Falling off

a goodbye would be when I fall off the sky,

into the arms of genteel earth, to embrace

the two tomorrows, of existing no more,

putrefy my furtive flesh, black bones into

the granular sand, returning to the birth,

that watered the roots of the world tree,

of which I came out to be a red raw fruit,

sheathed by the leaves, that shielded it

from sly storms, but every cold seeps in,

to their unaware natures, applying layers

of first frost, ingraining icicles within, and

as this youngling falls off before maturation,

the seeds do not burst, when it splits open

into a chamber of plain platitude of emptiness

.

Image source

For dVerse Poetics, where the prompt is to write about trees.

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Longing for Monsoon

The earth parched thirsty, desert sand blazing hot, waiting for those first clouds to make an appearance and pour down the nectar of life; every worm, every insect, animal, bird, aching for those drops to wash their body off, taking away the layers of mud and grime, they have coated themselves in, hiding away from the ball of fire, resting up above amid the blue expanse, still devoid of the white and grey monsoon shades, they long for. 

earth’s mouth open up

waiting long for single drop

gazing up above

*The haibun is written in response of Ligo Haibun Challenge.

Taue (Rice Planting) Haiku

reflecting shadows

puddles of water on fields

workers in sedge hats

~

fields filled with water

men descends to place seedlings

gilded performers

~

women in kasa

traditional performance

the paddies planted

~

bow down in prayer

planting the mother earth’s womb

promising fine crops

~

young girls singing songs

hoping for a good harvest

time for festival

~

aura of dances

enhanced crop’s vitality

melodies in air

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 220