Today's poet

[Einar]

A haiku about a cathedral is, perhaps, a tenuous excuse for this next poem. I hope it doesn't offend anyone.


Said the Lord

And the Lord said:
I shall send my child to earth
to be a teacher and a comforter
and my child shall have wisdom
and shall love and nurture and save the children of men.
So shall it be, said the Lord.

And down came the Holy Spirit
and a virgin bore a daughter
who was the daughter of God.

A girl? people said.
Better luck next time.

And the child grew and ran about in Galilee
and told her cousins stories about God. For a while.

Bring in the goats!
Mix the porridge! Sew on that sandal strap!
What's the matter with you? people said.

And the day of her womanhood came upon her
and she rejoiced. Life ahead,
and her family rejoiced –
soon she'd be off their hands.

But I want to put people right about God, she said.
Nobody likes a lippy girl, they replied.

The spirit of the Lord is upon me, she said.

You're odd enough already, her family said,
don't you want a husband or what?
as they beat her
and married her off rather quickly
to a nice young fellow with his own flock of goats
so that was all right.

And she lay with her husband, of course.

And she bore him a son so everybody was pleased
and a daughter, well, can't be helped
and two more sons and another daughter,
and another son
(not counting those who died)
the spirit of the Lord on a back burner
for fifteen years and more.

Wouldn't have been without them. Heavens, no.

And when the children were grown
she said to her husband:
The spirit of the Lord is upon me.

Who's going to make my supper?
her husband enquired.

He didn't beat her. Didn't need to
begot another son instead, who died.

So she went to milk the goats
and make the porridge
and the Lord came to her in the tent.

Why don't you begin your mission, my daughter,
said the Lord, rise and go about Galilee
with twelve disciples
as my spirit may command?

I have tried, you know,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord looked at her, at her stretch-marks,
her dishpan hands, the snaggly teeth
the place where the goat bit her
and he knew that it was so.

They are a stiff-necked people,
the children of men, said the Lord.

That's one way of putting it,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord sighed.

You are an idea, my daughter, said the Lord,
whose time has not yet come.
A thousand years from now
still no chance.
Two thousand years? Not really.
How are you on flower-arranging? said the Lord.

It's never been my forte,
said the daughter of God.

And being weary she closed her eyes
and was gathered to Abraham's bosom,
or Sarah's bosom, perhaps, let's hope,
a bit more empathy there.

I think I'll try again next year,
said the Lord,
but this time I'll make it a boy.

And it was even so.

Moira Burgess

[Hes]

This is really brilliant, thanks Einar. Poignant on many levels. I've just helped two other non-believers to decorate our church porch with harvest produce from our allotments in time for sheep fair(!)...we saw a certain irony in the situation but resisted slipping in some dodgy shaped carrots/turnips.

A haiku about a cathedral is, perhaps, a tenuous excuse for this next poem. I hope it doesn't offend anyone.


Said the Lord

And the Lord said:
I shall send my child to earth
to be a teacher and a comforter
and my child shall have wisdom
and shall love and nurture and save the children of men.
So shall it be, said the Lord.

And down came the Holy Spirit
and a virgin bore a daughter
who was the daughter of God.

A girl? people said.
Better luck next time.

And the child grew and ran about in Galilee
and told her cousins stories about God. For a while.

Bring in the goats!
Mix the porridge! Sew on that sandal strap!
What's the matter with you? people said.

And the day of her womanhood came upon her
and she rejoiced. Life ahead,
and her family rejoiced –
soon she'd be off their hands.

But I want to put people right about God, she said.
Nobody likes a lippy girl, they replied.

The spirit of the Lord is upon me, she said.

You're odd enough already, her family said,
don't you want a husband or what?
as they beat her
and married her off rather quickly
to a nice young fellow with his own flock of goats
so that was all right.

And she lay with her husband, of course.

And she bore him a son so everybody was pleased
and a daughter, well, can't be helped
and two more sons and another daughter,
and another son
(not counting those who died)
the spirit of the Lord on a back burner
for fifteen years and more.

Wouldn't have been without them. Heavens, no.

And when the children were grown
she said to her husband:
The spirit of the Lord is upon me.

