Tag Archives: Haiku

COVID-19 DIARY 05

April 7, 2020 Irihapeti 1 Comment

Day 13 of the Lockdown

Quiet Mount at Night

All Quiet

New Zealand’s total number of Covid-19 cases has now reached 1160, with 54 new cases in the past twenty-four hours. The nation is holding its breath to see if this is the beginning of a leveling-out. Each day we listen to the 1.00 pm update to hear the announcement of our new numbers. It’s a crisis for small businesses, and lonely for those of us parted from family and loved ones. We’re desperately hoping that it will all be worth it.

Having got that off my chest, life goes on as usual.

I’ve had a quiet day, feeling tired and disinterested in venturing out. It’s crazy with such beautiful, autumn weather and the beach so close, but sometimes it’s just too much effort.

Moon over Bay of Plenty

The barometer is dropping with rain promised for tomorrow afternoon. With this in mind, I forced myself out for a walk after tea. Now that daylight savings has reverted, it’s already dark by 7.00 pm and tonight I started by walking to the beach so that I could see my beautiful friend, おつきさま, otsukisama, shining across the Bay of Plenty. (That was me practicing my Japanese, by the way.)

dark night with palm

From the beach I walked north-west along Marine Parade until just parallel with Motuotau Island, then turned back into the town centre. It was calm and mild with a slight breeze. The main street was deserted, but extremely well-lit.

I listen to music when I walk, and this dispels the eeriness of the empty city. But the lights still shine – fluorescent, neon and LED, their sharp and often brilliant colours reflected in the polished shop windows and on the glossy leaves of the palms.

When I returned home, Dad was asleep on the sofa with the TV blaring. I eased the fridge door open and poured a glass of rosé. I’m sure that my alcohol consumption since being in lock down has counteracted any value gained by walking.

Today’s Haiku… written earlier today.

In a pool of sun
my father lies fast asleep
Walking in the past

Jane Percival (07/04/2020)

おつきさま – an honorific term for the moon

Writing

COVID-19 Diary 04

April 6, 2020 Irihapeti Leave a comment

Day 11 of the Lockdown

No Photos This Sunday

New Zealand’s total number of Covid-19 cases has now reached 1039.

It seems that my significant other and I have reversed roles – while he’s been creaming honey and steeping batches of kombucha, I’ve been press-ganged into the role of ‘Apprentice Home Handy Woman’.

As such, I’ve spent the past couple of days learning such new skills as belt-sanding, and countersinking (using a drill press). The saying “Don’t give up your day job”, definitely drifted in and out of my consciousness while I was using the belt sander. The wood we were working with was an ancient piece that Dad had found under the house. Being dry and very rough, it took quite a bit of effort for me to make an impression. My beveled edges were wonky and my sanded top, undulating. Not that it actually mattered as the piece was eventually disguised beneath white paint and sealer.

What we were actually trying to do, was to rebuild a shower box that had been cut apart when Mum became wheelchair-bound, more than seven years ago. With all the hardware stores closed to the likes of us mere DIYers, we were working with whatever bits and pieces of timber and aluminium, Dad could find in the garage. And, the end of a roll of duct tape. If only I’d taken some photos!

Anyone who has had the perseverance to read my very haphazard blog over the years, will know that I always include photos… but alas, not tonight. In fact, the reason I’ve been tardy with writing is because I haven’t had the time to take any. Perhaps I’ll make up for it tomorrow.

But if anyone is interested in how we’re coping with the lockdown, I’d say that here in Mount Maunganui, things are fine.

It’s quiet, and my life is very regulated – but then this was the case before our lives were restricted. Spending time here keeping my father company has a particular routine that I would not dare to change. I’m content to fit in with him, and I guess I mustn’t have high expectations (as far as excitement or variety is concerned) as I’m perfectly happy the way things are.

My sister in law is in Japan, also spending time with her elderly parents. We both decided to write a haiku, and here is mine…

Beyond my window
karoro fight over scraps.
Scavenger brigade.

Jane Percival, 05 April 2020

South Head, Writing

And the Heavens Opened

February 13, 2018 Irihapeti Leave a comment

Rain!

When I arose this morning, the rain that had been coming down steadily all night was like a bead curtain, each string of droplets falling vertically from the leaden grey sky.

