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Friday, February 27, 2015

yellow blossom

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #75, MMT's "first yellow blossom"

Credits: Forsythia

first yellow blossom
sprouting from a slender branch—
Buddha bows his head

                                       © Magical Mystical Teacher

spirit wind kisses the bloom
while caressing Buddha's cheek
                                ©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


The Orchard

Carpe Diem #676, The Orchard

Credits: Orchard in Bloom, Louveciennes (1872) - Camille Pissarro
harvesting apples
in the backyard of my granddad
the old orchard

(c) Chèvrefeuille

leafless trees
umbrella of blossoms
fruitfilled dreams

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Actors are we

Carpe Diem Special #134, Fuyuko Tomita's "actors we all are, she said "

Actors we all are, she said
mirrors to reflect
each other
We all leave the stage, she said
and left a smile in mine

© Fuyuko Tomita

They looked to be that straight laced couple like in the famous painting.   You know the one where neither is smiling.  He is holding a pitchfork.  Her look of disapproval that he had probably just passed gas. That painting - American Gothic I think.  People would tiptoe around the couple just certain they did not approve of anything off color.  Would not offer drinks and certainly no profane language.

"Wrong-o, sour puss breath" as Johnny Carson might have told side kick Ed McMahon.  This is the couple that loved to concoct schemes to play jokes of folks.  They even had their grown son convinced he kept them awake snoring.  The son went home and asked his wife if he ever kept her awake snoring.  Of course not.  Your folks are just messing with you!

from behind the mask
the eyes stare in wonder -
as the pumpkin rises
great fun on all hallows eve
chocolate kissed smiles all around

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


©  Janice Adcock


Carpe Diem #675, House (au Auvers)

Credits: House au Auvers - Vincent Van Gogh

green and yellow
shadows dance on the wall 
a gentle breeze

(c) Chèvrefeuille

roof and walls
wood, nails and glass
love lite rooms

©  Janice Adcock
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Karumi (Lightness)

Sakura (woodblock) also karumi
feeling alone
lost in the woods around Edo –
just the autumn wind

© Yozakura

"Karumi is lightness, simplicity, becoming one with the experience you have on that moment when you are composing your haiku" is the host, Kristjaan Paneman, summation of the technique.

just one leaf
struggles with the wind
like Basho

© Chèvrefeuille 

"Haiku is not only a wonderful poem ... it's a life-style."© Chèvrefeuille

Stand in the grass or the snow or even in you bedroom.  Plant your feet firmly. Wrinkles or other imperfections no longer matter as they are now your bark.  Lift your arms from the trunk and reach, reach, reach for the sun.  Seek that energy that warmth which only sunshine can provide.

The earth is becoming warmer and now you feel the slow movement in your roots.  The gentle flow of nutrients in the sweet, sticky sap.  The sap moves upward through your entire being.  The tips of your branches are swelling.  Suddenly you are no longer bare, swollen branches but a majestic, leafy giant.  You are the tree.  The tree is you.

©  Janice Adcock

dove's feather -
whirled by the gusty wind
wobbly cartwheels

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Monday, February 23, 2015

28 Things

This week for the Spin Cycle, list 28 things. What things? That’s for you to decide. 28 random facts about yourself. 28 of your favorite movies. Your 28 favorite pins from Pinterest, or 28 fantastic photos that you took yourself. 28 wonderful quotes.  These are a few of my favorite things, one for each day of the month of February.

  1. Making my husband smile.
  2. Sharing time with my son.
  3. Watching my grandsons do something they are enjoying
  4. Talking/texting with my sisters.
  5. Banana anything.
  6. Giving a gift that makes the receiver smile.
  7. Writing.
  8. Sharing funny stories.
  9. Making people think.
  10. Getting something at a great price.
  11. Comfortable shoes.
  12. A room filled with the aroma of fresh flowers.
  13. Visiting photo blogs.
  14. Improving a skill.
  15. Butter pecan ice cream eaten out of the container.
  16. Not having an anger issue anymore.
  17. Living small.
  18. Planning a vacation.
  19. Sharing time with good friends.
  20. Playing Mexican Train dominoes.
  21. Electric candles that flicker.
  22. Cereal for breakfast.
  23. Blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup.
  24. Birdwatching.
  25. Photography
  26. Coffee House channel on Sirius Radio.
  27. WWII stories told by the veterans.
  28. Chocolate, of course.
What are your 28?  Write 'em up, spin 'em up and share them with the folks at The Spin Cycle.

