Archive for March, 2013

asleep/awake

Posted in Haiqua, Tanka with tags on March 29, 2013 by Tito

At midday
Before making an appearance
Asking for us first
To sleep in the forest –
The baby orangutan.

 …. (Tuaran, Sabah, 22.3.13)

P1190236-

Night granite slopes –
More rain on the peak
Washes down on us
A rebel waterfall.

…. (Sayat-Sayat, Mt. Kinabalu, 24.3.13)

P1190357-

Buttercup tree

Posted in Haipho, Spring, Travel on March 19, 2013 by Nori

Image

Though it was a little too late to enjoy it in full bloom, I did see deep yellow flowers looking like cups filled with melted butter or ghee.
.
バターカップの木
口紅に使われるらし
陽に溶けて

Buttercup tree
Which I hear is used for lipstick –
Melting in the sun

spring turtle

Posted in Haiku, Spring on March 15, 2013 by Gilad

First days of spring
crossing the trail with his house
a turtle

Manoa

Posted in Tanka on March 12, 2013 by Nori

Morning dew …
Its clear, transparent drops:
If only I could run
Without stepping on them
With my white shoes.

朝露の透き通る球できるれば踏まで走らん白シューズ

I ate Manoa lettuce full of dewdrops for my breakfast.

some recent stuff

Posted in Haibun on March 10, 2013 by Richard Steiner

While digging a hole in the back garden to bury some old ingots, my hoe struck a box I’d buried previously and forgotten. In it I found some things penned when I was younger, about last July. At that time, Kimiko and I were staying in a hotel on Lake Biwa to do some concentrated,  intensive resting up. The days then were overcast, grays on grays, sky, lake, land. I couldn’t help but write some haiku for the occasion.

Crushed between flowing liquid and air,
a thin line of stilled earth.

The horizon fascinated me. It was there and not there.

Gray lake, gray sky,
divided by a thin line,
figured by a gray haze. 

Part of the haze was the pollution from Otsu’s factories. Hence:

Old, vast lake, older sky, sliced apart,
a thin line of gray human noise. 

Docked below the hotel is my end-wheeler (paddle-steamer), the Michigan, a gift to Shiga Prefecture. I stood staring at it as memories of my childhood jumbled thru my skull.

A vision of Michigan
floating ‘tween sea, sky;
I longed for my home. 

Tangent:

For those of us who have lived in Kyoto longer than a tour bus ride, we recognize the early morning droning of the begging monks from one of the Zen temples that dot the city. I have made it an unvarying habit to stand in front of my home and donate coins, rice, fruit to these men when they come to my neighborhood. And they come, knowing I will be there with something. (Once, about 30 years ago, when Kimiko and I were living in this very same area, we invited the monks, four of them at that time, upstairs to have some hot coffee and chocolate.) Here are a couple of haiku about this:

Awakened by dawn’s monks’ droning,
rush to donate rice; 
my day blessed. 

And:

Shortchanged of sleep,
dawn’s droning
deserves its just reward,
handful of small change.

Enough.

Windy

Posted in Senryu, Travel on March 5, 2013 by Nori

Windy

 

Strong wind
Giving up wearing a cap
Sun-exposed face

風強し帽子諦め顔晒す

Snowflakes Wander

Posted in Event report, Renga with tags on March 3, 2013 by Tito

A shisan renku consisting of twelve verses that follow the progress of the seasons: -冬-春-夏-秋. P1190042a-The linked verse was composed on 24.2.13 in an 8-mat room upstairs at Murin-an 無鄰菴, Okazaki, Kyoto on a bitterly cold late winter day of sun and passing snow flurries. Some enjoyed a stroll around the watery, Meiji-period landscape garden we could see from the window. Twelve poets took part and most had at least one of their offered verses chosen.

Snowflakes wander …
grey down snagged on juniper
from the goshawk’s kill

With one brush stroke
the frozen river

Wide-eyed
the boatman’s monkey
chattering

Irritable lady
explains over and over again

Pink plum blossoms
bursting on the bough;
the skirt tighter this year

Rainbow-patterned curves
of painted Easter eggs

My wish to be in Hawaii
attending a wedding –
dreams come true

Sudden showers
lovers run for cover

Since the nuclear meltdown
no more swimming
in the turquoise sea

A candle burns on
changing shadows of itself

Foxes approach:
the harvest moon keeps her eyes
on the rice-cake offering

Ripened fields stretch
to the world’s end.

participants (in random order): Tito (sabaki and host), Jiko (shuhitsu), Mari Kawaguchi, David McCullough, Hitomi Suzuki, Ursula Maierl, Keiko Kurumizawa, Kyoko Nozaki, Michael Lambe, Kazuko Miyazawa, Masako Fujie and Peter MacIntosh