Daily Haibun, June 30th – Happiness and Sunset

© RedCat

As I mentioned in my Wednesday Re-post I have have had two hours dance workshop tonight. On my way home I took a long walk through city. To stretch tiered muscles, feel the puls of the city (haven’t been much of that for what feels like ages) and enjoy the beautiful sunset.

Few things makes me as happy as dancing.

As sunset clouds glow
My mind fills with happy flow
Rehearsing dance show

© RedCat


© RedCat

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

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.

The Glob – Flash Fiction

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The day after the grand opening the international press coverage was damning.

“Welcome to football in the orange blob.” “Guns N’ Roses to play in an orange.”
“Stockholms new arena in a big gob.” “In Sweden the sun is dirty orange.”
“Swedes have no idea a word in one language may have a different meaning altogether in another.”
“Not one official working for Stockholm city speaks English at a preschool level.”

The city quickly changed the name to the Prince Bertil Arena, but the damage was done. For years to come, Stockholm was the laughing stock of the event industry.

© RedCat


Holger.Ellgaard, CC BY-SA 4, via Wikimedia Commons

Inspired by the Friday Fictioneer prompt picture and an article I read as the decision to rename the Globe Arena to Avicii Arena was announced. The architects of the largest hemispherical building on Earth suggested the name Prince Bertil Arena, but the city wanted something different so they held a contest. 4.756 entries came in, but none of them won. 

In the end the choice fell on a descriptive name. It was spherical, so why not name it Stockholm Glob Arena! Glob is swedish for Globe.
The name was registered and protected, before someone thankfully realized that glob would not be as internationally acceptable as first thought. And saved the city by adding an e to the name.

The reference to the Sun is because the building represents our star in the Sweden Solar System, the world’s largest permanent scale model of the Solar System.

Source on the near name debacle is from Dagens Nyheter, the article is in Swedish and behind their paywall. The Swedish Wikipedia article has more pictures, including of the construction.


Read other flash fiction by me here.

Click on the frog below to read more stories from Friday Fictioneers.



Holger.Ellgaard, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Sounds Of Spring

Evening sky over Stockholm
©RedCat

The sounds of spring
makes me dance and sing
such a lovely thing
the sweet song of spring

The air turns warm
after winter storms
you our love affirm
with your smile so warm

The fields are green
the bright flowers gleam
will you be my queen
in the summer green

Love fills my heart
as the swallows dart
as cold winds depart
Your love fills my heart

The moon shines bright
in the pale blue night
in your eyes so bright
let us kiss tonight

©RedCat

Written for Meet the bar waltzing at dVerse. Have been humming waltz rhythms since yesterday. This is written to be sung to the count of three even if the first lines in each stanza have 4 syllables and the rest 5 syllables. It’s all a matter of how a word is sung.


Whose soul do you capture (2020 Re-post)


Re-post comment:

Time to wander the archives. Tonight a poem about who or what really gets captured in a photograph.

Enjoy!



Whose soul do you capture
Hidden behind the smoke and mirrors
Of your camera lens

The soul of your subject
Should she be brave enough
To let her eyes speak truth

The soul of your fans
Mesmerized by your unique viewpoint on humanity

The soul of the artist
Shines through every composition
Every chosen shadow
Every directed focalpoint

The hidden shared collective soul of human suffering
Snapshot captured for eternity

© REDCAT

Inspired by the photo, a conversation this week about early reactions to photos and cameras, and feeling of strong kinship you can get from certain photographs.

Linked to Sunday Muse # 95 and Writers’ Pantry #7: Strolling through February Streets.

I also felt I had to include the picture from the pantry as it’s one from the beautiful Old Town here in Stockholm.
I love rambling walks trough it’s twisty streets and alleys.