Thanks to The Spin Cycle Host Ginny Marie


Carpe Diem #674, Channel

It is a Monday morning in late February.  In the normally warm areas of the USA, ice is making an ugly mess of things.  There are even small icicles hanging from the patio railing.  But for now let us turn to today's prompt, channel.  The underlying theme this month is impressionism.  Click here to read the challenge and other poets' responses.
Credits: Expectation - (c) Sapozhnikova Svetlana

the sky colors
in the most bright blue and pink
a new day rises

a new day rises
above the Venice channels
fading carnival sounds

fading carnival sounds
even the sun and clouds
are crying

(c) Chèvrefeuille

Channels in the sense of oceans, rivers and lakes are not something within my daily life.  The family farmed land where creeks were little more than very deep ditches that were dry except during rainy seasons.  These were called branches as in a branch of Honey Creek or East Fork.  The larger creeks usually had at least some flow even during the dry part of the year.  These days most of the branches have disappeared beneath concrete drains.  No trees for shade.  No fine silt for making excellent mud pies.  Just hard, unforgiving concrete used by skateboarders and roller bladders.

channel surfing
click, no, click. no
cooks, nature or crime

©  Janice Adcock
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Rice Blossoms

Carpe Diem Little Creatures #18, Issa's "rice blossoms"

Credits: Rice Blossoms
To fully appreciate any of these posts you can see all the background by clicking here or on the sub-title.  The following is but a sample.  And then on the host page there are so many poets with their wonderful takes on the inspiration.

The master's work:
tombô mo ogamu te tsuki ya ine no hana 

the dragonfly too
folds hands in prayer...
rice blossoms

(c) Kobayashi Issa
In doing some research on the rice blossom challenge I came across another blog that was about a family and their small rice farm.  After reading posts from that blog here is my novice contribution:

jasmine rice blooms
dragonfly sips dew drops
green perfumed air

lacewing aphid war erupts
among gleaming golden heads

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 



Carpe Diem #673, Rehearsal

Inspirations and full post here:

Credits: Dance Rehearsal in the Studio of the Opera
ballet dancers
ghostly images covered in smoke
modern swan lake

(c) Chèvrefeuille

Or this one ... more like an "impression" of the scene on the painting:

dark theater
in the dim light of the full moon
end of life dancers

(c) Chèvrefeuille

My contributions:

again and again
all about the technique

rehearse the walk
dad's little girl stumbles
bridal tears

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Sunday, February 22, 2015

First Kiss

Carpe Diem Time Glass #22, first kiss

silky soft skin
eyes squinted from the harsh light
love's warmth

©  Janice Adcock

hot summer sun
the first breathless caress melts

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Saturday, February 21, 2015

Bare Branches Touch

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #74, Jackie Le Poidevin's "Bare Branches Touch"

©  Janice Adcock
Bare branches touch
Over the lane where we walk,
Fingers entwined.

© Jackie Le Poidevin 

A nice and very romantic scene with a great comparison (bare branches touch/fingers entwined) in it. Really a nice haiku to start our Tan Renga with. The goal is to write the second stanza of two lines (7-7 syllables) to complete or continue the scene started in the haiku (or the first stanza).

Here is my (our host's) attempt to make this Tan Renga complete:

Bare branches touch
Over the lane where we walk,
Fingers entwined.
                                 (Jackie Le Poidevin)

no empty nest feelings finally

together again just the two of us                  (Chèvrefeuille)

Let me see how the muses lead me on this

Bare branches touch
Over the lane where we walk,
Fingers entwined.              (Jackie Le Poidevin)

upturned collars add warmth as
fiddleheads ache to unfurl     (©  Janice Adcock)

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 



Carpe Diem #672, Summertime

Our inspirations:

H"ello everyone – this is Paloma, helping Chèvrefeuille once again. It has been such an honor to help out at "arpe Diem Haiku Kai while he relaxes ..."

