Unless stated otherwise, all poetry on Swimming in Lines of Haiku is Copyright Kirsten Cliff and may not be reprinted in any form without written permission from the author. kirsten(DOT)cliff(AT)gmail(DOT)com
Showing posts with label biopsy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label biopsy. Show all posts

Friday, September 13, 2013

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


Sunday, February 24, 2013

Biopsy


biopsy i am my heartbeat




This was my first appearance on Tinywords: haiku & other small poems. My thanks to the editors for choosing my work, and to all those who left comments at the site, or on my Facebook page, or through email, expressing their enjoyment of this poem. I'm inspired and humbled to know that readers were moved. 

This piece still hits me where it hurts, and will be part of my collection that explores my leukaemia journey. I haven't touched my manuscript for nearly two months, but it's calling my name, and the publishing of "biopsy" may be just the catalyst I need to get going again . . .