Who's going to make my supper?
her husband enquired.

He didn't beat her. Didn't need to
begot another son instead, who died.

So she went to milk the goats
and make the porridge
and the Lord came to her in the tent.

Why don't you begin your mission, my daughter,
said the Lord, rise and go about Galilee
with twelve disciples
as my spirit may command?

I have tried, you know,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord looked at her, at her stretch-marks,
her dishpan hands, the snaggly teeth
the place where the goat bit her
and he knew that it was so.

They are a stiff-necked people,
the children of men, said the Lord.

That's one way of putting it,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord sighed.

You are an idea, my daughter, said the Lord,
whose time has not yet come.
A thousand years from now
still no chance.
Two thousand years? Not really.
How are you on flower-arranging? said the Lord.

It's never been my forte,
said the daughter of God.

And being weary she closed her eyes
and was gathered to Abraham's bosom,
or Sarah's bosom, perhaps, let's hope,
a bit more empathy there.

I think I'll try again next year,
said the Lord,
but this time I'll make it a boy.

And it was even so.

Moira Burgess

[Hes]

adaptation....so so important. If there is one thing I've learnt over my past 39 and 3/4 years is that the only constant is change and that to survive and be happy you need to be able to adapt. This is a little gem Freckle!

You went away
and i was numb
with the void
then I begun
new journeys
and the recollection
Life is after all
adaptation

x

[Hes]

Lots of great contributions and good to see some cracking haiku from DT and HHH. I'm in the process of getting a book together for my upcoming exhibition and the text will take the form of the haiku I've written throughout the year so here are a few that I don't think I've posted before (time to write some new ones):

weary ewes look up
as black tatters fill the sky
disturbed crows take flight

spied from the hill top
a pair of roe deer wander
among the bluebells

the skylark ascends
filling infinite blue with
the notes of summer

PS HHH, for me the 5,7,5 is a good framework to start with and I like having some rules but then I try and capture the essence of a Japanese haiku and use instinct to decide if its too wordy or not. Sometimes I find I am adding words for the sake of the format and for me, that goes against the spirit of haiku. I think that's how the poets in Wing Beats work too but its up to the individual I reckon.

[Einar]

Glad you liked it Hes. It's a poem that can make you think hard, but laugh too. You've posted some very fine stuff on here yourself.

[Harry H Howgill]

Lots of great contributions and good to see some cracking haiku from DT and HHH. I'm in the process of getting a book together for my upcoming exhibition and the text will take the form of the haiku I've written throughout the year so here are a few that I don't think I've posted before (time to write some new ones):

weary ewes look up
as black tatters fill the sky
disturbed crows take flight

spied from the hill top
a pair of roe deer wander
among the bluebells

the skylark ascends
filling infinite blue with
the notes of summer

PS HHH, for me the 5,7,5 is a good framework to start with and I like having some rules but then I try and capture the essence of a Japanese haiku and use instinct to decide if its too wordy or not. Sometimes I find I am adding words for the sake of the format and for me, that goes against the spirit of haiku. I think that's how the poets in Wing Beats work too but its up to the individual I reckon.

They're lovely Hes. "Black tatters" is an especially vivid image. I can't wait to see your compilation.

I must say I struggled with Wing Beats at first. I didn't really connect with them and I found it a bit odd that every single one contained the name of the bird even though I knew what it was already by the title. It just seemed such a waste of syllables. But I think the problem was I was trying to snatch two minutes here and there within a busy week to read them which just didn't work. I just wasn't in the right frame of mind, so I chilled out a bit last night and gave them another go and as I was in the mood they all seemed much better.

You are right about the 5,7,5 of course. I like it, but I do find myself compromising other aspects of a haiku for the sake of a syllable now and again.

[Harry H Howgill]

That's a lovely pick Einar. A great story. Just as good as some of those other tales from the Bronze Age.

A haiku about a cathedral is, perhaps, a tenuous excuse for this next poem. I hope it doesn't offend anyone.


Said the Lord

And the Lord said:
I shall send my child to earth
to be a teacher and a comforter
and my child shall have wisdom
and shall love and nurture and save the children of men.
So shall it be, said the Lord.

