Dead bee in her hand
lovely furry miracle.
'No buzz buzz! ' she weeps
enormous tears plop on bee
as if her grief could save him.
*******
Child holding hailstone
in her tiny hand as big
a mystery as...
magnificent as any
jewel...magic in her eyes.
*******
No sigh of Mr.
Bee...only his busy buzzing
he lost in flower.
Finally bee’s bum comes out
covered in yellow pollen.
*******
First hailstone & then
another & another
doing Beethoven’s
5th Symphony on tin roof.
And then...a shower of applause.
*******
I THINK SHE’LL MAKE IT!
Her doll with cracked skull!
Obviously...emergency!
She cries as I pour
more sawdust into her head
tape it in place with band-aid.
*******
Both her doll & she
falling asleep in the shade
both...closing their eyes.
Now – only doll wide awake
gazing at her sleeping child.
*******
My bike on its back
wheels up in air like a dead bug
getting puncture – fixed.
So fascinated...spins wheels.
Bike now...an amazing toy.
*******
Butterfly tiptoes
between raindrops...careful
not to awaken
flowers that have gone to sleep
dreaming that it is raining.
This is beautiful, or rather... these are beautiful. Strange how you mention the sun hitting the pavestones. Imogen often mentions how heavy raindrops look like butterflies dancing - how wonderful you penned those... thank you. HG: -) xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Now – only doll wide awake gazing at her sleeping child.' - I like the whole cycle - the tankas sound ike little cradle-songs, very sweet, with nice dose of magic, bees and miracles like in the childish world or in the folklore songs. I imagined the doll gazing at her sleeping child - its weird beautiful...