Aki Chikashi (Autumn Near) Haiku

silent noise around

a lonely stroll down the street

finding my way back

~

looking at the sky

warm sun caressing the cheeks

lips begin to hum

* Written in response of Carpe Diem # 234. I know these haiku do not particularly match today’s theme. But it resonates with what nearing autumn means to me. The end of summer for me is the time when I can go for a stroll around in the city; being solitary even when I am am surrounded by a crowd. Autumn here is quite different; the trees do not shed leaves this time of the year. It is not so beautiful but it is beautiful, for it also marks the arrival of the major festivities. I now remember the autumn of the last year- it was peaceful, and it was a respite from the difficult time. I smiled, I talked to people- there was an unflinching voice within me reminding me of what I have been through and cautioning of what would happen in the future, but still I found some really good moments. Today at this stage I long for them, like when I was at that stage, I longed for a further gone away past. I have never been able to understand my longings for something which has gone or for something which resides in my fantasies. But it is so and I live with it everyday.

Advertisements

Cicadas Haiku

with prominent eyes

cicada hums a love song

debut performance

~

wears a bow of love

aiming for suitable mate

drums beat in stomach

~

a resurrection

its time to born once again

mother earth tears up

~

limbs sweat profusely

heat seeps into the body

hear cicadas’ sing

* The third haiku is based on the fact that some cicadas can lay dormant for as long as 17 years in the womb of the mother earth and one day comes when they come out again in their usual demeanor, which has become a symbol of resurrection.

* It was difficult for me to write haiku about an insect I haven’t got to see and listen to much. I have just faint memories of listening to the singing insects; so can’t be sure whether they were cicadas or not. ¬†Written in response of Carpe Diem # 232.