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Ivette's

Art

37 haiku

On December 24th 2023, Ivette sent these haiku to David Jacobs, editor of the Red Moon Press, to be considered for inclusion in a book on contemporary haiku. It's fair to think that she felt this collection to be her finest work in a modern English take on an ancient Japanese art form.

Ivette's desktop in our 3rd Irish residence in County Clare whence we left for Germany where she passed away. But all of her later work was done here.

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peony petals –
a tarnished Buddha
pierces the dark		 *
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days of winter-lit rooms
mellow the glow
of shoji		 *
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bowls of black lacquer
full of white miso –
a call to pause		 *
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sunlight
where shadows appear
only to disappear
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in this innermost room
gone is the noise
of silence		 brass bowl;
stealing a glint of gold
from darkness		 under a crescent moon,
breaking ground
purple of an Iris		 cast-iron teapot
the hidden smell
of autumn rain
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seeking warmth by
lamplight, I hold
hands with ghosts		 through the emptiness
of corridors, song
of a two-string samisen		 blackened teeth…
her smile
now part of the shadows		 visible darkness –
forms take shape
in shades of grey
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when does a cloud
become a person,
where does the sky end?		 haunted house,
the clack-clack
of wooden slippers fades		 summer's end –
a longing to
hibernate the soul		 a lover's  tiff –
something to remember
me by
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from starlight
to daylight
a butterfly		 spellbound –
stealing kisses
under Mistletoe		 in this mirror-like pond
the moon
without me		 lost sheep
not knowing
the calligraphy of trees
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from pine cone
to pinecone
slips a snowdrop		 *
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beachcomber
still listening to the ocean
from a Conch shell		 *
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cutting a ripe pear
noticing my happiness
cutting a ripe pear		 *
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all that remains
of the Tears of God
written in her branches
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breathing
the sound of sleep
I turn and wake him		 dead weight…
by evening's glow
Mockingbirds peck out the eyes		 floating in a sunbeam
dust from a moth's wing
yesterday's rain		 between heaven and earth
the busyness of ravens
deshelling seeds
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lonesome dove
who says
you fly alone?		 sitting in zazen
only to sit in zazen
feeling the hard floor		 on the waterfront –
hailstorm with lightning
strikes sand		 cosmic stars
from the edge of a quarter moon
hangs heaven
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4am
mountain cloud cover –
sounds from a floating world		 from a rosebud
its flower sprawls
in the rain		 crows the black of blackberries
shape-shift through
the night		 October moon
shadowing the limbs
of a gnarly pine
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lake view,
spreading their wings
a crane and her shadow
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