Daily Haibun, August 1st – The End of Summer

It isn’t really the end of summer yet. Some weeks with warmth and light remains. But my mind is already moving on. Thinking about the coming fall, it’s return to routines and it’s changes. Of harvest and reaping the rewards of work and toil.

The light will leak out of the sky and we’ll be plunged into darkness again. I’m cautiously optimistic about suffering less from my depression this winter. But time will tell.

As fields turn golden

Crickets through the evenings play

Thoughts turn to autumn

© RedCat

Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.

New Growth – After “Roots” by Frida Kahlo

“Roots” 1943 by Frida Kahlo

A glimmer of hope and faith
Let’s seeds of hope germinate
Growing tender shoots
Sending out questing roots
Searching for purchase in the arid plain
Watered by tears of grief and pain

Growing stronger each day
As the soul realizes she may
Free the muses to let creativity flow
Allow faith in budding ability to grow
Trust in the Goddess boon
Receive nourishment from sun and moon

Evolve according to the season
Follow the heart’s bright beacon
Until passion sings in the blood
Flowing freely, transforming the lifeless mud
Into rich and fertile earth
Where a scarred soul might find rebirth


Inspired by “Roots” by Frida Kahlo and written for this week’s Sunday Muse.

I’m so happy to get a chance to write to an artist whose artwork and life story has always inspired me greatly.

Also shared with the Writers’ Pantry at Poets and Storytellers United, and Promote Yourself Monday at Go Dog Go Café.

Photo credits in descending order

Photo by Russ Ward on Unsplash

Photo by Christian Joudrey on Unsplash

August Approaches – A Puente Poem

As August approaches,

in a golden sweltering haze

Impostor-syndrom encroaches,

trapping in this self-loathing maze

I’ve lived here for ages,

familiar with its confounding ways

Seen my dreams turn to ashes,

evaporate as hopelessness blaze

~ I’ve made new choices,

now can I the changes face ~

As August approaches,

in golden sweltering haze

Thoughts of breaking free encroaches,

I have to burn this thorny self-doubt gorse maze

Learn and evolve as I ages,

find new self-caring and nurturing ways

I will rise from the ashes,

remade by this creative blaze


Flowers Hermitage in Winter from Wikimedia Commons

I should be asleep, but can’t because all thoughts swirling. Realized after reading others poetry, that writing the turmoil out probably where a better way than watching tv.

So sat by candlelight, watching the moon and poured it on paper.

Written for First Line Friday over at Mindlovemisery Menagerie.

Stechginster Blaetter from Wikimedia Commons

As I Reap The Dreams That I Have Sown – A Harvest Song

There’s thunder in the sky,
the sickle flashes by.
As I hurry to cut down the corn.

I reap with a happy sigh,
as swift swallows fly.
The field must be done by Sunday morn.

I’ve struggled and hoped,
clinging to a frayed rope.
Until roots took hold, new futures were born.
Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

The harvest moon glow,
when I life changes sow.
As I sing beneath the sickle moon.

I’ll rise above my woes,
when the change of seasons blows.
As I dance scy-clad to her freeing tune.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

I’ve sown the seeds,
that my soul will free.
Time to harvest them just like the corn.

I’ve learnt to know my needs,
to my muses feed.
Now let creativity my life adorn.

I’ve struggled and hoped,
clinging to a frayed rope.
Until roots took hold, new futures were born.
Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

As I reap the dreams that I have sown.


Written for earthweal’s weekly challenge: LAMMAS. I was so inspired by the song in the prompt, a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop (video below), that I had to write one of my own.

Of sowing and reaping, growing and weeping, of dreams becoming reality.

Steve Winwood singing “John Barleycorn must die” – a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop

Photo credits:

Sickle moon – Photo by Mitchell Bowser on Unsplash

Corn Field – Photo by Nadine Redlich on Unsplash

Step Into The Unknown

Do you dare to step into the unknown
Are you willing to walk the path creativity has shown

Do you have the tenacity to rewrite your fate all alone
Can you keep faith in the passion burning in the marrow of your bones

Do you nourish the seeds so long ago sown
Can you care for the tender shoots out of the fertile psyche-loam grown


Photo by Ravi Roshan on Unsplash

This is my contribution for this week’s weekend writing prompt by Sammi Cox. It’s very similar to `When Opportunity Comes To Call` that I wrote about a week ago. Testament to what is currently whirling in my mind.

This weekend’s word is unknown and the word count is 65 words. The poem consists of three rhymed couplets.

Read other responses to Sammi’s prompt by me here.

Galaxy of unknown stars

Artist impression of a firestorm of star birth deep inside core of young, growing elliptical galaxy.
NASA, Z. Levay, G. Bacon (STScI), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Sailing towards a galaxy of unknown stars
Space full of still unexplored planets
Dreams of visiting unseen worlds
Fantasies of learning yet unheard words

Only the travellers self doubt exhilaration mars
Fears streaking by like comets
Old scars chafing like forming pearls
Nightmares circling like buzzards

Following the call of twin hear-soul lodestars
Drinking the mead of poets
Freed imagination new star sparks swirl
Awakened inspiration newfound stories herd

Sailing towards a galaxy of unknown stars
Newly discovered hopes skyrocket
Dreams of visiting unseen worlds
Fantasies grow wings and soar like spacebirds


Colossal hot cloud envelopes colliding galaxies
Smithsonian Institution from United States, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons

Written for this weekend’s writing prompt by Sammi Cox. The word is galaxy and the word-count is exactly 92 words. 

The rhyme scheme is ABCD. and the first A and C line repeat in the last stanza.

Read other weekend writing prompt poems by me here.

Souricette-du-13, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Malleable Strawmen of Gold

We’re all born malleable lumps of clay.
Full of hidden nuggets of unformed gold.
Strawmen built of experience strands of hay.

Able to ourselves shape, reshape and mold.
Rebuild from the ruins, rise from the ashes.
Take trauma and rare origami gems fold.

To withstand tormenting flashbacks flashes.
Find meaning when all seems utterly lost.
Capture fleeting hope that by us dashes.

Change orbit to no longer be star-crossed.
Listen to the voice in our hearts and soul.
Let passion heal, lift our spirits aloft.

Let hurt go, take charge, be in control.
Reassemble the pieces to a new whole.


Written for this week’s Sunday Muse.
Also shared with Writers’ Pantry #74: Words, words, glorious words.

Written in the Terza Rima pattern. Which I tried a few times before.
In Raven Dream Flight, Open, Accept, Surrender and In The Badger Sett.

Multicoloured Gem

Multicoloured many faceted gem
From which arcane teachings stem

Lens through which I learned to cross boundaries
To search deeper than the eye sees
Listen to how the heart breathes
Seek and look beyond approved windows
Search out that which sets the soul free

Shifting hypnotic kaleidoscope
The portal that leads to multicoloured hope
To words that helps me cope
Spelling the message that even for the queer there’s hope

Swirling mystic door
That illuminates the hidden inner core
Paints landscapes never seen before
Leads to uncharted shores
To soul realms yet unexplored

Glyph showing knowledge rest not only in the words that get heard
True wisdom is found in the silence spaces between words


Also shared to Open Link Night – How’s your remodeling going? at dVerse.

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