Sonce, 1905, Rihard Jakopič

it seems to wash
the summer mountains...


© Issa
A summer river being crossed
how pleasing

with sandals in my hands!

© Buson

Here is Paloma's impression:

rising sun
paints her shoulders golden –
summer morning – 

golden morning
after a night of thunder -

how silent it is

It is difficult for me to read the word summertime without the strands of the Gershwin's song ringing in my mind.  Ms. Ella Fitzgerald did it so sublimely.  Nods toward the absurdity of the easy living in the summertime.  Like everyone's daddy is rich and all mums being good looking.  If one ever spent a summer in the cotton fields of Texas or on the plains of Australia one would snort at the thought of easy living.

The image painted by this song makes me think of a servant caring for the child of wealthy people.  Images of the USA's southern lifestyle of the wealthy float through my mind.  The servant while often black was my Granny Chandler at one point.  After migrating from the Smoky Mountains and canning factory work she became a nanny to a doctor's children.  Through this work situation Granny met her husband, the man she always called Mr. Chandler.

One wonders if Granny ever had much input into a relationship where her husband was called by such a proper name.  A relation ship where Mr. Chandler refused to pay the doctor an extra $2 to sew Granny back together after childbirth.  Was she ever more than a baby factory and a nanny to Mr. Chandler?  Easy living indeed.

fitful dreams
the window's stale breath
bringing no relief
©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Friday, February 20, 2015


Carpe Diem Time Machine #4, Yellow

Paloma has once again given an interesting prompt for the Haiku Kai.

Here is Paloma's effort at haiku inspired by the painting:

morning washing –
the scent of yellow grass

clinging to my hem 

long into morning -
the scent of mud and green things

baked on yellow stones
Vincent Van Gogh.  Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women Washing, 1888. Wikimedia.

drawbridge creaks
she bends to the drudgery
stone washboard

water drawn
kettle's boiling hot water
washboard scrubbing

conclusions drawn
whites neither grey nor yellow
washboard success

sketches drawn
mechanized wash day wonder!
washboard retired

curtains drawn
hillbilly band plays a jig
washboard strummed

©  Janice Adcock
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille and Paloma for daily prompts on 


Thursday, February 19, 2015


Carpe Diem Special #133, Fuyuko Tomita’s “how lonely”

A guest who is really a sister member of the Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is hosting our prompt today.  Paloma is an outstanding poet seemingly always finding new approaches to the sweet, short haiku or slightly longer tanka.  To read her full post click here.  
Lesser Ury. Woman at Writing Desk, 1898. WikiAr

How lonely I would be
left behind on my desk
an unfinished poem
in the glorious morning sun  

This is Paloma's take on lonely:

at the bird feeder
three cardinals are squabbling –
a love triangle?

the poem that nudges my ribs 
is fading with the laundry

Now for mine:

no phone calls
friends too far for coffee dates -
lonely shadows

left over memories -
spilling from the quill's point

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille arranging  for daily prompts on 


Wednesday, February 18, 2015


This week on The Spin Cycle we are challenged to share something we binge on or are doing all the time.  I am a nut for Netflix.  I can spend hours watching BBC shows like Miss Marple and Hercule Poiroit.  I currently am in the eight season of  Inspector Morse.  I went through almost all 15 seasons of Midsomer Murders during a master bedroom and bathroom DIY remodel project.

Much to Husbands dismay I will get started on a series and not stop.  I go to sleep watching my tablet that is hung on the lamp by my bedside.  Yes, I wear earphones.  I think the flickering still sort of bugs Husband but he never complains.  H.O.U.R.S  on  E.N.D  I will watch for hours ... days ... weeks....  I am into Netflix!

I guess that is all I have to say about that.  Except when is the next season of Doc Martin and House of Cards due for release?

Thanks to The Spin Cycle Host Ginny Marie

Sunday Afternoon

Carpe Diem #671, Sunday Afternoon

A Sunday Afternoon - Georges Seurat
Time was Sunday afternoons were about family visits.  Most times our home was the host home.  Sometimes there were visits to others homes.  There was the occasional afternoons when Granny, Sis, Mom, Dad and I would set out on a Sunday drive.  One Sunday we 'followed the sun' west to the area I thought of as the drop off.  That was an area on hold Hwy. 24 with a hill that dropped away to the flat plains of West Texas. Seemed as if one could see to the ends of the earth.

