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Posts Tagged ‘Haiku’

 

“There is no poetry for the practical man. There is poetry only for the mankind of the man who spends a certain amount of his life turning the mechanical wheel. But let him spend too much of his life at the mechanics of practicality and either he must become something less than a man, or his very mechanical efficiency will become impaired by the frustrations stored up in his irrational human personality.
An ulcer, gentlemen, is an unkissed imagination taking its revenge for having been jilted. It is an unwritten poem, a neglected music, an unpainted water color, an undanced dance. It is a declaration from the mankind of the man that a clear spring of joy has not been tapped, and that it must break through, muddily, on its own.”
– John Ciardi

 

“Poems are not written to sing of the moon and flowers; they must speak of our hearts in response to the moon and flowers. We must never forget that in our hearts are the seeds of our poems. If we merely speak of the moon and flowers, poems become simply poetical forms, whatever the human heart may be. If these things become a part of ourselves, then we may admire them in verse.”
– Okuman Kotomichi
19th century

 

“A haiku . . . is a hand beckoning, a door half-opened, a mirror wiped clean. It is a way of returning to nature, to our moon nature, our cherry blossom nature, our falling leaf nature, in short, to our Buddha nature. It is a way in which the cold winter rain, the swallows of evening, even the very day in its hotness, and the length of the night become truly alive, share in our humanity, speak their own silent and expressive language.”

— R. H. Blyth, Haiku, Volume 1, page 243

 

 

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hibiscus 1

 

Hawaiian style morn

Seven blooms on the 5th day.

If only twas May.

8-5-17

Sacramento, CA

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Papaya haiku

chameleon-papaya

 

Ah Chameleon

You turn the ordinary

Into a haiku.

 

How can a lizard

Create such pure elegance

On  a papaya?

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There will be no haiku poems on Trump for the next four years in respect for Basho, Issa, and all the Japanese haiku poets who found beauty, elegance, inspiration, meaning and simple joy in nature, people and our universe and who sought and found the most select language ever available to share this with us. But…I will still write non-haiku, loosely written verses:

Trump

The gigantic kite soars

Toward the hot orange sun

Deaf to voices from Icarus’ flight,

He hurtles down and buries

The country in black ash.

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WW in Tokyo

Thank you Susan Branz, for this photo of Nozomi Hotta and Wordsworth in Tokyo.
Nozomi-san, domo arigato. Here are some fast haiku written over breakfast this morning:

The rising sun glows.
Aloha. Konnichiwa.
Needs no translation.
frances

Nozomi-sanma
Will I become Japanese
In a yukata?
frances

Wordsworth’s images
Transform into black kanji
Over coke on ice.
frances

Page turns in light breeze
Wordsworth lands on Edo shores
Bright flash! Peace begins.
red

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asagao ya ah, asagao ya, ahhhh asagao ya

asagao ya
ah, asagao ya, ahhhh
asagao ya

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Cherry blossoms fall,

Break stillness of early morn.

Red koi surfaces.

****

Steam from my green tea

Disappears into pink clouds

Cherry blossom day.

***

Giant ikebana

Showers  me with  sweet rain.

Ah, it must be Spring.

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