PHOTO RENGA. THIS IS A CALL AND RESPONSE POEM. IN EACH ITERATION NAOMI AND I SEND EACH OTHER A NEW HAIKU AND A PHOTOGRAPH. IN TRADITIONAL RENGA THE LINKING TEXT IS TWO SEVEN SYLLABLE LINES - HERE WE USE OUR PHOTOS INSTEAD. AS I INVITED NAOMI TO COLLABORATE WITH ME ON THIS, IT'S ALSO TRADITIONAL FOR ME TO START THE RENGA. THIS RENGA READS BACKWARDS ...SO IF YOU WANT THE FULL NARRATIVE START AT THE FOOT AND READ UP. OTHERWISE SCROLL DOWN...

Painted walls tell us

these sharp colours will beckon

daffodil, crocus.

Numbered paragraphs

illustrate simplicty;

joy of making dough.

Two circles, some squares.

Jasmine floats over roses

in the back garden.

Geometry rules

the stairway. An open door

is bold as sunshine.

A shaft of sunlight

brightens the darkest corner.

What looks soft is hard.

Heat and light reveal

hard edges of weather-worn

aging paving stones.

Clouds breed like rabbits

as the ground drys and hardens

cracks start to appear.

Everything has

its season. Dying roses

mimic cumuli.

Look up to catch luck

as it showers down unseen

but all embracing.

A heavy sky lives

in pond water. Thumb sized frogs

wait for a downpour.

Even a dead tree

has a purpose: as a host

for new leaves, regrowth.

Clouds scud without thought

landing on those that will last

just a short season.

Although delicate

the poppy petals hang on

as wind sweeps through corn.

A piercing of red

shoots through the green, pepper-hot

petals make their mark.

Above the beet field

clouds muscle in on blue sky.

Underfoot: cracked earth.

In a courtyard an

enamel bath sits and waits

for the Summer rain.

Uninterrupted

the scenery says its piece

to the croquet lawn.

The heat’s everywhere -

flames licking the air, the sun

returning their touch.

The gerberas look

up to the sun, are shocked

to find only one.

Over cups of tea

we look at the stars, but can’t

predict the winner.

An open goal leads

to quieter streets and pubs.

On one side blue sky.

An open door leads

on to heat and light, green leaves -

a rose petal falls.

A helicopter

flies overhead as dogs bark

and a Hoover dies.

Red and yellow ducks,

sitting pretty, pose for snaps

and ignore the heat.

A new day bristles

as the green parakeets screech.

With the heat comes dust.

Nightfall – lovers find

their comfort in marble wings,

the sky darkening.

A crush of petals

balanced on a single stem.

Night takes hours to fall.

This bright yellow smile

rules my kitchen. Cut flowers

know their time is short.

Roots swim up for air,

shoot leaves lighter than water.

A flower opens.

Crab claw, nettle sting -

spiked and sea-tossed, gaze skywards

to the scattered stars.

The sun continues

while white clouds float out to sea.

The beach is empty.

The ideas are coming together.  I took Karen’s hawk photos as a starting point – I really want to work in the yellow of the hawk’s talons as a counterpoint to the calmer colours – and I found a feather at my allotment, and some more in a box when I was sourcing objects for another project. Scanned and solarised, they become something alien and unworldly.

I often work from photographs, so I took my camera to the Poetry Gazebo festival in Culpeper Community Gardens. I like the ‘hidden’ connections that are gathering in the print, with colours drawn from an event organised by Naomi Woddis, another Open Notebooks guest booker, and Karen reading her Wing poem as I took pictures of the greenness all around.  Next I searched my photo archives for images of leaves, water and wings. All these images are spread around me as I work on the colour sketches.

I was fascinated by the shape of Karen’s drafts for her own hawk poem; I hope to incorporate the form of her handwritten notes into the final print.

As the white boat glides
along the wide brown river
bare branches shiver.

A trumpet, a train, a gull.
In the distance a footbridge.

Pinpricks of snow fall
on the abandoned roadworks.
The pavement is cold.

Tomorrow oysters, people
and the clink of champagne flutes.

The recollection
of Christmas is distant, caught
between seasons, waiting.

Today a sharp Winter sun,
a hint of what’s to come – warmth.