What is enough time

flowing from dark to darkness

days or years away


a butterfly…

needs no answers

to flutter


lady bugs

their lives passing by

on my window sill



living like a butterfly

each moment is enough


©2018 Ontheland


My reflections are in response to Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #25: Use that Quote. Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) is a celebrated Indian poet who won a Nobel Prize for Literature in recognition of his work “Gitanjali” —he wrote it in Bengali and then translated it into English. The 1913 English translation includes an introduction by W.B. Yeats.



concealed, then
in the feline stealth of time
mountains grow from dust


©2018 Ontheland

Amaya at dVerse has challenged us to write a shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5 syllables) with hints of shadow, mist, enigma. I wrote this gazing at the sunset, first thinking about the tunnels under Rome where they discovered all kinds of refuse, and then about other dumps and secret disposals large and small.

The photo is in the public domain, courtesy of Pixabay.com (search ‘hidden’).


distances stretch in outer space,

galaxies drift beyond detection,

ocean tides swell and join the shore,

the Now once known slips away.

Watchers mourn and some agree 

all that is here transforms history.


©2017 Ontheland



  white moth flutters            white moth flutters
    a fleeting visitor              ephemeral 
      to this meadow                   as am I

                 white moths flit
                   in a splash of sunlight---
                     who else has passed this way?

Inspired by a moment of perception and thought, I wrote the first haiku.  Then I wrote two more looking for other words to bring readers closer to where I was.  I was thinking of Chèvrefeuille’s invitation to write and then consider possible meanings a reader might take away. This process might have resulted in my choosing one favourite wording, but in this case I liked something about each haiku.  This is my second response to Carpe Diem Writing and Enjoying Haiku #4.  (Best way to read this post on a phone is to turn the phone sideways.)


©2017 Ontheland


We were moving forward 

on an upward path 

or so we thought

until time’s accordion opened,

suddenly as clouds part

to show the blazing sun.

Music of then became now and

forgotten strains swelled.

Not long ago 

in grandmothers’ time 

women raged

for their right

to vote.

Now their cries pierce through

billowing dust as

lost stories dance

from unlocked folds and

tales of exclusion

thought long banished,

(yet only a century old),

rumble from pursed lips.

Just so, ballads of millennia

tumble from a land 


one hundred (and fifty) years.

Linear myths shatter

while expanding worlds swirl 

time reveals its nature.


©2017 Ontheland