Yesterday’s Poem

This is the; ‘Should have

been written yesterday poem;

how lucky to be written at all

poem.’ It is also, ‘The I’ll write

straight onto the computer poem.’

.

‘This is the little bit grateful poem;

I’m coming alive poem: early in

the morning poem; a little bit

bleary eyed poem’ – but hey ‘Going

quite well poem.’

.

It could be, ‘The I don’t have to be

a very long poem.’ or ‘How did I get

this long poem?’

.

And now it becomes ‘The I’m getting

hungry poem; what’s for breakfast poem;

avocado and bacon on toast poem.’

.

‘Sorry, I have to go; my mouth is full poem.’

Yesterday’s poem; Happy New Year poem. Haeremai.

Benita H. Kape (c) 8.1.202

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Haeremai – Maori; greetings, welcome.

For me the syntax of the word haeremai

sits more comfortably than the word greetings.

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Tui: Bird of Adaption and Wit

There were three in one tree;

A banquet for a Tui.

Their beaks pushing through orange skin and juicy segments.

They did not expect a miracle.

But they made the most of it.

.

One sip and each a returnee.

Then another flew in.

Each bird ate in abundance and sang his happy clements

To the street: atypical,

None of them ready to quit.

.

They made of it a jubilee;

Their ample afternoon hui.

While we watched; marvelling at such different refreshments.

To your stories allegorical

The Tui’s adaption and wit.

.

Honey-eaters: what the Puriri?

Will Tui now be queuing

For their new-found, sweet dripping citrus indulgence?

Two voice boxes sing the oracle.

In an orange tree three Tui sit.

.

Benita H. Kape (c) 5.1.2022

  • Tui – a New Zealand song bird. These birds amazingly have two voice boxes; very melodious.
  • Hui – Maori word for meeting
  • Puriri – a sweet flowering New Zealand native tree
  • The did not expect a miracle. Line from “Black Rook in Rainy Weather” by Sylvia Plath.
  • We are so used to seeing Tui, honey-eaters, in our sweet flowering natives. It was a surprise to find them in an orange tree having a feast. Glorious singing birds.

“Rimas Dissolutas” French Literature.

I followed the example given of Sylvia Plath’s “Black Rook in Rainy Weather.”

Quote: “A poem that rhymes and doesn’t rhyme. For instance, each stanza contains no end rhymes but each line in each stanza rhymes with the corresponding line in the next stanza – sometimes employing an envoi at the end.

Here’s how the end rhymes would work in a Rimas Dissolutas with five line stanzas.

(1-a,2-b, 3-c, 4-d, 5-e) (6-a, 7-b, 8-c, 9-d, 10-e) (11-a, 12-b, 13-c, 14-d, 15-e)

There are no rules for metre, line length, or syllables – except it should be consistent from stanza to stanza.” ends quote.

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Driving Into The New Year – a Haibun

I’ve completed on arrangements and now there’s a hold up. Nothing happens in some quarters when it is a public holiday. Celebrations are on hold for me. The banks are closed. Even on-line nothing happens. What I wanted, taking its time to activate. It’s as simple as not having entered my mobile number to my bank profile.

I’m not of fan of the ubiquitous mobile phone. Simple as that. Now I must wait for a vague and distant activation.

Then the celebrations will begin. The corks waiting to pop.

.

disappearing sleigh and reindeer

a new chariot

at my door

Benita H. Kape (c) 4.1.2022

Took possession yesterday afternoon. Yeah.

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At the Beach Atop a Pole

Osprey @ Yeppoon photo

At the Beach Atop a Pole

The Osprey, nesting,

cracked on creatively.

Built her nest

in rare remove

atop a high pole

made to hold

street lights

near the beach.

 

See her muddle

of cracked and sturdy

twigs: the chick

lording it –

going truly crackers

at whoever comes near.

Benita H. Kape (c) 19.11.2019

My daughter noticing the nest came closer to take a photo and the chick had plenty to say about her invasion of space.

This is written for –

Quadrille #92: Take a crack at poeming.

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The Touch & Taste of Grace

Greatford church 1. 1510801_716339275067600_1553918831_n

The little organ still the same. The photo was taken in 2015

 

The Taste & Touch of Grace

 

Just as it truly is, a small and wondrous worshipping place;

Remove all artificial growth. Leave no trace –

So that I may fill in all past and precious detail;

The sound, the smell; the taste and touch of grace.

 

The door was never locked, no key to turn.

A child, I’d enter there, an eager, tender heart affirm.

On a stool, I’d sit quaint organ keys to test.

This after-school sunset hour, a joyful hour for my return.

 

I’d kneel at the altar and make a little prayer.

No one ever entered and found me there.

Oft’, rather than enter I’d sit on the nearby bridge.

Neighbours listening: at dusk, I sang in the evening air.

 

I just happened to be living close, that church not mine.

Seldom used now, though not through the years left in decline.

This painting on my wall holds sweet sights I recall,

A row of trees extremely tall; the musky smell of pine.

 

I dream of that little church I see so seldom now.

Again fresh painted, when down that lane my slumbers slow.

The old red cottage demolished, an ugly grain barn built.

But church and those dear memories through my dreams and senses flow.

 

Benita H. Kape © 16.2.2019

Greatford church (2)

My nephew, a joiner, makes repairs to the pews

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Game For Surprise for dVerse

I try to play games and then I find myself breaking the rules. Sorry, Sarah, I have taken more than the three words you asked us to play with. Still, it was fun. I could not get this to copy to WordPress as I had experimented in my Word Doc so I photographed it and wholla. I have a Game For Surprise. Enjoy

DSC02209

 

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