The Window

Why the window? Good question,that. Why choose “The Window” as a name for my website? Windows it seems, are important to people. We need them. We need light and air in our homes. We need to see. The view out our windows is important. Some people build their homes based on the view out the windows. Did you know that there is a list on the website “Ranker” of 50+ movies with the word “window” in the title? And another list of 50+ song titles. What is it about windows that we find so important, so intriguing? If you do a web search of windows you’ll find tons of information, as you will for nearly everything, but interestingly, the window has been used as metaphor more often than most other things. Why is this, do you think?

“The eyes are the window of the soul,” “A window to another world.” These sayings and more all encompass the window as a gateway of sorts. Windows can also be thought of as dividers or barriers to whatever is on the other side. Like a skin you can see through. Open that window, and you let in whatever is out there. Safety perhaps; a closed window keeps out the storm. Or a means of escape; climbing through the window to freedom, or love, or mystery. From, “The Raven,” by Edgar Allen Poe: “Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore” The window, as a metaphor has been used for countless reasons. A window into the mind is a metaphor for seeing or perceiving someone’s thoughts, emotions or motives. Looking, seeing, perceiving. All use the window as a device.

I have used the window in more than a few of my poems and stories. A quick search of the website shows 56 posts with the word, “window” in them. Some of it was metaphor, some not. For whatever the reasons, we seem to like the image of a window. Either an actual window, or the image that it portrays, the meaning behind it, what it stands for.

So those are the reasons for using the window as the name of this blog. Those and others I can’t even think of. I’ve had great conversations through windows. I’ve yelled in anger, out of them. I’ve climbed in through windows and snuck out of them. I have dumped dish water out a window and emptied a chamber pot as well. I have let in the breeze and the rain. I have stuck my head and torso out a window in a raging storm. The window is a metaphor for so many things that it just seemed the perfect vehicle for the blog. I’ve written about so many subjects that any other name would have been inadequate. When you read this blog you’re opening a window. You never know what you’ll let inside.


Painting The Sky… Still More Haiku

haiku image
It has been a while since I posted haiku. I’ve been working on them steadily, posting them to Twitter and now, with some editing, they are here for your enjoyment. If you are unfamiliar with haiku, it all started in Japan. And there are rules to writing haiku, all of which I have broken. But it’s fun to write such a short poem while trying to confine it to the rules. I won’t go into all of them here but I’ll leave you this link to an article that explains it quite well. In reading and studying haiku I have found that rule breaking seems to be the norm for Western writers so I fit right in. Enjoy!
haiku in japanese characters

the old man’s eyes
tell a tale of lost love
mostly forgotten

painting the sky
my brush across the canvas
is blue today

a misty morning
shadows glide across the sky
birds in quiet flight
misty morning birds

perchance to grasp
golden drops of the sun
in a deep winter

lightning brings
the sound of thunder
summer storm

wet green fields
a light breeze
summer rain

mist over the fields
early morning sun
burns it away

forty shades of green
too much rain
the hay grows long

sunlight reflects
on ruffled water
wind in the trees

roosting in trees
web footed pelicans
water birds

stormy sky
rain and wind
natural beauty
stormy sky

geese fly above
with long shadows
upon the ground

wind blown trees
rippled water
all is well

black crows
against gray skies
thoughts roaming free

robin on a fence
announcing his opinion
to the world

rain falls
like tears
from a lonely sky

an eagle soars
to great heights
becomes the sky

trees waving
in high winds
stories to tell

meteor streaking
across the sky
a fond farewell

wind in the trees
speaks of things
better left unsaid

ancient willows
tossing out ideas
born on the wind

rain on the pavement
filling cracks

bare trees
grandfather’s ancient hands
reach for the sky