Marten Bjork, Gamla Stan Stockholm, Unsplash

Blue Forest Of Remembrance – April Ekphrastic Challenge

Jane Cornwell

The blue forest of remembrance is full of quavering echoes
Whispering through the trees susurrations of memory
Wandering among the trees dreaming soul shadows
Most lost in pensive reverie
Reliving, rethinking, re-choosing life through hindsight’s windows
It’s all part of sleeping souls nightly recovery

Whispering through the trees a multitude of echoes
Joy and happiness, sorrow and pain
Most lost to the wind blown shadows
Others fall as antique white petals rain
All part of how memories lights the windows
How dreaming souls lead their wake selves to staying sane

Joy and happiness, sorrow and pain through the trees echoes
Some souls dream of floating in happiness rainbow bright
Others fall ensnared in clawing painful shadows
Losing another nights fight
How dreaming leads to the memory windows
How souls fare in the forest, changes every night

©RedCat

Stockholm
©RedCat

Inspired by the suggestive painting by Jane Cornwell and three words from the Skyloverwordlist; Quaver, Pensive and Antique White.

To see all art and read all poems for today go to The Wombwell Rainbow.

I especially liked Looking for Clues by Merril D Smith and the Villanelle Sylvia by Tim Fellows. 

Written in the same poetic form as Mind Finds Soul Fearlessly Shines. One of two invented by me. Because I realized a form used but once, might not be a form at all, so I had to see if I could use it again. I’m glad to say that it worked. 

I’m still unsure of how to denote it so that anyone but me could use it. How do you denote a line (2, 4, 6) that only partly repeats in the next stanza? Is it a refrain? Or that the last word in lines 1, 3, 5 repeat in every stanza?

Next I have to see if I can repeat the form used in Moonsea.


Photo by Evie S. on Unsplash
Jane Cornwell


likes drawing and painting children, animals, landscapes and food. She specialises in watercolour, mixed media, coloured pencil, lino cut and print, textile design. Jane can help you out with adobe indesign for your layout needs, photoshop and adobe illustrator. She graduated with a ba(hons) design from Glasgow School of art, age 20.

She has exhibited with the rsw at the national gallery of Scotland, SSA, Knock Castle Gallery, Glasgow Group, Paisley Art Institute, MacMillan Exhibition at Bonhams, Edinburgh, The House For An Art Lover, Pittenweem Arts Festival, Compass Gallery, The Revive Show, East Linton Art Exhibition and Strathkelvin Annual Art Exhibition.

Her website is: https://www.janecornwell.co.uk/

April Ekphrastic Challenge – GloPoWriMo 2021

Cherry Blossoms – A Haibun

Cherry Blossoms in Stockholm
©RedCat

The cherry trees are budding. Like the love in our hearts.
Soon it will fill the garden with clouds of blossoms.
That will rain upon us as we kiss beneath the bright spring moon.

Love’s first pale pink blush
Hides high summer’s hot passion
And fall’s thunderstorms

©RedCat


Written for tonight’s Haibun Monday (3-29-21): Cherry Blossoms at dVerse.
Decided to keep it as short and sweet as possible.


The photo’s are both taken late April in Stockholm previous years
.

Read other Haibun’s by me here.


Cherry Blossoms in Stockholm
©RedCat

Tomten Wonders – A Golden Shovel Poem Inspired by Viktor Rydberg, 10 December

©Jonas Norén

Holy Midwinter Night
Your long dark cold is hard
Lonely stars sparkle and shimmer
Dream dust glimmer on all sleeping
In house and barn, the dog in the lonely yard
Lending light to inky night, hours deep
Think toiling late into midnight hours

Vigil kept by the Moon
Bathed in her silver boon, as she wanders her silent whir
Midwinter night, when the snow glows white
painting on pine and fir
Inky shadows and bright light, as snow glows white
Shimmering stars on roof thatch
All dreaming, only Tomten keeps watch

In the snowy night all is silent
Gaia sleeping is
White blanket over wood and plain
Hiding all life
Snug in barrows, as out there
All is still, all is frozen

Slowly from afar only
The murmur of the waterfall
Dreamt as much as heard
Winters death as slow soughing

