brainstorms

Wednesday August 02, 2006

rootless

a rootless tree,
yellow leaves scattering
beyond the blue -
cloudless, stainless.

-- sozan-kyonin

[from the penguin book of zen poetry, edited and translated by lucien stryk and takashi ikemoto]

Tuesday March 28, 2006

found haiku

orange moonlight
on a worn
and darkened floor.

[found in richard morgan's woken furies.]

Wednesday February 01, 2006

measurements [haiku]

ten cm snow --
my son struggling
with measurements.

[oz 2005 toronto]

Friday January 13, 2006

starlings [haiku]

a recent glimpse of a sagging telephone line full of starlings reminded me of this wonderful haiku by george swede [from his almost unseen, sadly not available through chapters, even though he is a torontonian...]

seventeen
starlings on the telephone wire
sixteen

Friday January 06, 2006

a moment in firefly [haiku]

slowly going through the firefly box set. i find many haiku moments in firefly; perhaps a reflection of its creative attitude.

he chuckles, leaves -
inara's dark
eyes in disbelief.

[a moment between mal and inara in Our Mrs. Reynolds 10/4/2002]

after christmas [haiku]

this piece by Dee Evetts is found in lee gurga's inimitable haiku: a poet's guide, modern haiku press, 2003.

after Christmas
a flock of sparrows
in the unsold trees

Friday December 09, 2005

three haikus from october

autumn morning --
today's news
all wet.

[morning newspapers delivered without a plastic bag.]

morning meeting --
closing my eyes
sound of rain

autumn fog --
a sparrow
misses the window!

[markham, autumn 05]

Thursday November 03, 2005

fall colors [haiku]

watch carefully --
fall colors
dropping.

[markham, autumn 05]

eren watching falling maple leaves in our backyard.
nikon d70 with lensbaby 2, f/2.8
iso 1600, 1/640 sec.

Tuesday October 25, 2005

two haikus from warmer days

july siesta -
a turtledove
wants to chat.

august noon -
a crow wonders
if the cat is alive.

[summer 2005]

Wednesday September 07, 2005

abandoned to fall [a poem]

in new orleans,
shutters are useless now.
there is nothing
behind the wall.

there are no lives,
no jazz,
no hope
that is real.

there is only
great loss
pontchartrain tears
and ghosts
and one question
above all

why, please tell
we were abandoned
to fall.

new orleans, 1718-2005.

[image from the corner of chartres and ursulines. oz/98]

[lightly revised. this amateurish poem is as close as i can get to write about the loss of a city i visited and photographed many times. alas i do not know many of the other cities and towns devastated by katrina.]

Monday July 04, 2005

haikus from a beach far, far away...

july noon -
red hen pecks,
pecks and runs.

summer heat -
rooster on a tin roof
calls and calls.

hot summer morning -
a cricket
comes to shade.

summer nightfall -
endless murmur
of the beach.

[turunc/2005]

Monday May 30, 2005

two haikus [distillery jazz festival]

spring shower -
sounds of jazz
washed away.

sat may 28/05 - some afternoon showers during the jazz festival. rows and rows of empty seats near the distillery main stage.

spring rain -
a new rythm
to jazz.

sun may 29/05 - more minor afternoon showers drumming on umbrellas.

[image: not a montage. actual feed pipe sticking from the second floor of the pump house, now balzac cafe. distillery district.]

[haikus copyright 2005, ozan s. yigit]

Tuesday May 03, 2005

in the elder days of art...

longfellow wrote:

In the elder days of art
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part
For the Gods are everywhere

found this in Harry Frankfurt's essay on bullshit [now published as a tiny hardcover - originally a part of frankfurt's philosophical essays collected in the importance of what we care about, cambridge, 1988] alas, elder days are always marching forward, so this bit of verse is as relevant now as it was when written...

[image note: interior view of the window above the king enterence of st. james cathedral, toronto. see also my photo montages for an outside view]

Friday February 18, 2005

two haikus

winter sunset -
a hawk floats
near my window

[a special sight at markham offices: late afternoon, a red-tailed hawk rides the wind a couple of meters away from my eight-floor window. it is nearly motionless, watching the ground.]

early morning light -
crows near the shrine
louder than trains

[maiji jingu shrine is near the harajuku station. tokyo, jan 05]

[copyright ozan s. yigit. this work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.]

(2005-02-18 18:56:23.0) Permalink Comments [0]

Monday December 27, 2004

haiku for open solaris

clicking the tree
on open solaris -
yellowing leaves.

[oz, 2004]

[i wrote this haiku a couple of months ago, near a window overlooking a garden full of fall leaves, while browsing open solaris source tree.]

(2004-12-27 18:41:53.0) Permalink Comments [1]