Throw out the old, ring in the new. I’m sure I’m not the only one who is acutely aware of the ebb and flow of time as 2007 slips away. Time for reflection, for re-organizing, for making new plans and scrapping old projects. Donate those sweaters not worn in years; go through the piles of books in the corners and make hard decisions about the ones that will never be read; scratch out a list of things to do in 2008, places to see, people to visit. Then the important stuff: where am I and how did I get here?
Maybe it’s not just that the new year approaches. Maybe these thoughts occupy me because of the music I’ve been playing. Or maybe I play this music because it is the end of the year?
This Time by Los Lobos:
Why do the days
Go by so fast
If only time
Was built to last.
Precious Time by Van Morrison from his Back on Top CD:
Precious time is slipping away
But you’re only king for a day
It doesn’t matter to which god you pray
Precious time is slipping away.
Bob Dylan got in the act, of course (Not Dark Yet):
Shadows are falling and I've been here all day
It's too hot to sleep time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet, but it's getting there.
And there's no way I'm going to chance Puño de Tierra.
It’s all about time, lack of time, time will tell, time is on my side, time after time -- time out.
The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dalí
I hung my 2008 Chicano Art Calendar (Amber Lotus Publishing) and it looks great. The artists include Santiago Pérez and his magnificent First Aztec on the Moon, a piece that impressed me years ago when I viewed his work at the National Hispanic Cultural Center in Albuquerque; Malaquías Montoya’s powerful Trabajo y así transformo el mundo; Our Lady of Guadaliberty by Nephtalí De Léon; and several other amazing Chicano and Chicana artists. But, the real reason this calendar was on my wish list is because Carlos Frésquez is featured. His dynamic A Westside Wedding stands in for June, naturally. Carlos is an old friend and this painting evokes deep emotions in anyone familiar with the lore and mythology of Denver’s Westside, and for those who don’t know the stories, Carlos’s work is still very cool.
So, how about some nostalgic end of year or New Year celebration haiku? La Bloga would love to see your efforts. Here’s one to get you started; I know you can do better.I stare at the clock
Round face ignores the question
Tick tock says it all.
Have a great 2008.
As always,
Later.
In response to your request, here's one attempt, from the opposing view:
ReplyDeleteThe man keeps asking
The clock keeps on ticktocking
Until he gets it.
RudyG, unpoet
Spanglish haiku?
ReplyDeleteTear off one more month
Ese mes ya no huele
That I tear, smells sweet.
I'm on a roll; somebody stop me, please!
RudyG
Or one about Lisa's post-foto from yesterday?
ReplyDeleteBare shoulders mujer
Frisky pelo on rojo
A smile hiding her.
RudyG, unpoet
I give up; haikuing's too hard.
Three six five, like 5
ReplyDeleteSeven five. Time’s tyranny?
Or haiku’s mere form?
No month for old men.
Auld’s eve needs youth’s stamina.
Look forward, senex.
Ooh la la --- I'm now an RG haiku!
ReplyDeleteFeeling a little tired after the Christmas mole making sojourn, but I'll try my hand at a little 5-7-5.
Time passes, we learn
or we miss the point, dear friends.
Love, laugh, forgive, smile....
And M --- my thanks to you for a wistful look at the one commodity we can never hoard, no matter how hard we try....
¡Ay Dios mio!
ReplyDeleteWhere has el año flown to?
Middle age takes hold.
Hey, you all are pretty good. Like real writers or something. I'm still expecting a few of our readers to take up the Haiku challenge. A ver.
ReplyDeleteNew world out there, our
ReplyDeleteTransformative politics:
Earth, air, fire, ice. Love.
So good! Tamales
ReplyDeleteDe la Universal! Sweet
Or meat—memories.
Año Nuevo
ReplyDeleteAncient gingko golds,
Holds another Mission year.
Old women. New men.
What an excellent start, and muchisimas gracias a Lorna!
ReplyDeleteLorna Dee, poet,
strings words together with grace,
blossoms in mind's eye.
Lisa
Lorna Dee:
ReplyDeleteYour first two wondrous
Your third gently fuddled me,
A thorn, on petals.
RudyG