Icing Laced on Trees - Haiku

Icing laced on trees

Daffodils covered with snow

Spring is hiding here

Precious Linda, c. 2013

I Saw a Blind Man Walking

I saw a blind man walking,

I know that he was blind,

He had a white stick, tapping.

Was he out of his mind?

At first, I wondered, maybe,

He really had some sight,

Because he stopped and turned his head,

Turning left, then right.

But then, he started tapping

And moving, stealthily away,

The ground, uneven beneath his feet,

And he began to stray.

I noticed, from within my car,

While waiting at the light,

He turned this way and that way

And my muscles became tight.

I watched him slowly maneuver through

An overgrown, abandoned street corner,

Bypassing a building and crumbling driveway,

Snow-covered clumps of grass, and more.

The poor fellow kept a-going,

I truly know not how,

He dodged trees and a signpost

With two, tall stakes in the ground. Wow!

My light turned green and I went on

And stopped at another red.

I truly hoped he’d make it  

To wherever his journey led.

I drove onto the highway,

As tears began to fill my eyes,

Remembering the man who could not see

With his very own, two eyes.

When times get tough and painful

And sorrows come my way,

I hope I’ll remember the courage

Of the blind man I saw today.

Precious Linda, c. 2013

Turtle, a Cinquain Poem

Turtle

Loves sunbathing

Moves laboriously

Always enjoys feeling at home

Nomad

Another cinquain - a poem with five lines with 2,4,6,8,2 syllables, and a few other requirements.

Precious Linda, c. 2013

My Occupation

I’ve been a homemaker,

a stay-at-home mom,

I’ve loved it and found it

fulfilling,

until

the kids

left

home

housework can be a drudge,

I’d rather make fudge and eat it,

but then, I’d have to buy

new clothes to fit in again

tax time has come,

my husband filled out the forms,

then he informed me

that he did something new

I wondered and asked him,

he said he filled out my occupation,

not the usual way, as homemaker,

but wrote, writer, instead

I asked why and told him,

I don’t make money that way,

his reply, it’s not about

how you make money,

you made no money

being a homemaker, either,

it’s about what occupies

your time and, therefore,

you

are

a

writer

Precious Linda, c. 2013

Floundering - A Poem from Words Unknown

Here from this valueless life I have fled

And now, I find myself lost

There are places to go and pad around

Scary places but there is no room

With only my hands and feet,

And all of myself, I go, blown by the wind

There are several paths and tunnels to take

But nothing makes sense to me

The god or God, where are you?

You are like a wind, I cannot see

My only choice is to lie down in the grass

Pleading for you to find me, this one time I ask.

Precious Linda, c. 2013

The poetry prompt for Day 16 of the National Poetry Writing Month was to take an international poem, in a language not known to me, and use the words and shapes of the words to write my own poem, without looking at the translation. The above is my attempt at doing so. I knew the original poem was entitled, “Escape,” and I wrote without reading the translation.

The original poem and the translation, provided with credits to the author and translator, are listed below:

ONTVLUGTING

Uit hierdie Valkenburg het ek ontvlug
en dink my nou in Gordonsbaai terug:

Ek speel met paddavisse in 'n stroom
en kerf swastikas in 'n rooikransboom

Ek is die hond wat op die strande draf
en dom-allenig teen die aandwind blaf

Ek is die seevoël wat verhongerd daal
en dooie nagte opdis as 'n maal

Die god wat jou geskep het uit die wind
sodat my smart in jou volmaaktheid vind:

My lyk lê uitgespoel in wier en gras
op al die plekke waar ons eenmaal was.

© 1956, Ingrid Jonker Trust
From: Ontvlugting
Publisher: Culemborg, Cape Town, 1956

ESCAPE

From this Valkenburg have I run away
and in my thoughts return to Gordon’s Bay:

I play with tadpoles swimming free
carve swastikas in a red-krantz tree

I am the dog that slinks from beach to beach
barks dumb-alone against the evening breeze

I am the gull that swoops in famished flights
to serve up meals of long-dead nights

The god who shaped you from the wind and dew
to find fulfilment of my pain in you:

Washed out my body lies in weed and grass
in all the places where we once did pass.

© Translation: 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink
From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007, 9780798148924

http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poem/item/11227

A Patch of Blue

A patch of blue caught my eye

from cloudy grays and whites

and darkened silhouettes of bark,

damp from the snow-filled nights.

The grays and whites unending,

until one day appeared,

a burst of color, a patch of blue,

in a black and white world.

The patch of blue was welcome,

to let me know the sun

was shining just a little bit

and springtime soon would come.

Precious Linda., c. 2013

The Synergy of US!

Synergy

between

two unique

beings,

hot-wired

together,

sparks fly

connections

adjust

juices flow

it comes alive

the creation

of us

US is born

Together,

we grow,

adjust some more,

become 

two-in-ONE

WE!!

Precious Linda, c. 2013