I’m excited to announce a new venture of mine, grounded in two of my passions: poetry and photography. It’s Haiku Austin — a poetic, pictorial ode to all things ATX — and it’ll be published in late April/early May.
Having recently been “made redundant” at work, I’m happy to take this opportunity to dive into this passion project head first. In a few days, i’m launching a Kickstarter to pay for the printing costs. I hope you’ll check it out and consider backing it. In the meantime, if you like what you see here (you don’t have to be an Austinite to appreciate cool pics & fun poems, after all) then go to the site and get yourself on the email list.
I’m sending out fresh little haiku every now and then, along with updates on the Kickstarter and the book’s printing. Feel free to follow along on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, too. The more the merrier!
I’ll still keep writing my Well-Versed Mom blog, as inspiration strikes.
Go ahead, check out Haiku Austin, and (as always) thank you for your encouragement and support.
SORRY NOT SORRY
So satisfying, the smashing
the grab, the throw
plate cracked against floor
white chips like exclamation points
So satisfying, the swearing
the sound, the fury
guttural and careless
crashing through the room
blasting through screens into street
I swept up bitter shards
offered a soft apology
so satisfying, the finding
one secret sliver
lit by innocent sunbeam
because it was my plate, and I was very angry
©2016 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
“I need to show you something.”
His father started in to the kitchen
and the screen door slapped hard
and before he could think to wonder what
the man was back with him in the yard,
thin red fire extinguisher in hand.
“See, you pull out the pin
and squeeze this and then–”
The can kicked
and spurted an illustration,
a plume of powder in the June air.
And suddenly the sleek metal
was heavy and cool against his eager fingers,
his mind burning little wildfires of protest
but also a desire to please
and please let me pass this test.
He steeled himself for the release
and tightened his hold,
so caught up in questions
and a boy’s quest to be bold
that he neglected to aim the nozzle
some place other than
his mother’s garden.
The screen door slammed a second time
and she was at his side,
in her survey of the damage:
the layer of ash on asters, dust covering the cosmos.
All three stood there staring
until the boy broke into a run
and got the green hose
and again sprayed into the sun,
the stream pushing away the gray layer
and popping off a flower head or two —
a small price to pay
for saving the day.
©2015 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz