our universe
This was an entry for an international haibun contest in 2018. No, this haibun didn't win anything. I thought it was pretty well written and would like to share it again here. On hindsight, I think there was no seasonal word in the haiku part of the poem.
photo by Paulina Milde Jachowska at Unsplash
our universe
After we have packed our hammers and saws and nails in the toolshed, and our daily wages have been tallied and registered by our foreman, we gather outside the doorway for a final smoke. Someone lights some incense to the earth god, giving thanks for another safe day. Another feeds the black guard dog, stroking its beastly head as it eats hungrily from a dirty dish.
It is mostly like this, the end of another day, the smell of sawn wood still clinging to us like a scab. Sometimes we drink some tea, over a stove fire, like our forefathers did, building railroads and harbours in America and Hong Kong, half a lifetime away from home. The red glows of our cigarette tips flare, taunting the stars that are coming out in the gathering darkness, over the bulky silhouettes of the unfinished buildings behind us.
We stub out our cigarettes, grunt some goodbyes and jibes, and start our trucks and motor bikes, for the journey home, the tires churning out a cloud of dust on the unpaved roads. Tomorrow we will be here again, the dog's barks, loud in the early light blues of our universe.
dusk descends
the cirrus clouds sing
of a flat earth
13/01/2018
**********
Huang Jia Mei (黄家美) -- 爱拼才会赢
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025
our universe
After we have packed our hammers and saws and nails in the toolshed, and our daily wages have been tallied and registered by our foreman, we gather outside the doorway for a final smoke. Someone lights some incense to the earth god, giving thanks for another safe day. Another feeds the black guard dog, stroking its beastly head as it eats hungrily from a dirty dish.
It is mostly like this, the end of another day, the smell of sawn wood still clinging to us like a scab. Sometimes we drink some tea, over a stove fire, like our forefathers did, building railroads and harbours in America and Hong Kong, half a lifetime away from home. The red glows of our cigarette tips flare, taunting the stars that are coming out in the gathering darkness, over the bulky silhouettes of the unfinished buildings behind us.
We stub out our cigarettes, grunt some goodbyes and jibes, and start our trucks and motor bikes, for the journey home, the tires churning out a cloud of dust on the unpaved roads. Tomorrow we will be here again, the dog's barks, loud in the early light blues of our universe.
dusk descends
the cirrus clouds sing
of a flat earth
13/01/2018
**********
Huang Jia Mei (黄家美) -- 爱拼才会赢
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2025
posted by dsnake1 at 12:28 AM
8 Comments:
.You have captured the unrelenting monotony of the daily grind yet a camaraderie exists among the workers. Good one. I just read your interview with Sherry. Gosh we have been at this for a long time:)
Maybe no seasonal word, but I like your haiku - very visual.
I was right there with every sensation and detail.
I love this so much! The contest must have had a very high standard of entries — or the judges were fools. You create a vivid scene, outside my own experience(and therefore very interesting).
Rall,
Thank you!
I once worked with my father on some construction work in some rural area. These are some recollections of that time.
Yes, we have been at this for a long time. I started this blog twenty years ago. When the internet is still quite young. :D
Brother Ollie,
Thank you, bro! :)
Colleen,
Thank you!
Glad you enjoyed the poem. :)
Rosemary,
Thank you!
Yes, the entries were from all over the world. I have no quarrels with the winning poems. They were very good.
As I told Rall, these are recollections of the time I was working with my dad in the construction industry.
Brother Ollie is right! There is so much here in both the imagery and feel of the piece. I appreciated it.
Thank you, Rommy! :)
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