Tag Archives: haiku

The Daily Prompt is dead, long live…..

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The Daily Prompt is dead, long live…..

Suddenly at the end of May, the Daily Prompt disappeared from the blogosphere just when I was getting to know it. Frankly, I miss it. I didn’t respond on a daily basis but every now and then, a prompt would fire my imagination (I can’t get no..) and I would write a poem that I would never have written without that prompt. So here is a haiku to lament the passing of the Daily Prompt.

In Memoriam: the Daily Prompt

left bereft, promptless
stalled and stumped and paralysed
how can we go on?

But all is not lost, I have noticed a few bloggers out there are trying to fill the gap, and I would like to throw my hat into that ring. The difference is I will be offering prompts that are not actual words, but words that I have made up. Today’s word is “brattitude”. As in…..

“The dress has that swaggering catwalk brattitude we have come to expect from a Karl Aufderfelt design.”

Since I do not want to sully the memory of the Daily Prompt, I have struggled to come up with an alternative name. I thought maybe, the Daily Prod, but some of my friends in Belfast might mistake it for a sectarian bulletin. I toyed with the Daily Prick but abandoned it for obvious reasons. I finally settled on the Daily Jolt, like a shot of caffeine, a creative laxative. (This post is like a bowling ball that keeps veering towards the gutter.)
So give it a go, hit me with your best shot, post something inspired by the jolt word “brattitude”, link back to this blog and I will list a link to your post here. Or simply post a comment here.

By the way, it’s very unlikely that I will have the imagination or application to do this on a daily basis, so the Daily Jolt will probably be occasional.

 

 

The English Goalkeeper Reflects (2 World Cup haiku’s)

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(in the England-Tunisia World Cup game which England won 2-1, the Tunisians had one shot on the English goal, 4 attempts.)

The English Goal Keeper Reflects…..

It’s lonely back here
hoping nothing will happen
that fear when it does

(how does my hair look?
are these gloves too big?)

 

The Story So Far

Messi’s misery
the agony of Neymar
Christiano’s joy.

All Bubbles Burst ( 4 haiku)

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All Bubbles Burst

1
white Lexus on lease
new suit, shoes, two day stubble
bubble? what bubble?

2
cherry blossoms bloom
well-dressed ladies from Beijing
pose with hand on hip.

3
cherry blossoms bloom
the air is sticky with greed
houses, for sale, sold.

4
cherry blossoms bloom
the wrecking ball’s lazy swing
petals, debris, spring.

 

These haiku appeared at the height of the recent real estate boom in Vancouver; a boom that was driven by speculation, primarily by foreign buyers. Real estate became a commodity. Houses that had been around since the 1920’s were demolished and replaced by larger houses, some with an architectural style that had no context in the Pacific North West (white tiled French Colonial). Around where I live there was constant disruption: dump trucks, concrete trucks, agents knocking on my door, white Lexus’ (Lexi ?) driving up and down in front of the house every weekend, neighbours cashing in and leaving. Then like all bubbles, it burst or to be more exact, floated off to Toronto.

I have updated  the post for in

 

 

Provoke (Haiku for Donald/ Trumputin)

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via Daily Prompt: Provoke  

These poems were originally written as an attempt to provoke. That didn’t happen, and nothing changed as a result of writing them but at least I had some fun doing it. The second poem appeared in the magazine Anti_Heroin Chic 

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Haiku for Donald

petulant pillock

postcranial curmudgeon

bombastic buffoon.

 

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Trumputin (a romance)

Don loves Vlad
Vlad loves Don
Love as big as
A nuclear bomb.

Front door, back door,
Kremlin, tower
Nuclear love
Nuclear power.

 

Relocate (haiku)/U2’s New Album

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via Daily Prompt: Relocate

 

Relocate

that is what I did

or should I say: emigrate

same thing, in mom’s eyes.

 

This Daily Prompt thing is becoming addictive. What happened to that long post I was going to write about U2’s new album which I haven’t yet listened to: how http://www.allmusic.com gave it 2 1/2 stars out of 5; how Rolling Stone gave it 4 1/2 stars; how the Guardian gave it 2 stars and 4 stars (2 different reviews); how Variety called it their best album in years; how some people just don’t like Bono and decide what they are going to write before they listen to the album; how U2 have always been polarising; how I can’t listen to “The Unforgettable Fire”; how I don’t think Bono became a mature lyricist until “Achtung Baby”; how the last album “Songs of Innocence” has 7 tracks on it that are as good as anything U2 has ever done; how the Edge treats every note like it’s a precious object; how I am biased because ever since I relocated from Ireland to Canada, I have become far more patriotic than I ever was when I lived there.

 

Elements/ First Winter in the New Car (haiku plus a slimverse plus a bonus poem)

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Elements

 

 

 

First Winter in the New Car

wheel well icicles
rear screen wiper on thin ice
seat warmer up high

arse-scorching
high, so that
is what that
switch is for.

A haiku and a slimverse together for the first time – 29 syllable madness. A terrible beauty is born.

Now, a poem that died and came back to life.

Elliot

some said he got what he deserved
he was just another ocean liner
looking for an iceberg
but I had to observe, you know,
not all disasters
are waiting to happen.

 

2 Poems up at I Am Not A Silent Poet

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Reuben Wooley over at I Am Not A Silent Poet has posted 2 of my poems. The first poem I reblogged in the post previous to this one. It’s a haiku about Northern Ireland Politics, which is quite a large subject to squeeze into seventeen syllables, but I gave it a try. The second poem is looser, maybe too loose now that I read it again, but with topical poems there isn’t time to chip away at the poem.

Both poems appeared previously on this blog, but check them out and the rest of Reuben Wooley’s excellent magazine.

Northern Ireland – The Morning After Atavism by Jim Feeney

Text Messages from the Underworld by Jim Feeney