A Floridian Sketchbook: 50 Haiku

Haiku
by Karen Gladys Henry
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1
She sets out flowers–
gracious southern belle welcomes
with a sunny face.

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2
Blushing rose princess–

Diana, in her glory,
did not outdress you.

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3
Exotic namesakes,
a crazy quilt of saris–
Uncle Dave’s lilies.

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4
Flaming azaleas,
robin’s egg sky– you and I
under the dogwood.


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5
Sunrise in your arms–
honeymoon at ocean’s edge,
sandpipers jogging.

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6
Tidal lullaby,
rocking me like a hammock,
sea oats whispering.

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7
Love has found you here–
full moon rise in black and white,
ocean laughing clear.

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8
Two birds on the beach,
shivering in fur coats, watch
the Leonids fall.

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9
Bird’s-eye view of legs
dangling down from the surfboards,
sharks swim all around.

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10
Anastasia wins:
two pairs of sunglasses now,
taken by the waves!

*


11
Up and down the beach–
where are all the sanddollars?
Must have gone shopping.

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12
Beachcombers flying
back and forth-- five pelicans
searching for supper.

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13
Flashy flamingos’
fickle feathered finery
favors fuchsia feasts.

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14
Blue heron fishing–
silver spear head turns slowly,
disappears like mist.


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15
Mourning dove wakes us;
mockingbird keeps company–
soothe us, whippoorwill!

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16
Martha Hummingbird,
busier than Butterfly–
stay a little while!


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17
Mimosa party:
six designer butterflies
sip pink lemonade.


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18
Crimson cardinal
in a lacy white dogwood–
Valentine from God.

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19
Growing side by side,
palm fronds and cherry blossoms–
artistic license.

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20
Graceful gray branches,
blooms like Japanese teacups–
pink kimono tree.

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21
Southern magnolia:
fashion queen in green leather,
corsage of cream silk.


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22
At the Live Oak Club,
the wrinkled old gad-abouts
all wear the same hair.

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23
Like giant bonsai,
coastal live oaks are shaped by
patient, unseen hands.

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24
White shower curtains
soggy feet of cypress trees
bathing in the swamp.


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25
Opalescent cloud
strolling on the waterway–
a ghost or the Sun?

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26
Sailboat with the wind,
pushes away the water;
the water follows.

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27
Boats on the river,
at leisure: here comes a squall–
watch them all race home!

*

28
Savage tornado–
what black thought would turn your head
to do such damage?

*


29
Lightning bolt zagging,
zapping down electric lines.
Who’s got the power?


*

30
A cool day at school!
Lightning ball rolls down the hall,
pop quiz forgotten.

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31
Luminous rainbow
dips its feet in the water
on such a hot day.

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32
Double rainbows bridge
the busy, sun-bathed Buckman–
a smile, three miles long.


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33
Coral red blaze, ruched
canopy with gilded seams–
why does no one gaze?


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34
He paints with feathers–
salmon, gold, aquamarine–
then signs with a sigh. . .



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35
Little brown bunny,
hopping across the asphalt–
look out for the hawk!

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36
Armadillo, sir–
please, help yourself to insects,
just not my daisies!

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37
Unison chorus–
crickets in the Zoysia
laughing at the frogs.

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38
Litterbug squirrel!
He drops his finished pinecones
like picnic corncobs.


*


39
"Walk the plank!" hiss the
racoon pirates: "Yo-ho-ho,
or give us dinner!"

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40
On the garden path,
baby alligators sun.
Where is your mother?


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41
Cold Ichetucknee,
I can swim faster than the
water moccasin!

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42
Timucuan natives
dipped into the moon– their boats
on Black Creek, silent.


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43
Fourth, on the St. John’s–
quiet manatees swim in
reflections of fire.

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44
Still men in still boats,
on a morning still and gray,
make fish go in seine.



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45
She built a birdhouse,
and got a sunflower patch!
(The birds were pleased, too.)

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46
Detest the mildew–
how it spreads like the black plague;
love the fairy rings!

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47
These are strange gardens–
undulating surfaces,
sand, and eighteen holes!

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48
Daily the workers
empty the cat’s water bowl–
thirsty honey bees.

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49
Disney’s dream gardens:
the only parks on Earth where
magic grows on trees.


*

50
Sapphire, sun-swept day!
You take me to Narnia,
land where children reign.



*******


by Karen Gladys Henry ©2004/ 2009

image: Surreal Reflections (montage with watercolour effect)

I'm My Beloved's

I’m my beloved’s, my beloved is mine.
His kisses are heady as vintage wine.
His eyes are the blue of a changeable sea,
But his love never changes in his heart towards me.

I’m always content in my lover’s arms–
His calm strength supports me so nothing alarms.
When thunderclouds threaten, no storm can quell
The love that abides through the fires of hell.

Call me, beloved, to the mountains of mist,
To the silence that speaks of an intimate tryst
On a moss-felted floor. Oh, wander with me
‘Til the green sun sinks in the babbling sea!