Troubled Sleep

Last night had to have been the worst night I’ve experienced this summer, humidity-wise. As I lay on my bed, the covers pushed off onto the floor, I struggled to find a cool patch in the damp mugginess. My hair clung to my head and a patina of moisture coated every patch of exposed skin (in other words, my whole body was dripping). Around 3.30 am, a loud crash roused me from a weird dream about insects. I’d been half aware, earlier, of a few flashes of brightness through my tightly-closed eyelids as I’d tossed and turned, but I’d put that down to my Apple Watch’s display turning on when I moved my arm. For the next hour, an impressive thunder storm rattled the windows and cast brilliant white light into the room. At 4.15 am I detached myself from the damp bed to check the data on our newly-acquired weather station. The results were no surprise: Outside: 22.3 C / 100 % humidity; Inside: 27.6 C / 93% humidity.

I switched on RNZ’s All Night Programme, hungry for an update on how Tonga was faring under the onslaught of Cyclone Gita. The broadcast was broken by static and I imagined having to endure the rain without shelter. In the darkness of a stormy night. With young children or elderly parents. With ferocious winds and terrifying noises. How frightening that would be.

grass rain 02 — A lake of water on the grass

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!

When I looked out from the back porch and saw that glistening curtain of rain, I felt an overwhelming urge to shower outside. So I grabbed soap and shampoo and found a position behind the garage (very private there, especially on such a day) and washed and rinsed myself off out there with only the sparrows and one stray hen for company. A large gush of water was overflowing from the corner of the roof, the guttering unable to cope with the torrent, so I stood directly beneath it to rinse off my hair. It felt good to be out there in the wetness. The water was barely cooler than the air temperature.

Taking Stock

71 mm of rain has fallen in the last 24 hours, and of this, 22.5 mm fell in the hour I chose for my outdoor shower. Now it’s getting on for 8.00 pm and the rain has mostly stopped; water is sinking into the grass and draining away. Outside, the cicadas and crickets are once again making a racket. Let’s hope it’s sunny tomorrow.

letterboxes 02

Tan water flows by
bearing the earth in its grasp
Cows munch undisturbed

Jane Percival, February 2018

Writing

Flotsam and Jetsam

July 10, 2015 Irihapeti 2 Comments

Yasawa Haiku

shells_02 — Shells and coral, collected from the beach

I’ve spent the past week in the Yasawa Islands, Fiji, escaping from the wintry blast that has been afflicting South Head.

I’d originally planned to take my laptop and work on a couple of stories while we were away, but in the end, decided to leave work behind.

I was certain I’d write something while I was there, but I have to admit that I struggled for inspiration, only managing a handful of haiku.

Tiny hermit crab
scoots along glimmering sand.
It sees me and stops.

Iridescent waves
paint a clean line in the sand.
Caramel to cream.

I see the sun’s rays
push against the comb-like palms.
Grey stripes on the sand.

Writing

Poetry and Inspiration

May 14, 2015 Irihapeti 1 Comment

Reacquainting myself with an old friend

I was enjoying reading I. K. Paterson-Harkness’s recent blog on Haiku and thought I’d post something of my own. My interest in poetry and the actual writing of poetry has been rekindled lately, to the extent that I’ve purchased a couple of books to get me back in the mode (or is it in the mood?).

One was Six Centuries of English Poetry Tennyson to Chaucer: Typical Selections from the Great Poets, (1892) by James Baldwin, and the other, Above the River: The Complete Poems, by (author) Professor James Wright.

I chose the first book to reacquaint myself with some of the works and the styles of the classic poets, some of whom I read decades ago, and others of whom I’m sorely ignorant. And as is often the way for me, I heard one of James Wright’s poems being read last week on National Radio and liked it so much that it spurred me to purchase more of his work.

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in
Pine Island, Minnesota

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.

(James Wright)

Poetic Forms

Another book I’ve loved for years is Paul B. Janeczko’s, A Kick in the Head: An Everyday Guide to Poetic Forms (2005). This book lists 29 different poetic forms and provides examples for each. I’d recommend it if you are interested in the challenge of some of the more complex styles. The illustrations are neat, too.

Haiku from a Distant Summer

Here’s my Haiku offering… something I wrote way back in 1995 when I was living in St Leonards, Dunedin.

Dry parched hills
reflected
in the eyes of our cats
amber, gold and brown.

Cicadas
rapid fluting melody
I catch my breath
as they fly

Flax seeds
ripening broom pods
exploding
thistledown
caught on the breeze

Arid creek
quiet noise
sunlight dulled by
brackish pool
eucalyptus

Jane Percival
(March 1995)