One dreary autumn morning I went to the YMCA for my twice-weekly exercise. There staring at me from the door was a big poster with a boy's picture. It is a wanted sign with the parents offering a monetary reward for the safe return of their 14-year old runaway son.
I was so touched by this sad incident which kept haunting me that later that day, while waiting for lunch at my favorite eatery, I wrote these poems at the back of the sales receipt. This is an example of a poem that wrote itself.
First I tried a haiku:
a broken bat lies
in his near empty room
their runaway son
but I needed to expand it a little bit more, so I wrote a tanka:
autumn chill
a broken bat
and busted ball crowd
his near empty room
their runaway son
3 comments:
When I saw the first line of the first haiku I immediately got an image of a dead bat, a creature lying with its wings broken.
You're funny Gwilym. A bat (bird) is never broken, well, maybe its wings... Baseball bats and balls (in the US) are mostly associated with young boys who try to emulate their elders.
Anyway, most of the materials for my next book will come from this blog and my original website. I'm eagerly waiting for your book.
Take care,
Vic Gendrano
I posted the book by airmail. Thought it would be with you by now. I'm enjoying yours which is permanently on my bedside table along with George Szirtes' just published 'selected and new'.
Here in Vienna a bat immediately brings to mind a 'Fledermaus' because of the opera 'The Bat'.
Good wishes,
Gwilym
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