The voice of the waterfall calling the wren
Sings of forever, beloved of men.
Love is a torrent– the water of Life,
Quenching the flames of dissonant strife.

I’m my beloved’s; my beloved is mine.
The fires of love melt and refine.
No waters can quench the flame of love.
We belong to each other and the Lord above.



Karen Gladys Henry
January 27, 2003
reworked, February 6, 2009

***

"Many waters cannot quench love,

Nor can the floods drown it.

If a man would give for love

All the wealth of his house,

It would be utterly despised."

Song of Songs 8:7

The White Stone

There You stand, majestic and mercy-minded,

in the ferocious white radiance of Your judgment hall.

Eyes of the Lion, fierce, yet love-gentled,

beckon me;
I proceed until the peace of Your
fearsome
proximity
washes over me in hushed powerful rivers of wind.

I hold out my hand in response to Your thought~

~In my palm You place an oval white stone,

opaline, yet priceless in its stability.

I gaze upon it in wonder,

as it begins to carve upon itself,

in eloquent soft fire, the noble new name

You had promised me long ago.

The jewel offers me its perpetual memorial

of light.

My heart beats triumphantly

for the many trials and struggles

that have won this name for me, humbly~

~for without Your constant aid

I would still have failed.

You close your strong, graceful,

scarred hands slowly around mine~

~the stone pulsing with a living warmth.

You look deeply into me~

my heart, my entire life~

~and in Your sonorous, joy-ringing voice

You say, "Well done."

Your smile wraps around me

in a king-brotherly embrace.

As this vision of hope solidifies

within me,

I advance towards You,

tension-fighting with yes and no.

"I know", Your eyes say~"Come."

Presently, You place a hot, rough stone

in my hand~
a huge raw garnet that glows

carmine and heavy~
like Your blood.

And the stone says,

with Your blissful-sad-lovely voice,

"I forgive you. Do not give up."

*******

Karen Gladys Henry ©2004
*******

"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it." Revelation 2:17

Call of the Bride

Call of the Bride

*******

Beneath the white silk damask sky

She waits, breathlessly–
Her heart pounding as she gazes

Through an open door in heaven,
Her foot upon the silver sea with mirrored clouds amounding.
Hidden fish graze, silent, as a rose blush

Gently spreads upon His fragrant breath,
Deepening the red glow within the thunderheads.
Horns of light break through from the

Blinding brilliance of His anteroom,
Carrying warmth into the chilly spring.

She dips her satin slipper in, making ripples
That urge out into the vastness with a ever-increasing plea:

"Come quickly for me, my Love".
Wisteria vine shakes free its husky scent,

And the veil that hides the woman’s face blows back,
Revealing tears that flow in rivulets

Along the contours of her cheeks,

Blanched at His thunder.
Her breastbone resonates with fear and trembling

That take her, echo through her, shake her.

She leans against the gnarled oak, guard of the shore,

For generations unspeaking;
And as her reddening ear presses hard against the bark,

She hears its wizened voice–
Deep and groaning like ancient branches in a tempest:

"I am waiting for you."
And in it she hears the cry of the Groom,

The cry of creation, the cry of the unborn,
The cry of the seers, the cry of the martyrs,

The cry of heaven to make all things new.

Then a wail, long and terrible,

Called out from the depths of her being by the cries of the ages,
Swirls with crimson and gold and cobalt and emerald

To stir the four winds of heaven,
As the curtain of her heart is rent in twain

With a sound like the rending of the sky.

The woman falls to the ground weeping into the moss.

The angels watch hushed, awestruck,

Wondering, pondering the cross that the Bride and Groom share.

Fog rolls in from the silver sea,
Luminous, voluminous, redolent with frankincense and myrrh;

Hope rolls in, billows in, envelopes her.
Silence looms for half an hour until flecks of fire

Begin to sparkle down her spine,
Down the tendrils of her hair, down the long length of her legs,

Down her fingers in the moss.

And little streams of fire trickle into the deep green moss,

Across the garden paths, out into the silver sea,

Until the world glitters with the fire

Of her passionate love for her Groom.

Then she rises, slowly at first,

Gracefully stretching up onto toetips,

And commences a winsome dance
In her white linen gown~ fine as gossamer,

Embroidered by unseen wisdoms~

Spinning faster and faster,
Like a whirlwind from Eden,

Until all the winds of the earth and sky

Are pulled into her dance.
A golden glory grows ever brighter

And more magnificent around her,

Her adoration beautifying her
Beyond all the treasures of the world of man.

Transported by pure joy into the very Throneroom of heaven,
She falls at His feet in wonderment and wordless worship.

Then the Bridegroom smiles,

And the smile lingers like a summer sunset.

Ripe figs drop to the earth.
Calves drop, and foals drop,

And fawns drop and lambs drop

As the earth replies in fruitfulness of joy.

