catching the scent of deer, their presence feels so near the trail we’re walking, from glen to hill to snow-filled pass our eyes rest on the eyrie, where eagles rise and soar
another sailor drops his anchor in the sheltered bay mountains link around his sanctuary with calm he only feels the wind blowing through his soul, the waves rolling through his heart
A newer version of this poem features in Between Heather and Grass under the title Plockton Bay. If you haven’t read the book yet, feel free to take a peek inside:
sea air and silt stir the surge to lurch into the speed of bliss
your feet kiss the sand in circles where each grain tells a story –
all I can hear is the song in your eyes, the spark in your smile
the tide sweeps out once more, leaves seaweeds resting in airs of Spring among the joys of shell and stones, playful dogs and soaring gulls it takes a while before the poem plucks me from the mountains
Happy Monday and much love to you all, from Eivor, Pearl and Xenia xxx
Photographs by Xenia Tran, edited in lr.
Camera: Panasonic Lumix FZ200, setting: iA.
Kristjaan at Carpe Diem invites us to write a Sijo:
More ancient than haiku, the Korean Sijo shares a common ancestry with haiku, tanka and similar Japanese genres. All evolved from more ancient Chinese patterns. Sijo is traditionally composed in three lines of 14-16 syllables each, totalling between 44-46 syllables. A pause breaks each line approximately in the middle. The sijo may be narrative or thematic, introducing a situation or problem in line 1, development or “turn” in line 2, and resolution in line 3. The first half of the final line employs a “twist”: a surprise of meaning, sound, tone or other device. The sijo is often more lyrical, subjective and personal than haiku, and the final line can take a profound, witty, humorous or proverbial turn. Like haiku, sijo has a strong basis in nature.
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