“Haiku” jottings from Bhutan.
When I lead writing journeys I don’t have much time to write, but like to keep a small notebook in my pocket for haiku-like jottings such as these made in Pobjikha Valley:
thunderclap at the pee stop
prayer flags
shudder
Mist rolls down Pobjikha Valley
in the guesthouse car park
guides in their gohs
tell road widening stories
mountain winds
bone-white and tall
flags for the dead
In the blue pine forest
we find:
1.old man’s beard
2.peace
A cone shaped hill
of cone shaped pines
I forgot to wear
my cone shaped hat
Wall builders in no hurry
move
one
slow
rock
at a time
Taking a break from cement mixing
the Indian worker taps his foot to a wild flutey tune
his friend throws rocks at crows
Another ferocious thunderclap
as if recalling a past insult
the valley changes mood
Rain comes
dampening
tomorrow’s trail
The Korean guests leave,
loudly
Clouds hang around the mountain tops
smothering the blue pines
in wet kisses
Crows on a shingle roof
caw in unison
below,
a black dog sniffs the air
Looking back
the stupa they circumambulated
so small
watching over potato fields
an Aladdin’s cave of buddhas, taras and flaming deities
At night her head hurts
her stomach aches, she wonders why she came
By day says
“she wouldn’t have missed it for quids”
To rest forever in this view….
A child monk in a dark corner
waits to offer holy water
his smile
A rainbow streaks across the valley
gone
The mountain ambulance — always busy
you can see its red light flashing
Babies in no hurry to arrive
may find themselves birthed
on a bump
Karma is with us today
its blue bus tarp,
the colour of
all pervading space
© Jan Cornall 2016
www.writersjourney.com.au
