Patricia has recently retired from teaching after 30 years, and now devotes some time to the reading recovery programme at her local school. She is the co-editor of the New Zealand haiku magazine Kokako and reviews editor of the online magazine Stylus. She writes short stories, poetry, reviews and articles, and likes to write collaborative poems with other poets.
Contact Patricia: pprime at ihug.co.nz.
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9 thoughts on “”
This one and the one about the confetti in the suitcase of the newlyweds are both important to me.
In this one in particular, however, I get the feeling of a very precise moment in time. This might contrast with the “disused” aspect of the rail bridge, though I wonder if I’m not reading too much into it here.
I mean, even just to say “old” rail bridge might add more depth, perhaps.
But I’m not complaining. Again, the taughtness of the bungy cord says haiku in a new and important way for me.
Dear Don, Thank you for taking the time to write about my haiku. It’s always nice to have feedback as one doesn’t feel as if one is writing in isolation. I think you’re correct in what you say about the word “disused” as, in fact, the old wooden bridge is now being used for the entertainment of bungy jumpers – the new rail bridge passes at a distance and necks crane from the windows to watch as the train passes.
upon first reading, i was moved to pass over this haiku, or at best to tackle it over the weekend; perhaps, left senseless from a long trying week.
eavesdropping on don’s and pat’s words stirred, or should i say, “inspired”, my thoughts.
pat, i like the understanding left by “disused”, often time, the bungy jumper seeks out of the way places, no longer used, or rarely used; with that said, perhaps “unused” would have done nicely.
“taut” definitely was a haiku moment. when one thinks of bungy jumping, the act brings on this thought of elasticity. taut brings this action to a halt, a “moment” in time.
pat, never fear isolation of your labors. there’s always someone who will take the time to read it, if you write it.
case in point:
for all my comments, though thoroughly disagreed with, some take the time to dispel my beliefs.
keep writing
after all i’ve said, yes, i liked the haiku, also.
Dear Bob, Nice to hear from you again. Yes, I prefer “unused” to “old” – it was the feeling of decay that I was after, contrasted to the “new” sport of bungy jumping. What a difference a word makes, eh? In haiku, where every word counts, the subtle nuance of a word can make all the difference. Thanks, Pat
I liked this haiku too. There was an immediate image in my mind. The words captured something that is usually hard to discribe. North of where I live is an old railway bridge used for bungy jumping. Good work. Bob’s words were encouraging for me too. Thanks for that Bob. Shirley
think of one being enveloped in shadows for hours; then, at the least expected moment, the sun comes “bursting” through. how many have felt the passionate lips of the sun, kissing one’s cold face
This one and the one about the confetti in the suitcase of the newlyweds are both important to me.
In this one in particular, however, I get the feeling of a very precise moment in time. This might contrast with the “disused” aspect of the rail bridge, though I wonder if I’m not reading too much into it here.
I mean, even just to say “old” rail bridge might add more depth, perhaps.
But I’m not complaining. Again, the taughtness of the bungy cord says haiku in a new and important way for me.
Thanks
Dear Don, Thank you for taking the time to write about my haiku. It’s always nice to have feedback as one doesn’t feel as if one is writing in isolation. I think you’re correct in what you say about the word “disused” as, in fact, the old wooden bridge is now being used for the entertainment of bungy jumpers – the new rail bridge passes at a distance and necks crane from the windows to watch as the train passes.
Thanks, Pat
upon first reading, i was moved to pass over this haiku, or at best to tackle it over the weekend; perhaps, left senseless from a long trying week.
eavesdropping on don’s and pat’s words stirred, or should i say, “inspired”, my thoughts.
pat, i like the understanding left by “disused”, often time, the bungy jumper seeks out of the way places, no longer used, or rarely used; with that said, perhaps “unused” would have done nicely.
“taut” definitely was a haiku moment. when one thinks of bungy jumping, the act brings on this thought of elasticity. taut brings this action to a halt, a “moment” in time.
pat, never fear isolation of your labors. there’s always someone who will take the time to read it, if you write it.
case in point:
for all my comments, though thoroughly disagreed with, some take the time to dispel my beliefs.
keep writing
after all i’ve said, yes, i liked the haiku, also.
Dear Bob, Nice to hear from you again. Yes, I prefer “unused” to “old” – it was the feeling of decay that I was after, contrasted to the “new” sport of bungy jumping. What a difference a word makes, eh? In haiku, where every word counts, the subtle nuance of a word can make all the difference. Thanks, Pat
I liked this haiku too. There was an immediate image in my mind. The words captured something that is usually hard to discribe. North of where I live is an old railway bridge used for bungy jumping. Good work. Bob’s words were encouraging for me too. Thanks for that Bob. Shirley
aethestic link
old hanging bride
by a modern arched bridge
unused trail –
sunlight
bursting through the leaves
–
Dear Bob, I don’t think you need the word “bursting” in your haiku. Pat
sun shower
the bungy jumper falls
into a rainbow
patricia,
again i smile.
think of one being enveloped in shadows for hours; then, at the least expected moment, the sun comes “bursting” through. how many have felt the passionate lips of the sun, kissing one’s cold face
quite an explosion