Moondrunk

Wow, a month since I've posted here. That's how exhausted, strained, stressed and busy I've been. But things are looking up. Decisions are being made. I'm writing again, and submitting again. Have just started a summer kasen with two other poets and am looking forward to working and playing my way through that process. Collaboration is good for my soul.

moondrunk

we speak of God
in whispers . . .
my ache for touch bathed
in the music of his eyes

Skylark 2:1 (Summer 2014)

 

My haiku journal, which I also used for recording all manner of creative thoughts and ideas, was thoroughly soaked when a big storm left my home open to the elements this Easter. Mid-week I went in search of a new journal, and after 5 shops I finally found the journal that spoke to me.

 

Having a beautiful journal is not necessary for writing, but lots of the nice things we have we don't need, but they inspire us. The smallest things can bring joy. I hope you find a haiku / writing / creative dreaming journal that speaks to you. Maybe it's one of the ones that I created to help bring a little joy into this world. View them here in my online shop, Haiku On: http://www.cafepress.com/haikuon/11141019

 

June - winter for New Zealand, and being mid-year, a good time to take stock of where one is at. Through Facebook I'm participating in a month of daily "Abundance is . . ." (fill in the blank) to shine light on things I'm grateful for and to notice the abundance all around me. A haiku and two tanka of mine came out in A Hundred Gourds this month. I'd completely forgotten about them with everything that's been going on, so it was a nice surprise to find my work amongst the pages. And of course, there's the calendar of haiku and photography that I did with my hubby this year, for friends and family. Below is the June  2014 page, by Cameron Elliot:

 

 

Haiku & Photo by Cameron Elliot



Hello

Here's a photo that shows the current state of our home: Me standing in my study saying hello to my husband who's standing in his study . . .

where does

the pain go

when I can't feel it —

a lilac sunset     soft

on the year's first day

 

Skylark 2:1 (Summer 2014)

 

I've been a bit overwhelmed by all the insurance claim stuff that needs doing: phone calls, decisions to make, information to send through, things to pick up or drop off. But everyone is being very kind and helpful. And I hear the roof is going on today, which is more than enough to be grateful for! :-)




Gutted

Things are coming together . . .

The house: the architect's plans for the new, reinforced roof of our home were sent through to me this week, and have been sent to council for the required building permit. Also, the house has been gutted - all the walls, ceiling, kitchen, carpets, etc., have been ripped out, and will eventually be replaced once the new roof is on and the building is watertight. It's so good to know that things are continuing on over there in Matamata while hubby and I make another day-to-day life for ourselves in Te Awamutu.

A photo I took from my study last August of the peacocks that roam our country property.

I have no need

of all these peacocks

to teach me how to cry

last night I felt you

in my arms at last

 

Skylark 2:1 (Summer 2014)

The manuscript: my haiku and tanka manuscript did not place in the Snapshot Press Book Awards, but I'm very excited to say that it is now being read by another publisher. Happy, happy, joy, joy! :-)

The store: my online shop Haiku On has taken a backseat for a while now, but today I released a new t.shirt design that I'm really excited about - "What's my sport? Haiku!" This is with thanks to friend and haiku poet Margaret Beverland, who told me about a conversation she had along these lines with fellow haiku poets, and her husband! The bestselling tee "Trust me, I'm a haiku poet" is still available, as well as some beautiful haiku journals, and much more. Come over and take a look at http://www.cafepress.com/haikuon

Brand new t.shirt design at Haiku On available now! http://www.cafepress.com/haikuon

Updates: Haiku, Tanka Prose, House . . .

The first of three of my haiku appears in Pulse: voices from the heart of medicine this week. You can check it out on the site here and take a look around the rest of the issue while you're there. Submission information can be found here (scroll to the bottom for haiku).

I'm currently racing to meet a May 1st deadline for a commentary I'm writing on my tanka prose, The Taste on My Tongue, first published in Skylark. I usually don't leave things until the last minute, but I had been busy for the past six weeks and knew I had time to do this in the last two weeks of April. Then the roof came off, and here I am. The piece is for Haibun Today and will hopefully include reactions re its meaning from those that have since read it. You can read the tanka prose in question here and send me your thoughts by email here. I can't guarantee that what you send me will end up in my article. But if you'd like to be part of it then please send it through by the end of Monday 28th. I'd love to read your response! :-)

Last but not least, an update on my home. Well, we made it to page 3 of the regional newspaper, Waikato Times, as well as our local Matamata Chronicle. Read the web version here, complete with pic. The insurance assessor has been through both our home and contents claims and we're waiting to hear back. Meanwhile hubby and I are still living at my parents, but hope to move into more long-term temporary accommodation next week. It could be months before we get home, and there ain't no poetry coming to me yet . . .

Skylark Gallery

I have a collaborative haiga in the winter online Skylark Gallery. The image was taken by me in Fiji last year, and the tanka is by Seánan Forbes. Just click here to see it (once there there is no need to click on the image, each one will roll over in a slide show for you). Enjoy! (Sneak peak below!)

