Sole

A walk through a forest warmed by the sun.

Sole. I like this Italian word, for isn't the sun a 'soul' of sorts, and the 'sole' thing we yearn for through winter's never-ending bleakness?

An excerpt from my four-stanza haiku Sole to celebrate the advent of Spring.

puny shoots of hope
valorous, thrust and strive through
frozen ash, clay, rock

My soul found some peace today... hope yours did as well. Linda

Dabbling in Haiku... Sole

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.