Wordless Wednesday
…the sun descending and I, camera ready, braving the weather
…the sun descending and I, camera ready, braving the weather
And this Mama Bear will be retreating to her den shortly. I just couldn’t help myself about this prompt. Next thing I know, I’m creating a post on my phone. Hope you enjoy it. And—happy holidays.
You can no longer see it, but you can feel it-- the child within. I hope the feeling is of a good memory. Like Christmas perhaps? Please read these ha'sonnets, and perhaps write one too. For your inner child.
It's cold. I send you warm thoughts to ward off the cold snap of winter.
Grandma Ami, my paternal grandmother, would be today's protagonist of the tad-bit exaggerated creative non-fiction story/poem. My gramms had good 'reasons' for loving me like she did.
The Snow Bunting arrives in Hokkaido as a winter bird, and numbers vary considerably yearly. They're normally first seen around November and stay until about the end of March. They came to my window this morning ;)
From my side of the Pacific Ocean to you on the other side-- because you matter to me. Warmth in January to help ward off the winter blues.
Here's another new word typical of the winter season: Kotatsu. Presented to you in a #Gogyohka. Check out the photo that inspired this winter-warmth #poem for January.
It hasn’t snowed in my area this year yet. And so I dug into last year’s photos when we got our first icing of the year on the last day of Christmas, Epiphany. From the Three Kings, yup– all 6 centimeters in one evening! Please enjoy these poems nestled in my happy place.
I offer you an Abhanga: written in any number of 4-lined stanzas with 6-6-6-4 syllables each. Lines 2 and 3 rhyme resulting in a xAAx scheme. The poem needs a title.
A #tanka about conjuring a 'little spring' into your winter season by popping in one (or two) fruity candy drops in your mouth. I hope you felt something like a bit of spring, move inside your soul as you read.
Pouring a glass of water on New Year's Day reflects me a buoyant star, bouncing in the water in my glass, and I write a tanka poem.