And down came the Holy Spirit
and a virgin bore a daughter
who was the daughter of God.

A girl? people said.
Better luck next time.

And the child grew and ran about in Galilee
and told her cousins stories about God. For a while.

Bring in the goats!
Mix the porridge! Sew on that sandal strap!
What's the matter with you? people said.

And the day of her womanhood came upon her
and she rejoiced. Life ahead,
and her family rejoiced –
soon she'd be off their hands.

But I want to put people right about God, she said.
Nobody likes a lippy girl, they replied.

The spirit of the Lord is upon me, she said.

You're odd enough already, her family said,
don't you want a husband or what?
as they beat her
and married her off rather quickly
to a nice young fellow with his own flock of goats
so that was all right.

And she lay with her husband, of course.

And she bore him a son so everybody was pleased
and a daughter, well, can't be helped
and two more sons and another daughter,
and another son
(not counting those who died)
the spirit of the Lord on a back burner
for fifteen years and more.

Wouldn't have been without them. Heavens, no.

And when the children were grown
she said to her husband:
The spirit of the Lord is upon me.

Who's going to make my supper?
her husband enquired.

He didn't beat her. Didn't need to
begot another son instead, who died.

So she went to milk the goats
and make the porridge
and the Lord came to her in the tent.

Why don't you begin your mission, my daughter,
said the Lord, rise and go about Galilee
with twelve disciples
as my spirit may command?

I have tried, you know,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord looked at her, at her stretch-marks,
her dishpan hands, the snaggly teeth
the place where the goat bit her
and he knew that it was so.

They are a stiff-necked people,
the children of men, said the Lord.

That's one way of putting it,
said the daughter of God.

And the Lord sighed.

You are an idea, my daughter, said the Lord,
whose time has not yet come.
A thousand years from now
still no chance.
Two thousand years? Not really.
How are you on flower-arranging? said the Lord.

It's never been my forte,
said the daughter of God.

And being weary she closed her eyes
and was gathered to Abraham's bosom,
or Sarah's bosom, perhaps, let's hope,
a bit more empathy there.

I think I'll try again next year,
said the Lord,
but this time I'll make it a boy.

And it was even so.

Moira Burgess

[Mountain Goatess]

autumn brown leaves fall
winter draws on and vest
spring hopes and dreams dwell

[Sunbeam Alpine]

That's a great psalm , Einar - tho' can't find it anywhere in my Book of Psalms. Just the kind of thing to get pope Benny and his medievilists in a flap. Send in more !
I enjoy Ted Hughes - but he does not seem to feature much.

This is one I saw in Edinburgh - it's anon suspected Chinese (whatever that means ).

When ice on the pond is four feet
thick
And white snow stretches a
thousand miles
My heart will still be like the pine
and the cypress
But your heart, what will it be ?

[Hes]

I agree with you about Wing Beats HHH. I have been reading the notes at the back and there is quite a bit about using the birds' names as seasonal words (that haiku are supposed to contain). I disagreed with their list somewhat. They have curlew down as a winter word and, for me, its about summer but that's to do with where I live. It's a mine field methinks. I also think the haiku were written prior to the book idea coming into being so probably they existed on their own and needed the birds' names but it does come across as a bit clunky in the anthology at times.

Some of the haiku were quite mediocre, I thought, but then a few of them are wonderful, really evocative. It did make me think that you, Derby Tup, Stef, myself and many others have written equally good (if not better) birdy haiku at times. Anyway, I am feeling inspired by that fact.

They're lovely Hes. "Black tatters" is an especially vivid image. I can't wait to see your compilation.

I must say I struggled with Wing Beats at first. I didn't really connect with them and I found it a bit odd that every single one contained the name of the bird even though I knew what it was already by the title. It just seemed such a waste of syllables. But I think the problem was I was trying to snatch two minutes here and there within a busy week to read them which just didn't work. I just wasn't in the right frame of mind, so I chilled out a bit last night and gave them another go and as I was in the mood they all seemed much better.

You are right about the 5,7,5 of course. I like it, but I do find myself compromising other aspects of a haiku for the sake of a syllable now and again.