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Renga

@renga

my reading list of lyrical microblogs, and some playful phrasings i want to remember - @WriterToGo

 Hearth Hill, WV
Renga.Mykl.org
Joined December 2007
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Photo by Renga (@renga)Photo by Renga (@renga)
"All the dreams you show up in are not your own."
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#tanka #5lines April moon a restless river sings a song it learned from a thousand mountain streams #NPRpoetry @npratc
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after the rain the full moon sheds its skin --Takada Rozan (1956-2013) 雨上がりの満月が脱皮している　高田弄山 #haiku #freeformhaiku #translation
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At today's waking light i never stopped to write just puttered about in haste never pausing to chase any fleeting recollection no nocturnal detection stumbling toward okay facing the fresh born day until with coffee hot morning dream's forgot.
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seven turtles sunning on a log-- called in sick today #senryu
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"Crows scatter like memories in the snow." - Anne Sampson facebook.com/anne.sampson.10…
Image from Renga (@renga)
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#overheard: "These mountains older than bones"
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the rain & mist of winter born rinse once vibrant the highland ridge sluicing umber down rill & bourn overflowing past the bridge this frothing ale through creek & brook floods the dale where branches shook swelling that river who flows into sea exacting a shiver too far from me
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Compar'd to these stormes, death is but a qualme, Hell somewhat lightsome, and the'Bermuda calme. - John Donne, "The Storme" gutenberg.org/files/48688/48…
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fragrant blossoms rain snowy naiveté from the old tree - @MYKLiAM
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where greening forests caress the river silent now find us dancing.
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My mother is soil A warm brook and vengeful wind And I have her smile - @MissHanniRose woobox.com/w2q2em/gallery/Ol…
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each seed treasure, atop fresh snow.
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fresh snow silhouetting birds vivid: golden finches, cardinals red.
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"Amidst life and death, Snow continues to fall." Santoka (images: Shotei Takahashi)
Image from Kazuko M. (@EstherHawdon)
Image from Kazuko M. (@EstherHawdon)
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“no friends but the mountains”
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The world was a bit of a rock tumbler, he found. It spun and battered away at him, grinding away the rough edges. Eventually spitting him out, shiny and polished. And somehow smaller.
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dusk crawls across the field crickets -Mary Jo Balistreri tinywords.com/?p=29957
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I remember, as a child, disappearing into the night sky, but I don't remember ever coming back
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"his head of stopped fire" - Lola Haskins adirondackreview.homestead.c…
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