irrelevant in this context). Not saying a word they looked at each other in agreement and without further ado they now lead their soon to be former mistress into the abattoir that had witnessed the sad endings of the lives of servants and 'replaceables' in service of the formerly rich family now reduced to one person (I suppose you could still call her that) who nearly wasn't any longer and lo and behold the knifes were still sharp.

    breath clouds
    at least
    there's that




    • #3
      The Surge

      Seasoned of Sodom. Dry-brined and sunbaked, I harden. Cleaved to a foothold meant only to provide passage.

      Shunned by moonlight. My shadow shallow and obscure. Breathing stopped. Scentless. Not even carrion-eaters advance.

      Won’t pluck these hypertonic spheroids from their orbits or strum the desiccated sinew fixed to my splintered bones.

      The only movement is that which eschews my carcass—a warning more than a landmark.

      toeing the tide I dissolve the might-have-beens

      *Published in the most recent Sonic Boom