On April 12, 2018
Welcome back, everyone, for another day of poetry, poetry, poetry!
Today’s (optional) prompt picks up from our craft resource. We’ve challenged you to tackle the haibun in past years, but it’s such a fun one, we couldn’t resist again. Today, we’d like to challenge you specifically to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. It may be the high sierra, dusty plains, lush rainforest, or a suburbia of tiny, identical houses – but wherever you live, here’s your chance to bring it to life through the charming mix-and-match methodology of haibun.
Dams in the sky broke, floodgates flung open, deluge overwhelms the city.
It’s hurricane season, not a mere autumn rinse, cosmic sprinkler left on, forgotten. Rain pelts skyscrapers; lit-up glass-eyes, impact windows, blink through downpour. Water gushes through the streets; cars, limos plough, slush, slither.
At the five-star hotel, standing at the entrance, a wedding party found scant refuge. Water splashes, sprays wherever. Downpour is so dense, a single step from the car, and suit is soaked, dress drenched, silk clings to breasts, thighs, water drips from hairdo, floods shoes, unhinges stilettos. Tears mingle with raindrops, smudged eye-shadow.
Lilly petals swirl in the gutter. Upturned black umbrella sails away.
Cosmic juicer liquefies appointments, fear seeps into plans. City is one vast infinity pool over-flowing, its byzantine splendor, cutting-edge design, threatened by drowning.
Wind bends gumbo limbos, tears at palm fronds, whips straggly beards of Banyan trees.
Crowned night heron disappeared. Mocking bird fell silent. Little egret hid. Anhinga will wait long to dry its wings.
soaked little girl smiles
silver slipper boat rescues