One particular Sunday afternoon drive proved to be slightly more interesting.  The old, green 1949 Oldmobile was comfortable even with the three of us, Granny, Sis and me, in the back seat.  The Olds did not provide the luxury of air conditioning on that mid 1950's drive.  The tails of Mom's and Granny's headscarves flapped and snapped in the warm breeze of the open windows.  The vent windows were turned to catch more of the breeze.  Sis and I took turns trying to catch the air from the backseat windows in our hands.

The flat landscape revealed the distant horizon growing darker the longer we rode.  Yet Dad kept riding west, closer to the darkening skies.  Finally, due to Mom's persistent 'encouragement', Dad turned the car around and headed east toward home.  We were about 10 miles from home when the dark clouds overtook us.  Windows were quickly rolled up with one exception, the one by Granny in the back seat.  No plastic trash bag to cover up the window as they were not really available in the mid '50s.  Granny quickly scooted over to the other side of the seat.  Those last few miles baby Sis sat in her lap and I snuggled close.  That was the best Sunday afternoon ride ever!

strolling monks laughter
echoes off the cherry trees
blossoms giggle

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Wabi - Sabi

Carpe Diem Haiku Writing Techniques #7, The story of Wabi-Sabi continues

How does one get into a situation of attempting to write poetry?  What on earth is driving me to attempt this form of poetry in my senior years?  I have maybe a 1/4 of my life still to live.  Let me do the math, 68/x = x/4.  No, that is not right.  I was an A+ student in algebra.  This is just basic stuff.  So where is that single brain cell that knows this stuff?  Is it embedded in some dementia related plaque formation?  Gone forever into the abyss of old age?

That is maybe why I am attempting new things.  Ways to keep the mind active and fight the advance of years.  Sure 68 is 'young' in some books, like my family tree, Mom 96 and Dad six weeks short of 90. That is their bodies that lived that long,, the minds not quite so long.  I just want my mind to last as long as the body can perform.  

flour sack quilt
with her perfect stitches
only legacy

©  Janice Adcock

68 / 3 x 4 = 90 is a possibility given the dna.  Well, maybe that one cell is not completely covered in plaque.

Click here to learn more about the Wabi - Sabi approach in the subtlities of haiku poetry.

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Monday, February 16, 2015

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Time Glass - Fog

Carpe Diem Time Glass #21, FOG

Twenty four hours to write a new haiku or tanka about fog inspired by this painting.

Traveling at night through a pine forest near an ocean can have a couple of dangers:  deer and fog.  We left Dallas after the drive time traffic had cleared and headed toward Houston.  Husband was falling asleep at the wheel (that could be a singing group's name) which cause me to take over the driving.

The night grew darker as we drove deeper into the Piney Woods part of South East Texas .  And the  Husband snored louder.  While the 1972 F150 purred through the corridor of pines the air grew heavy with moisture.  Mixed with the cool night air the highway disappeared into fog.  I drove for probably 30 minutes in the watery mist, having reduced my speed to a safe pace.

Suddenly Husband's snore was more of a snort that awoke him.  He grabbed the dash as if he had seen a terrible something in the distance!  Then he shouted loudly, "There's a fog in the road!!!  Janice, there's a fog in the road."  Now when there is fog one of us invariably will say, "There's a fog in the road!" and laugh once again.  It really takes little to entertain us these days.

fifth avenue view
fog hides his departure 
tear filled eyes

experienced lies grow old
thinking back to foggy roads

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 



Carpe Diem #669, Scream

Credits: The Scream Edvard Munch

An explanation of the famous painting by the artist:

I was walking along the road with two friends 
the sun was setting 
suddenly the sky turned blood red
I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence 
there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city
my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety 
and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.

© Edvard Munch

It is rather amazing how many different sorts of screams there are in life.  There is the soil yourself scream from a sudden startle.  You have experienced that moment with a nearby thunder clap or sudden loud noise.  There is the scream of a parent as a child is in danger.  The screams of people on roller coasters are fodder for the funniest moments type videos.  Screams of joy as a favorite sports person or team makes an outstanding performance.  And there are other screams.