The earth yields up all its crops, glorying in the sunshine

Of the Groom’s smile. And the reapers come,
Wielding their mighty sickles,

Gathering up the golden, sun-ripened grain

Into the storehouses of heaven.

Then He takes up His sword,

His magnificent two-edged sword~

Sharper than sharpness~ and splits the sky.
He splits the mountains, and He splits the sea,

And He sunders the heavens in twain.
Stars fall like an autumn rain.

He splits the atoms in rock and air,

Fire consuming all the visible realm.

And His voice– like an orchestra of trumpets,

Like unfathomable waters

Crashing on immeasurable shores,

Like the rumblings of the seven holy thunders,

Like the applause of all the universe–

Cries out to the Bride:

Arise!

*

Karen Gladys Henry, circa 2006

*******

Inspiration (Write Painterly)

Inspiration (Write Painterly )

Wander placidly
Under graceful, glowing trees.
Walk poetically
In the silky breeze.
Watch patiently
The flitting amber patterns.
Wish prolifically
For limpid scenes of truth.
Woo persistently
The verdure’s gold reflections.
Wake prayerfully
And follow His design.
Worship purely
The Master of expression.
Widen prismatically
When christened by the sun.

Work playfully
To hear the meaning in the melody.
Waltz prophetically
To the concert of His voice.
Wait pensively
For chromatic consecration.
Welcome perceptively
The chords of pearly light.
Wonder poignantly
At the merging of creators.
Write painterly
The revelation of His choice.

Karen Gladys Henry ©2003

Rinnah

Rinnah


Thunderheads
Moving mountains
Ominous
Saturated
With woe

Tiniest tips
Catch it first
Whirling winds
Tempest heralds
My woe

Trembling leaves
Agonized tossing
Premonitions
Pages of a tree
Torn out

Drops of heaven
Bolt of anguish
Light can be darkness
Splitting of a tree
And heart

One clear moment
Shriek of grief
Creaking woe
Seizure of a soul
Torn out

Smell of ozone
Earth and moss
Tenuous mist
Kissed by a sunray
My loss

Aching ashes
Measureless fog
Mouldering branches
Rotting in the damp
My heart

Snowfall
Frozen ashes
Birdfolk abandon
Merciful deadness
To pain

Slow silence
Sodden ashes
Greenly smiling
Earth sighs a prayer
For me

Dawn testing
Blackened branches
Titmice nesting
Weave in a thread
Like hope

Hope perches
On deadened limbs
Tingling sap
Woodpecker chips
My heart

First leaf
Tentative venture
Roseate buddings
Winter rejected
My grief

Virile sun
Breaks out in song
Edenimity
Woos me again
To joy

Shout of love
Shoots out in triumph
Verdance remembered
New branches born
Rinnah*

Karen Gladys Henry
February 24, 2007

*******

"Weeping may endure for a night,

But joy* comes in the morning."

Psalm 30:5

Visitation

Visitation

A voice, mysterious in the night,
Beckoned my spirit to come partake
And soul to curious wonder wake
As the wholesome moon shone silvery white.


To sylvan porches bedecked with dew,
Majestically swooped two guests to perch
On the outstretched arms of River Birch.
My humble bench was a reverent pew.


Enthralled, I gazed on the visionly pair:
Great snowy owls with haunting grace
Who shared my flowery secret space
As they hooted husky whisperings there.


Lord Gr’Owl and Gwendolyn Owl reported
The groaning travail of Mother Earth
For Aslan’s rapturous reign to birth.
They timelessly tarried with truth. . .and courted.


"The love of Humankind waxes cold,
For daunted, the Serpent his thirst would slake.
Now, Owls shall hungrily hunt for snake!
Spread winsome wings and talons unfold!"


So sat I breathlessly in the spell
And revelled in musical birch perfume,
My heart a timpani’s tearful boom
To the mystical moontide’s comforting swell.


A voice, mysterious in the night,
Bade my spirit the World neglect
And soul be owlly circumspect
As the moon-faced orb shone magically bright.

Karen Gladys Henry
July 26, 2002

listen

***

symphony on rooftops, cloudburst’s sweet finale
sun-dripped walks together to melodic fountains
baby brooklet banters free with tumbling otters
impassioned cry of water’s leap, headlong off the mountains
crooning of the river to the swooning valley
whistling whales through whitecaps strum
voice of many waters

whirring green of dragonfly; lilting laugh of child
whispers of the marches in the berry leaves
whoosh and creak of swinging–childhood’s dreamy wonders
pant of labor, gasp of joy–the breath of love conceives
gusts of orange grandeur; wailing whirlwinds wild
angels blast triumphant trumps
God of glory thunders

planet oratorios, thrumming orbs of space
clashing of the ethnos; howling demon hordes
heaving groans of earth’s crust; cracking sky’s fascade
man’s loud machinations; singing of the swords
tick and hum and murmur of the daily race
heartbeat’s thrill to Spirit’s drum
still, small voice of God

Karen Gladys Henry
July 6, 2004