Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

judie is a friend of mine. A colleague of ours met his death in a motorcycle crash tonight. He was a member of her kibbutz. I taught 2 of his kids. Here is her haiku


fatal futile
fucked forever
funeral sun





judie s
june 24 just after midnight

I'm sorry for the inspiration.

The alliteration here and the rhythm both seem to highlight the sun at the end of the piece. There seems to be a relatively driving trochaic beat and then it flips up with an iamb at the end. I don't know if it's an intentional "lifting up" of the sun--and whatever symbolism that might bring--but it caught my eye with a range of possibilities.


reposession
rest relieving
reticent light

we don't have an emoticon with tears.

I wish we did.

joel, what a cool observation.
thank you.

doreen - emoticon's aside
we share the moment

thanks

j

time heals
sorrow's song
beyond words

hugs help too
(glad you are there for her)

cousin madeliene
her beaux benoit
sweet swiss chalet

benoit's twin
and twin's wife
double suicide

mado and benoit
twin and wife's kids
deconstructed and reconstructed

five years passed
not a word
now cousin is back

metamorphosis
deconstruct and reconstruct
the power of now

Judih... sorry for the delay. I hope your friend is doing better. That was some kinda haiku! whew!

thanks all
beautiful response, deb
jim - this is a story and a half you've offered
cecil - haiku heals (to take a word from deb). judie is now fresh out of tears and back to her laughing self. (with the help of a lot of Led Zep and good friends)

we shall arise from the dead!

squeeze the last drops of life
drink before dying
pass on

Not haiku just yet, having seen birth (one) and of course the younguns, delightful, and have seen many impending deaths and several in persona, moments of death are, unfortunately, often not very celebratory. Hospice has gone a long ways in helping change that, and for sure I'd like a celebratory mood around my own demise, JA!, but it's all to often a gasping, or a suddern interruption, with mixed feelings, from relief to despair.

old man looks up and out
his family around him
he passes on

christmas eve
hue fron tree lights
glow into darkened room

old man takes his last sip of soup
"that's enough," he says
becoming radiant in the soft darkness

"I'll never have sex again," she said,
helped her into bed,
"I have a prolapsed uterus."

Doctor went in to see her
He told me to pull the plug
She died that night, HIV+ mother.

He lay there,
gasping.
Margie held him.

Margie did the same
I held her hand
she smiled at me.

motorcycle round the bend
hands salute the wind
black leather final gasp

community circle
telephone linked minds
strength shuddered gasps

sacred whale songs, midnight howls
beyond hours of hearing
Homo sapiens sapiens
wordless telephone mourning

beach echo
stillness mourns
grey dawn caress

flickering flames
candlelight meditations
murmuring mantras