Poets Salon: Letting Go

POETS SALON

– 2/13/19

Hosted by Kathabela Wilson

The hailstone melted fast in my palm. I can still feel the cold sting. He had placed it in my hand as a gift. It was not so long after that he too disappeared…Then, from an intense coldness a new warmth arose, a double bloom, another spring, with deep roots near a waterfall.

picking white clover
he puts a diamond
in my hand

~ Kathabela

Ο Ο Ο

Haiga by Elizabeth Crocket

Elizabeth Crocket

The Release

As we hover over her, the air is as pure as morning snow. One by one, all the symptoms we had read about, begin to present themselves. My heart is picking up each beat that hers misses.            freezing drizzle          each limb          letting go

another clean drawer
she organizes
her death

Ο

setting sun
he drinks from a glass
that isn’t there

icy day
a frozen
perspective

Ο Ο Ο

Letting Go – Painting by Christina Martin

Christina Martin

Soft Air

Taking a breath before opening my eyes, I wonder what colour this day will be. The night had a starless quality of dense lead and my heartbeat couldn’t seem to break through it.

No looking back. There is still time.

buds on the edge of seasons part soft air

At the window I wrap my arms around myself and focus on the patient garden.
My coffee cup is the one with the pink roses on it, and is perfect. My coffee is perfect.

edge of winter–
at the end of the garden
a slow green

Ο

no more sighs –
a clear morning washes away
the darkness

Ο

pale rose
for now open skies –
my hands unclench

Ο

my heartbeat
in the fluttering
of plum blossoms

Ο Ο Ο

Haiga by Olivier Schopfer

Olivier Schopfer

Melting shows us the transcience of life. Snow finally disappears, icicles finally thaw and drip, and in summer I have to enjoy my ice-cream before it begins to melt. More tragically, the retreat of glaciers reminds us that climate change is altering the face of the planet.

all day sun
the remains
of the snowman

argument over
the sound of icicles
breaking

a pause
in our conversation
ice cubes dissolving

snowmelt
you say you want
to be free again

Ο Ο Ο

Haiga by Ray Caligiuri

Ray Caligiuri

dawn alarm
the hungry ghost
awakens me

midday need
just a ghost
of myself

dusk depression
the clinging ghost and I
weep

today
just a ghost
of myself

scaled back I miss the fleeing heart

Letting Go: Quotes and Credits

Elizabeth Crocket lives in Ontario, Canada, where she writes haiku, haibun, tanka, senryu, and photo-haiga. Her chapbook “Not Like Fred and Ginger” was shortlisted for the Touchstone Distinguished Book Award. You can see samples of her work at Elizabethcrocket.com

Christina Martin lives in West Wales in the UK with her husband Denis, by the sea and its ever-changing moods. Her interest in writing began at an early age. Plant-life and birds are two of her great loves.

Olivier Schopfer lives in Geneva, Switzerland. He likes to capture the moment in haiku and photography. His work has appeared in anthologies, and numerous online and print journals. In 2018, Scars Publications released his first poetry chapbook, “In the Mirror: Concrete Haiku”. The haiku “snowmelt” was previously published in Frogpond 39:1, Winter 2016, and in Charlotte Digregorio’s Daily Haiku in September 2017, but the haiga is new.

Ray Caligiuri lives with his wife of 50 years in Beaverton, OR. After retiring from the high tech industry, he’s been practicing the haiku forms. He says “The “hungry ghost” inspired my haiku set. When human beings can’t “let go”, they suffer and drift through their days searching for the next fix, ignoring the reality that surrounds them.

Ο

♣ We welcome and encourage your response, especially in the form of a short poem, by leaving a comment below.