To thrumming of deep meaning Tomten listens,
half awake and half in a dream
Midwinter Night’s eternal seem
Giving visions to hear
The ebb and flow, life’s echo, of the eternal time stream

Tomten wonders,
from where life came and where it’s going
Tomten wonders,
if Gods or humans where the source
of where the world is is flowing

©RedCat


I had a different vision. But the influence of Tomten was undeniable. And I felt the kind, caring gaze of the farmwifes of my childhood. Living in just that type of isolated farm. Learning me old folktales mostly forgot.
They would have smiled at my folly. Hugged me. And told me, if I put myself in the attention of the unseen, I’d best be willing to pay my due.
So, I sent a message via my muse that all I wanted was to share the wonder of Midwinter, to give Tomten his chance to deep brooding and rest. Without all those Lutheran work ethic lessons.

The poem is a Golden Shovel. The last words of each line are, in order, words from a line or lines taken, another poem. For my piece I choose the first and the penultimate verse of Tomten by Viktor Rydberg. I started with translating them, since I found no translation I thought good enough. Below you’ll find those two verses.

Midwinternight’s cold is hard
Stars sparkle and shimmer
All sleeping in the lonely yard
Deep into midnight hours
The Moon wanders her silent whir
The snow glows white on pine and fir
Snow glows white on roof thatch
Only tomten keeps watch

Silent is wood and plain, all
life out there is frozen
From afar only the waterfall
Heard as slow soughing
Tomten listens, and half in a dream
seem to hear the eternal time stream
Wonders, where it’s going
Wonders, where the source is flowing

©Viktor Rydberg, first published in 1881. Translated by RedCat

Notes on the text

After untold hours reading I decided to keep the Swedish word Tomte. Even Astrid Lindgrens prose version from 1961 is titled “The Tomten”.
Simply because there is no equivalent in English. Tomten is neither gnome, goblin, elf or Robin Goodfellow as in this old translation. Tomten might be mischievous or outright revengeful if treated badly. But mostly he was seen as part of the place, a valued knowledgeable farmer, a paragon of Lutheran work ethics.

Today we see Tomten with a red cap, but Tomten of old was not so garishly dressed – then everyone would have seen him all the time.
The poems second verse start with – “Stands there so gray by the barn door, gray against the white drift”

There is also the word Nisse, which today is much conflated with Santa’s Elves.
Anyhow, a Nisse was so to speak, never the Tomte in charge on a farm, at least in Sweden.

Also linking to Open Link #280 – LIVE! at dVerse.

Searching For A Way – 8 December

Photo by Nikhlesh Tyagi from Pexels

Searching for a way
For the right words to say
I long for the dawn of a new day

Searching for a new life
Passionate, loving, without strife
Filled with strobing nightlife
Abundant wildlife

Searching for a new dream
Asking guidance of a moonbeam
For the path where creativity teem

©RedCat

Right now life feels small, cold and lonely for many, and for me. So I tried for some hope, light and life in today’s Advent Calendar poem.

The midwinter darkness has felt exte oppressive lately. The unseasonable warmth keeps the skies grey and foggy rather than the crisp, nipping, sunny air the season should have (unless there’s snowfall of course).
Today I read that the instruments in Stockholm and several other cities have measured ZERO sunhours in December.

So a warming climate makes the winter darkness more oppressive, by denying us the few hours of sunlight, robbing us off the white cover, starving us from reflected moonlight. A full moon can make a clear snowy December night brighter than an overcast December midday.

Some days I have hope for a new spring, perhaps next summer without a pandemic looming. A world coming together on the pandemic and the climate.
Other days, when the sun has not been seen for more than a week. I feel cold desolation, touch deprivation and failing hope. A world gone to smoking cinders, cascading ecological disaster, all ending in an egotistic whimper.

Not knowing to hope or despair, over the fact that the human race has its destiny in its own hands.



The road might be long and windy,
but with will and intention
we can make the journey the point,
not an unforeseeable future goal.
©RedCat

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