Winter-White Haiku

Winter in Rockford, MI. By Chris Galford.

Cold…so cold. High of 14 today. Inside writing, doing my best to hide from the chill. Not as much snow as in the photo – the picture’s from back in 2009 – but the wind and the ice don’t make things any better. On the bright side, a little cocoa and some tiny marshmallows do lead to the occasional Winter-ku…

White sea enfold me

All is silence in the rough

Hands ache summer’s cry.

Elysium

By and Copyright: Trent Chau

Desolate banks

into the dawn enfold, the secret:

life runs through it

in the silence and the rush,

burrowing deep, Elysian bedrock—

there is never nothing in Wonderland.

*For One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry–the prompt today is a picture by the talented Trent Chau, a Georgia-based photographer. Beautiful shot – I found the words came rushing right out of it. Check out my interview with him when you get a chance – very insightful guy!

I Still Have a Voice

Just because I cannot hear

Does not mean I have no voice.

My hands are my words

Flowing out like rivers

And these eyes,

They see

Though you look at me as a man blind—

Blind enough to see

Your hands in motion

Signing off my rights

Signing off the hope

That brought me here today.

I am not silent

But you silence me

Bury me in paperwork

Another numerical nonentity

Less a face than a dollar sign—

Black ink rain down

And you break my world

With a pen for a sword—

How can you look at us this way

Hear our pleas, hear our cries

And still sit, as statues

Unmoved, unbroken

Drowning us

With care.

This Wednesday’s post has several dedications. It is first and foremost dedicated to the Deaf Education and American Sign Language students at MSU, who this year, as part of budget cuts, had their programs completely cut from the academia here. I also dedicate this to the deaf community at large, who all have felt the pain of this loss. Eastern Michigan University is the only other University in Michigan to offer such programs to the community.

As usual, it is also for the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays–once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well– they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!

Photos by myself, Chris Galford, from the final MSU Board of Trustees meeting last school year. The alphabet presented below is the alphabet of American Sign Language–a language certain board members previously claimed was “not a real language.”

Sweet Escape

Sweet escape

The mind’s surrender

Serenade of oblivion—

I close my eyes

And it goes, goes

The world

Absence of thought

In the darkness of being

Silence

All reconsiderations

This mind is empty now—

And the stars may shine beyond

But this twisted moon is in eclipse

And I am sinking

Down into the blackest hole

Of existence—

You see me, but I

No I do not see you,

I think no more

Therefore

I am

Not.

The Moment

FIFA eat your heart out:

Such fury in a moment!

There is a hush before the roar,

silent intakes, glowing hot

the eyes alight to see

the rush of bodies.

Tumultuous crash,

explodes in multitude of howls

as bones and blood are rent–

on, on, into the breach

spilling over fields of blood.

Dig in, draw back

the swing is in the air–

the crowd is nothing less than chaos,

buffeting the air

as hope and skill pours on into the mass

and presses to the

Goal!

There is no rage so great

as this running of the bulls.

Nothing ends in Nothing

I thought I saw the street

But the signs were bare,

No cars or coaches anywhere.

Cracked cobbles

Ran the road—

Broken bricks

Snapped beneath the silence.

Such oppression—

The strongest path

Would fade.

Round and round

The wheels spin—

But in the silence,

All is still.

The world dies

Without the motion–

Unused.

All I taste is Salt

I twist

Like paper on the wind;

The earth batters me

And I dip down, down

Into the crystal nothing—

No sky above,

No earth below—

Pressure building

Strangling the life

From hearth and home—

No warmth

Down below the waves,

My tumult silent

In the swallowing mass

That caresses all the hearing

From my mind.

All I taste

Is salt.