A follower kindly suggested I add a haiku to my post on the Angel (8-20-18), making it a haibun for d’Verse. I doubt my ability but thought it might be fun to watch me squirm:
raindrop eats the light
firefly carries it
forest eats the fire
fire eats the forrest
NO, that’s connected in no way at all to the Angel story. Try again, Nan. (Besides, it’s not 5-7-5)
Choir of crickets blare
Two roads diverging at night
flat tire disaster
or
Angels in the night
Descend Respond to cry needs unspoken
Hosannas Don’t forget thank-yous.
but
it’s not supposed to directly continue the first part. So,
The old bullfrog belched
down the road over the hill 
he’s and fat with insects
synchronicity
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About Nan Mykel
I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.)
For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic.
Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again.
When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever.
I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
I wish I knew more about hiakus
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Yer pullin’ my leg. Go to Google but spell it right. That’s how I learned the smidgen I know. Good luck.
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Not pulling your leg. You mentioned that the last line was not directly related. I have searched (and searched again last night) and can’t find anything about that. But that’s OK.
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I’m looking for my source–I have so many papers and so little filing skills and so many years behind me! If I come across the source I promise to share.
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Thanks.
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Welcome.
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They’re all lovely Nan. The last one, pertaining to the Angel story works perfectly with it. For someone who doesn’t know much about haiku (who does), these are spot on, each stand in its own right and the last fits the Angel story – oh! I’ve already said that. I think you’re a bit late to link it up to the haibun prompt on Dverse but perhaps the next haibun prompt will inspire the muse – as the case may be. Well done!
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You’re so kind…Thank you.
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I enjoyed reading your process here, Nan…very entertaining! I think I like the first one best 🙂 But now I’m wondering, what to serve on a haybun?
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Let me know! Thanks for the response. I’ve been laying kinda low recently because I’m trying to polish up my 39 chapters of “Transgendering Soul,” which I don’t want to self-publish. I’ve become paranoid recently and too suspicious of the self publishing folks, in addition to feeling negative towards Amazon. I’ve also realized they can sell a “good as new” book without paying royalties. So, I want to wrap up this book and let someone–me or my heirs–start it on the long rejection road to success.
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