Autumn 2019 Showcase

Funny old time, early Autumn, around these parts. At times it seems as though summer won’t give up without a struggle. At other times the old season of mists and mellow fruitfulness dumps more rotting Victorias on the flagstones just the street side of the garden fence than you would have been able to pick and eat anyway, while the yield of a trusted tree is… silent. At other times again the season can’t look you straight in the eye for fear you’d catch a hint of its age; at such times it may shed tears, its single eye may redden low on the horizon, it may squall with anger. This time round, it seems to be lulling us into a false sense of security.

the trees all stand still

as we sway a bird tumbles

in the contrailed sky

.

I’m having an Autumn clean-out, so I don’t know quite what’s going to be in this package. As always – tell your friends – I’m looking for new names to put amongst the old ones. Put them in touch. Here’s an idea – I’ll cut across the tone of this Showcase and include some some monochrome photos, in the hope that one or two of you, particularly newsters, will feel inclined to write something that it leads them to. They were taken by a friend of mine and were shot around Dundee. But don’t describe the photos, just let them give you a Proust/madeleine moment…

This is a kind of catching-up issue. There’ll be a kind of autumnal feel to some of the items below, a feel if not a direct reference. That’s why I’ll included them, when I can find them, largely on a whim; but that’s the prerogative of an editor. Enjoy.

Marie Marshall

editor

the zen space

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Michael Dylan Welch

.

hospital waiting room –

the drinking fountain

stops humming

.

sleeping toddler –

a bit of the ocean

left in his plastic pail

.

relaxing my arm

butterfly

on the bullseye

.

crackling beach fire –

we hum in place of words

we can’t recall

.

scent of wisteria –

she finishes translating

the birth certificate

.

first cold night –

the click of your domino

as we play by the fire

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Rae L

.

Dancing green-haired girl

Bends to strap on creamy bells:

Lily of the valley blooms.

.

Roused by a single

Winter goose’s sleepy honk,

I stir, doze again.

.

Tropical climate:

Winter falls in pale thinnings,

Not in flakes and drifts.

.

Even when you’re gone

After-shave clings to damp sheets.

Turn over…breathe you.

.

A yellow balloon

Against a slate-clouded sky.

Faintly, a child sobs.

.

Mobula takes wing,

Sky and sea united in

Function if not form.

__________

Debbie Strange

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Kiersta Recktenwald

.

autumn’s eve

swaying curtained light

reclination

luminous flowing

northern lights reminding

.

gods sleep  we weep

leaves fall  we rise

air shattered

awakened  assured  alive

forever as new

.

whence and wither

leap our lives loving

new time

over memory’s banks

thru which this river flows

.

finally  night

holding us firmly

hearts as one

ever the closer

making clouds disappear

.

If lost to the world

I could pronounce another

which, like our playthings,

would engage, instruct, delight –

lending anticipation.

.

Her ebony face

lights its way through the crowd,

eyelids fluttering

like sky that reappears

betwixt twin stars at blinking.

__________

Bernadette Duncan

.

after a clear night

floating in the water butt

elderflower stars

__________

Peter Butler

.

crossing

the dateline

missing Tuesday

.

end of a tough season

the tourist guide

pointing at shadows

.

stargazing

from her

memorial bench

trying to picture

her final wishes

.

on screen
he breathes charisma
in the flesh
short, delicate, dull
she crumples the autograph

__________

Robert Sorrels

 

 

 

 

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Graham Nunn

.

the river

this morning

feeding the cormorant

.

chanting Santoka

in the nursery

our son settles

.

heat haze

my hat’s

small offering

.

still pond

a dragonfly’s silence

and mine

.

sleeping ducks

and my tired face

between them

__________

Joanna Ashwell

.

wavering stars
a surface ripple
stirs the night

.

whispers travel

between the moon

and the old oak

.

exposed once more
the river recedes
taking the path with it

.

a cry pierces the evening

only the moon

finds the caller

__________

Ese’s Voice

.

rain chain shudders

water droplets find refuge

tomorrow again

__________

Kathryn Yuen

.

kettle whistles

a cup of tea?

Buddha and happiness-botherers proud

.

a young male dancer

taps and twirls in time

to the joy of life

__________

The next Showcase at the zen space will be Winter 2020 which will be released, subject to karma, on 1st January 2020.

Please note that the copyright of all written work and images used in this Showcase and elsewhere in the zen space is held by the creating author/artist, even when not explicitly stated, and may not be used elsewhere without permission.

[Any advertisements etc. below this line are not the responsibility of the editor of the zen space, and should not be considered to have been endorsed by the zen space or by the editor personally.]

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