It is Haibun Monday at d’Verse Poet’s Pub. Imelda is the publican that waits on us this evening and her prompt is…. waiting.
In another place it might be impassive but here its round face is cruel, returning its captives’ furtive glances with a cold unblinking stare. The constant television, flickering noise and light, cannot compete with the steady heartbeat of this clock on the wall. It is this metronomic ticking that gives it authority even over their phones, clutched tight like talismans in each worried pair of fidgeting hands while its steady hands mark time. They wait, uncertain, alone in a waiting room full of people. They each await their prognosis, wishing to turn the clock ahead, wishing to turn it back.
Autumned grass tufts sweep
Circular tracks in the snow
Roots remember spring
ShiftnShake 
the television and the ticking clock, a means of distraction and reminder that it will soon come to pass, both instruments you work so well into the haibun to emphasize waiting
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Thank you.
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Strong piece, well written!
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Thanks!
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I like the juxtaposition between fidgeting hands of those waiting and the steady hands of the clock. Nicely done.
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Thanks. I appreciate you coming by.
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Oh, that’s good. I can hear the wind blowing through your haiku, and the tension in your prose. That push and pull of wanting time to speed up and slow down, both at once. How funny that our haikus both centre on winter grass as well. The poetry lines were crackling tonight!
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Thanks. Yes, we went in a similar path with even similar details!
I appreciate the visit and comment.
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They each await their prognosis, wishing to turn the clock ahead, wishing to turn it back. – Ain’t that the truth?
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Yep.
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dark but real
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Yep. Thanks for coming by.
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I like how you have pulled out the flickering light, metronomic ticking and fluttering hands…a surreal scene I certainly recognize (and wish to avoid).
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It is kinda surreal- every time. And then there’s the levels of waiting rooms; the one where everyone is sitting around in their johnnies is actually more relaxed. Must be the casual attire, or that everyone there is in the know and in a similar situation.
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I’d rather remember spring than push the clock forward or back. Too bad it can’t move in some third direction.
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Maybe it can. Maybe that’s a prompt?
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Your haibun conveys so much emotion – ahony, uncertainty, hope. Your haiku echoes both helplessness and hope, and even leans more towards hope as the last line suggests.
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Hello, thank you for coming by and checking on your fine prompt. Ya always have to lean towards hope. I’m glad you got that out of that little haiku.
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The tension of waiting in that room can be agonizing. We all wish we can move time ahead or wishing it back. I specially admire: Roots remember spring.
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Yep, there can be some tension. Some folks in waiting rooms are wound up like a clock.
Thank you for the visit and comment.
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The waiting room… a place of fear and terror… and you know the time to go faster or backward… instead it crawls…
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