Hosts: Firdaus Parvez and Kala Ramesh
21st July 2022
This month we'll be showcasing haibun written by our four editors!
This week we have AKILA G., with us!
Genealogy
Every night the river rippling under the bridge pulls me along the bank where trees kiss their reflections. In the middle of this river, a barren branch dares to break this seamless flow of narcissism. The more I indulge, the deeper it pulls me within.
It is a recurring dream in which, I soak in the syllables and caricature it across the pages of my manuscript in a blue fountain ink. The pen moving in the same manner as my daughter’s hands with oil pastels, rotund and pointed like Mother’s fingers kneading dough.
But then no one talks poetry at home. They don’t have such dreams either.
moonbow ...
they say
I have your eyes
(Published in Red River Book of Haibun Vol.1 edited by Steve Hodge and Paresh Tiwari in 2019)
What is it about Akila's writing?
Every time I read her haibun or her haiku - I was struck by the honesty with which she portrays her characters. The perfect juxta between the prose and her haiku, each time.
Look at this haiku: moonbow ...
they say
I have your eyes
Minimalism at its best.
Give us a good haibun, thought-provoking, something that tugs y.our heartstrings.
And we’ll do our bit – publish it in haikuKATHA – Issue 10, for you!
PLEASE NOTE:
1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt. Only one haibun in 24 hours.
2. Share your best-polished pieces.
3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written. Let it simmer for a while.
4. When poets give suggestions and if you agree to them - post your final edited version on top of your original version.
5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in the haikuKATHA monthly journal.
*********** the final version **************
The Fence
Inside my head, a cloud's brewing for a thunderstorm. I continue my work as usual without letting others know. “Call her up. It’s already six,” my mother shouts. I am unable to think of anything else. “She will be home. Don’t worry.” Pretending all is well, I continue with my chores.
There is nothing I could do except wait. High school kids are not allowed to carry cell phones. A zillion questions within ready to explode.
The doorbell rings.
children eye
the hanging mangoes ...
an alert gardener
************Revision***************
The fence
Inside my head, a cloud brews for a thunderstorm. I continue my work as usual without letting others know.…
Lovely haibun, Akhila. You have strung very bead carefully. :)
Akhila your Haibun is beautiful. exquisite.
final edit thank you all for your comments and help.
Lament
I stand listening to the comforting slurp and swish of the incoming tide. There are a few low clouds, relinquishing the warmth of pink, they return to grey. A small flock of oyster catchers, flying against the wind, utter piercing cries. But I can’t take my eyes of the curlew, flying over the skin of the sea. Looking for remnants.
waves of grief…
a red candle where
his body lay
Lament
Down on the shore seaweeds rise and fall on the water. A lone heron, statue-still on his favourite black rock, waiting to kill. The clouds, yielding the wamth of pink, return to grey. A small flock…
Akila has such a lovely way with words; her word-pictures are mesmerising. The haiku links and shifts from the prose beautifully. Well done!