Winter Prowls: a #haiku

The leaves are changing, indeed beginning to fall, already. Nights are becoming more pleasant, cool and slightly crisp. Days, well, they are still fickle, ranging widely from summer-like to autumn-ish. But the winds that bring the rains this time of year, they are who betrays the trickery of the days, showing what lurks and will too soon be upon us. 

between gusts of wind
a bitter chill touches
winter prowls about

Inspired by Haiku Horizons weekly prompt.  

Starting the Day: a #haiku #haibun

Summertime is almost always a very busy season for me but this year is an exception: It’s been even more busy than normal! I’m longing for the end of this busy time so I can settle back into my normal (dull?) routine to be very honest!

This week when I read the prompt words from Ronovan’s weekly challenge I immediately thought I would be writing a spiritual piece; with the words rise and save I seemed to have the perfect opportunity to do so, at least that’s what I though. But as I tried to piece together a haiku that “worked” and that I was pleased with I ended up writing a more mundane account of how today (and most days) are kicked off. 

rising each morning
groggily starting the day-
saved by my coffee

Lead: a #haiku/haibun

Ah, election year is upon us. No, wait; it’s over a year until the election still. But for months we will get the pleasure of hearing how much better our lives are going to be if only we will support ____ (fill-in-the-blank)! Don’t get me wrong: I love living in the USA and having the freedom to cast my vote for who I believe will best lead our country. But I loathe the myriad of low-blow, nasty, and (boarding, at least, upon) corrupt commercials we have to endure before the votes are cast. 

looking ahead we
search for someone who can lead
us to better days

Really, how much better will our lives be just because of a handful of political offices change occupants? And if they have used the kind of ads I mentioned above – now think about this – are they really worthy of our vote in the first place? I think not.  

(Inspired by this week’s prompt from Haiku Horizons)

A Change of Luck: a #haiku/#haibun

Sometimes I feel stuck in a rut, like things are just out of sorts for me. I know that eventually things will change though, they have to: tides shift, seasons change, and so do our situations. I feel like I’m on the verge of one of those changes now, too. 

I can’t help but hope

My luck will change very soon-

Go from bad to worse!

Inspired by Ronovan Writes weekly challenge. 

Reminiscing: a tanka/haibun

As I was going through my emails this morning I saw one from The Daily Post that caught my attention; I admit I often am not particularly inspired to write from their prompts but do get other ideas. This prompt asked about a song that triggers memories of people, places, things, etcetera. Immediately I began down “memory lane” – gee, that could be a whole new category, but I digress – and so I thought I’d share that with you today. 

As I may have mentioned, my father died when I was nine years old – he was 29 – of a rare form of stomach cancer. My maternal grandfather, Papaw, who I’ve mentioned before I’m sure, became my father-figure; really, he probably already was since Dad worked a lot and wasn’t around much. Papaw was a man among men; folks he knew and worked with 40 years ago still tell me stories of his great physical strength, his fortitude, his sense of humor, and his faith. I could write many stories about him – and may in the future, who knows? But right now I want to share the memory that came rushing back today when I read the post idea. 

My Papaw was a faithful Christian who held many offices in the church over the years. Now, I should say he wasn’t perfect and wasn’t always the kind, tender-hearted man he became after he was saved; he, in his younger years, drank and fought (loved to fight I think LOL) but was always a good father, husband and provider. Even after he came to know Christ I’m sure he made errors; we all do, I can attest to that personally. One thing Papaw didn’t do or participate in much was sing or be in the choir. Looking back I don’t know why; he could more than carry a tune so I reckon he felt it just wasn’t his calling to be a part of that ministry. But every time one particular song was sung he sang out with all he had! That song, which is still a favorite of mine, too, probably for the memories I’m sharing, is “I’d Rather Be an Old-Time Christian”. What joy I could see in and hear from him as that song played. In fact, it was one of the songs sung at his funeral ; it broke me that day, bawling like a baby, the only not-so-good memory I relate to it. You can hear a version of the song HERE if the video below doesn’t work for you.

William “Bill” Plybon, my grandfather: something I say with pride. I have always said if I could be half the man he was I’d be happy, and I still feel that way. I’ve added another goal to that as I’ve gotten older now: I want to be the father to my kids he was to his and the grandfather to my grandchild (or grandchildren if more come) that he was to me. With the Lord’s help, I believe I can attain those things. 

fathers and sons have
a bond indescribable
with Papaw and me
it is so much more than that –
hero, mentor, role model
© Greg Wolford 2015

Summer Morning: a haiku/haibun

I start out everyday with a routine, a rather boring one: take medicine, brew coffee, let the dogs out. Opening the door to let the “fur kids” into the fenced yard is the only variable, really, of the morning; I never know what the air outside is going to fee like, though I often have an idea. 

open door to find
typical summer morning
hazy hot humid

Linked to CDHK prompt “summer morning”.

Little Sponges: haiku/haibun

Kids; they constantly surprise me. Our grandson, for example, will be seemingly off in another world doing “whatever” it is he’s doing while my wife and I chat as we are driving. Out of nowhere his little voice comes from the backseat asking a question about the topic of our conversation; and it seemed as if he were paying absolutely no attention to what was going on with us when in reality he was, like a little sponge, soaking up every word spoken!

children young and old
learn much more than you suspect
nothing slips past them

This haiku/haibun was inspired by A Prompt Each Day

Give Up: a haiku/haibun

Today I sold my “butt rug”, a sheepskin seat cover I used on my motorcycle seat that provided cool air in the heat and warm insulation in the cold. I had no use for it anymore: we sold the bikes three years ago now I reckon – my how time flies.

If you’d have asked me, oh, six years ago if we’d ever be off the bikes I’d have said no, Lord willing, barring an injury or some thing like that. It never entered my mind that very soon our lives would change so dramatically – and so quickly. There’s not a lot of time for riding when you are tending to a child, now 6-years old but merely a toddler then. Who knew that becoming grandparents would be such a life altering event. So, the bikes had to go. I think we made a mighty fine trade.  

 Sheepskin seat cover or

Sheepskin seat cover or “butt rug”

looking forward we
can’t see what the future holds
or what we’ll give up

Linked to Ronovan Writes weekly haiku prompt. 

Paper Bark: a haiku/haibun

I remember walking through the woods with my Papaw on the first day of squirrel season, I was probably 10 or 11 years old, enjoying both the beautiful forest we were in as well as just being with my grandfather. As we went along, Papaw pointed out many different things to me, teaching me only a fraction of what this seasoned outdoorsman knew. At some point he pointed out this rather interesting tree with white bark that was peeling away in a hodgepodge manner. 

We walked over to the tree and easily pulled a piece of the bark off and handed it to me. “You what kind of tree this is?”, he asked me. “No, Papaw, I’ve never seen one before”, I answered. “That’s a paper-bark.”, he began to explain. “They call them that because their outer bark is white, thin, and peels right off, like paper …”, I’m sure there was more but that’s the part that stuck, sticks, with me. I later found out there are birch trees and they are, indeed, known as paper-barks. 

birch trees paper bark
soft white armor so fragile
no protection here

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for today’s writing prompt for stirring this sweet memory up in my foggy old mind.