The Edge of Hope: A tanka sequence with Seánan Forbes

The Edge of Hope

 

by Seánan Forbes, UK/USA

and Kirsten Cliff, New Zealand

 

moonstruck
in the fringes of my dreams
Mare Marginis
my evening meditations
on the edge of hope

falling again
down this hand-dug well
on the edge of hope
I recite lines of poetry
without moving my lips

circling your garden

I speak of love 

without moving my lips

I lift your name

to the gods

my fears

push against this ritual

to the gods

I pledge my truth

with the scent of myrrh

autumn leaf-song

we sketch memories

with the scent of myrrh

old dreams

become new vows 

Published in Skylark 1:2, Winter 2013

 

The Detour: A tanka sequence with Pamela A. Babusci

The Detour

A Tanka Sequence
by:  Kirsten Cliff, NZ
& Pamela A. Babusci, USA

a breakfast
of pills & cold toast
out the hospital window
this world i used to know
passing me by

who am i
trapped in this body
invaded with cancer?
looking at the infinity of stars
i touch the hand of grace

still unsure
of how long this ordeal

will last . . .
the stories i tell myself
between waves of nausea

losing all my hair

from chemo... 
gaining
more humility & compassion
on my life's journey
 
a new awareness
of my inner strength—
free in the wind
these Tibetan prayer flags
frayed, but full of colour


Kirsten Cliff is a Leukaemia cancer survivor   
& Pamela A. Babusci is an Ovarian cancer survivor

Published in Skylark 1:2, Winter 2013

You can now download a FREE copy of Skylark 1:1, Summer 2013 here. This tanka journal edited by Claire Everett is hands-down my favourite thing on the haikai scene. Have a read for yourself! :-)

Persistent Rain

bone marrow biopsy --
through my internal tears
a doctor talks
of the persistent rain
on his summer holiday

Kokako 19 (September 2013)

Thankfully all my treatments (and related procedures!) for leukaemia ended a year ago this month. Although I'm still considered high risk, a label that will stay with me for life, I have remained in remission for three years now, so all is looking good. I have also finally completed my collection of haiku and tanka that explore my journey through this experience. It is now with some very generous readers, and then I hope to enter it in the Snapshot Press Book Awards.

My work has just come out in Kokako, A Hundred Gourds and A Fine Line. I've recently had work accepted for Skylark, Presence and Contemporary Haibun Online. And have submitted work to The Heron's Nest, A Hundred Gourds, and the Australia-New Zealand Haiku Anthology. Now I'm getting my entry ready for the Kokako Haiku and Senryu Competition, as well as making haiku cards to take to the fair. Collaborations are still continuing, with Seanan Forbes writing haiku and tanka for some of my photos from Fiji. Never a dull moment!

Don't forget about the Svetlana Marisova Memorial Kukai 2013 (closing September 14th), which marks two years since Sveta's passing from cancer.

waking 
from a dream --
on my lips
I find the word
arohanui*

*Maori for with love/deep affection
RIP Svetlana Marisova

The Taste on My Tongue

I'd travelled by train to the well-known Harajuku purely for the piercing experience. Tongue piercing, that is. Or a nipple, if you were game and your tongue was already adorned. Sitting upstairs in the studio, I could hear the sounds rising from the busy streets below. Markets overflowed with people and wares. The city had a good vibe. It was a place for the young and trendy. And pierced.

doorstep slices

of white bread, with the Marmite

I brought from home—

morning sun strains

through curtains never opened

I was the next in line and watched with interest: a Japanese boy sitting in a raised chair, his tongue protruding with an X marking the spot. A large cork was positioned under his tongue and held firmly in place ready for the thick needle to puncture it. I held my breath as the piercing needle came down and the boy’s tongue curled around it, surprised at the assault. A blur of hands, then a shiny gold bar was poking out from the boy’s mouth as he paid and tried to say arigato.

stirring

my cappuccino

with a cinnamon stick—

imitation is something

they do well here

Five minutes later I was awkwardly announcing, “It didn’t hurt as much as having my nose done.” The friend I'd come with was lying on a high bed having Xs drawn on her left nipple. Her lengthy black hair looked scruffy against the white pillow. I seemed to be leaning over her in protection, and couldn’t help but watch as her areola changed from a smooth yielding circle into its tight brown peak. This was a welcome distraction from my own discomfort. That is, until I had to avert my eyes from the sharp needle penetrating it.

before work

a quick bite to eat

at the noodle bar—

from pictures, we both order

the same meal every time

My tongue didn’t hurt much, but it sure was a strange sensation. Imagine someone’s forearm stuffed in your mouth: the fist pushed hard against your palate and the elbow jutting down forcefully into the soft base of your mouth. Not much room left for your swollen tongue, so enlarged that your teeth have now firmly sunken into the sides. How was I going to eat?

first sip of grappa

sometimes love burns

last sip of grappa—

but he's still on my lips,

the Italian I met in Japan

Skylark: A Tanka Journal 1:1 summer 2013