Tuesday, October 12, 2010

For My Father


Of the yellow
in a wet fig leaf

the ear makes sound
of falling
rain


Update:
“For My Father” added to Poems, Slightly Used.

12 comments:

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

I feel there is so much love in these few words
i'm happy about

Jan said...

William these few words speak volumes of love.
I also was thinking of my dad today in my posting...

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Laura. Thank you, too, Jan. Love, yes, and memory, and longing.

Ruth said...

Music.

I'm loving your haikus. Bravo.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Ruth. Your “music” is music to my ears.

jasmin said...

lieber William, es ist so mit wenig Worten verbunden, aber die alles umfassen und nur deine Gedanken, die du fühlst in Erinnerung an deinen Vater aber die Gedanken, die jeden Tag uns begleiten,und es werden immer mehr... und ich denke es sind die kleinen Fragen, die uns an das zu Hause,an Vater und Mutter, Heimat erinnern lassen und wo man eine Antwort sucht,eine Antwort, die niemand mehr geben kann,in lieben Gedanken Jasmin...

Joseph Hutchison said...

Beautiful, amigo. A salute to all who live in the imaginal....

RUDHI - Chance said...

Painted a little fig today - listening to a little pillow-feather...lovely synchronicity!

vazambam said...

Thanks for this fine little one filled with so much imagination, William.

William Michaelian said...

Jasmin, thank you for seeing (and feeling) so much in these few words.

Joe, you always arrive with good thoughts.

Rudhi, I went to see your Harvest Moon — you have a feather-light touch.

Vassilis, you’re welcome. Thanks for having an imagination.

don't be emily said...

One of the most interesting and useless bits of information I picked up has been the fact that in our brains, the sense of smell is linked closest to, not another sense, but actually our memory. Or something like that. The result being that we have a hard time finding words to describe smells, instead we say "It reminds me of.....". Love it. :)

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Katie. Interesting, yes; useless, no. I can’t count the times I’ve been paralyzed by the arrival of a scent I could only identify through some buried memory. It’s almost as if the memory calls the scent into being.