They were preparing for a short vacation to Hot Springs to watch the last of the horse races.  He had a slight cough and was not quite feeling up to par.  At the previously scheduled visit to his urologist an aside comment cancelled the vacation plans.  Instead there were x-rays and more immediate visits to the gp scheduled for three days later.  Over the weekend the husband begins coughing up tiny amounts of blood.
After a CAT scan on the fourth day they found themselves in an emergency room.  Almost immediately admitted to the hospital due to the 'enormous saddle clot' in the left lung .

Something going in the lower lobe of the right lung was thought to be pneumonia though no test would confirm that diagnosis.  Friday morning a sharp pain surged through his right side.  More CAT scans as his loud moans filled the room and halls.  The pneumonia appeared to have spread according to the confident very young intern.  "All looks good otherwise and he should be able to go home by Saturday afternoon".  Night found only the wife, husband, nurses and pinging machines in the room.  Then ..............

glazed eyes, no breath
waves of fear wash over her
screams for lost love

©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 


Saturday, February 14, 2015


Here are three haiku composed by Stevenson all three are about trains and I (Kristjaan Panneman) have tried to organize them to a little story:

the train picks up speed,
in a paper coffee cup
concentric waves

the river always
out there in the dark
late train home

coming home
on the train
... the backyards

(c) John Stevenson

under the full moon
the screech of a steam engine -
cherry blossoms shiver
© Chèvrefeuille

In the blackland prairies of north Texas there were not many trees or hills to stop sounds.  Train whistles sounded quite mournful and lonely from a distance.  I would lie in bed and wonder about the trains.  Where were they going?  Where had they been?  Would I ever have the opportunity to ride one of the trains?  Then the whistle would blow one more time its distant cry.

In my teen years my parents moved 'to town'.  The town had only about 650 people.  The community lay on either side of the rail road tracks with no home being more than maybe half a mile from the tracks.  The closer proximity to the tracks gave a different sound to the train whistles.  Loud and startling as they were meant to be.  A sound of warning.  Pretty jarring in the middle of a summer night when all the windows were open.

Those tracks are seldom used these days.  Train depots are vet clinics, tea rooms or novelty museums.  Few whistles to startle.  Fewer still with that lonesome cry.

new lands ahead
family tensely climbs aboard
train whistles goodbye
©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on 



Credits: The Dream post-impressionism painting by Henri Rousseau
"The Dream is the largest of the jungle paintings. It features an almost surreal portrait of Yadwigha (Jadwiga), Rousseau's Polish mistress from his youth, lying naked on a divan to the left of the painting, gazing over a landscape of lush jungle foliage, including lotus flowers, and animals including birds, monkeys, an elephant, a lion and lioness, and a snake. The stylised forms of the jungle plants are based on Rousseau's observations at the Paris Museum of Natural History and its Jardin des Plantes. The nude's left arm reaches towards the lions and a black snake charmer who faces the viewer playing his flute, barely visible in the gloom of the jungle under the dim light of the full moon. A pink-bellied snake slithers through the undergrowth, its sinuous form reflecting the curves of the woman's hips and leg.

One possible interpretation of the painting, offered by Rousseau in a letter to art critic André Dupont, is that it depicts a woman reclining on a couch in Paris, dreaming she is listening to a flute player in the jungle.

Suspecting that some viewers did not understand the painting, Rousseau wrote a poem to accompany it, Inscription pour La Rêve:

Yadwigha in a beautiful dream
Having fallen gently to sleep
Heard the sounds of a reed instrument
Played by a well-intentioned [snake] charmer.
As the moon reflected
On the rivers [or flowers], the verdant trees,
The wild snakes lend an ear
To the joyous tunes of the instrument."  (all copied from Carpe Diem Haiku Kai)

Host of the haiku group has provided his haiku inspired by the painting:

world asleep
birds sing their song
moonlight serenade

(c) Chèvrefeuille

Here will be my attempt.

hushed beasts
notes dance with moonbeams
lotus perfumed dreams
©  Janice Adcock

Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on