Obladi Oblada
Just forty-five years ago today my best friend's body was found hanging from a wooden beam in the family barn.
Paul was an innovative artist who, at eighteen years of age, began a journey along a road to his own Damascus. I can still recall the images he created with his masterful understanding of chiaroscuro; images that he destroyed on his last day.
By that time his increasingly exclusive diet of speed pills had transformed his self-perceived identity to be that of the real and fully evolved John Lennon.
advent light . . .
a pendulum of shadows
creaks through me
21st December 2013


Editor's Comments

Titles in a haibun can add so much to the richness of the piece in question. In this fine example the title takes a song from the Beatles White Album and sets the tone for the entire piece. The first line of the chorus of the song in question is: “Ob-la-di, ob-la-da life goes on brah”. That song was written by Paul McCartney, and the other Beatles hated it, and John Lennon despised it. Now comes this young man of eighteen, who sees himself as Lennon, who takes his own life, valuing it less than his ‘brah’ did. Wow, that just sent me into a tailspin. So many implications here if you have the time, or take the time. As a reader you have your work cut out for you!

Then we reach a haiku that caps the entire effort. The advent is that time of anticipation of the birth of a savior, yet prior to the birth that holds the keys to the resurrection, a rope swings and creates the moving shadows that mirror the chiaroscuro images of the artist, who has taken his own life. Indeed, this story creaks, like the beam used to end his life, through the reader as well, twisting and turning you as you connect with the story being told. If you have ever lost someone to suicide you can’t help but be taken by the skillful detail in this fine and deeply sensitive haibun.

—UHTS Haibun Editor Mike Rehling, USA

enso gap . . .
a spark leaps out of
the unseen

mating dance —
birds of paradise
square off

spider thread . . .
the shrinking tightrope
from i to thou

unrequited love —
the triangulations
of the possible

rumbling wind —
a didgeridoo wakens
to my spirit

first light —
heaven opens to me
hue by hue

night sky —
Lucy glows in the soles
of her shoes

winter gloom . . .
a bird folds into
its shadows

humid night —
an ordinary life
deeply livid

logic gate —
a cat smiles hellbent
with the moon

dawn parade —
a combed poet crows
his glory

in memory of Madiba

what wind passes through
river reeds?

the alley cat eyeing
who's on first

private concerns -
I yield to general

setting sun . . .
the lengths my shadow
will grow to

in the folds
of a road map . . .
coupling flies

laid bare
a chthonic god
wastes away

a god jumps into its conclusion

slimy pool
the reflection of me
in its source