Today two holidays are mentioned: International Harry Potter Day and National Brothers and Sisters Day. What do these holidays mean to you? Are they bittersweet? Perhaps the poems below will provide some inspiration.
Twenty-Four Years Ago
Battle of Hogwarts
Voldemort was defeated
Can love grow through loss?
Keep the Love Alive
Losing siblings hurts
Relive precious memories
Our bonds continue
PLEASE NOTE: Tomorrow, May 3rd, offers three holidays for consideration. They are National Teacher Day, Paranormal Day and/or Eid al-Fitr.
May 1st includes these three holidays: May Day, National Lemonade Day and Mother Goose Day. Below are haiku poems for each. Please let me know what you think.
My Favorite May Day
Celtic Quarter Day
Fertility is sky high
We hunger for life
When Life Gives You Lemons
Can’t get what you want?
No worries, no need to fret,
time for lemonade.
Who’s Your Mother?
May is Mother’s month:
Earth, Nature, of Invention
and dear Mother Goose.
NOTE: Tomorrow, May 2nd, is International Harry Potter Day and National Brothers and Sisters Day. What haiku poem comes to mind for you?
“With Ch’an, I better understand myself, my mission in time and space. No drama and dharma are what I seek; decent and solid is my true face.
When change is where we live, from dyana to zazen I count, at least to five; breath to body to kindness, twelve links and paramount.
The flower tells me no fixed formula to finding a peaceful moon. Observer and observed, no mind; full, half, Burmese, or kneeling rune.
Lying down or walking; all are healing. Breathing from belly my half-smile arises. I hear One Love in every sone. Zazen, kinhin, and chanting surprises:
plan, do, check, act through all my days, kaizen by point or by the whole. I ask why at least five times to comfort any painful earhole.
To love thee with smiles and tears and breath, I fondly count till my counting ends and love Thee better through birth and death.”
*With a nod to Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s “Sonnet 43“
“Yesterday was the anniversary of my father’s death; he died thirteen years ago. I’ve thought of him often this month but not yesterday. What about yesterday don’t I know?
My father was the last of eleven children; called Jack though his name was John. My father claimed he had a chip on his shoulder; seemed proud that he kept it on.
A boxer, a carpenter, a joker to the end; always with a twinkle in his eye. Absent from my life most of my life but at least we said goodbye … at least we said goodbye.”