sole
frigid, in its frost
impervious, the earth’s scab
resists assured change
gleams, feeble muted,
stroke the forgiving surface
to summon rebirth
puny, shoots of hope
gallant, thrust and strive through ash,
frozen clink, clay, leaves
unfurled, leaves emerge
tenuous, exultant in
brilliant joyous dance
Linda Simoni-Wastila
My first love is prose, not poetry, but I enjoy the play of words on paper, the shadows and rifts that interrupt the vast white. Haiku is one form, so simple in appearance, yet so difficult in practice. Sole, Italian for sun, is inspired by the cold, white bleakness of winter that fades into promise of life. It follows the 'traditional' 5/7/5 meter, a bone of contention argued by many haiku purists (visit Poeticasides for more on haiku and other poetry styles).
Myself, I like the constraint imposed by haiku, the challenge of writing within parameters rather than having my thoughts catapault in free verse across the white page. But in the end, do rules matter? The faint trace of an image imprinted on the mind is what a poem hopefully leaves...
To capture the spirit of the ku... most elusive.
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I've read this poem before (or an earlier incarnation of it?), but never realized that sole meant sun in Italian, or even picked up on the haiku structure. I love it, because it's subtle and yet layered.
ReplyDeleteI just love your way with words, even when you're talking about what you like about poetry.
: )