dVerse Poetics: Metaphor

This is for dVerse Poetics hosted today by Bjorn. He wants us to use metaphors in our writing. I don’t know if I came close. I’m used to writing “direct poetry” – no hidden meanings or agendas. So I wrote about an old lover.
I hope I did okay! I don’t know about obvious metaphors.


The Black Dragon (kokuryūkai)

I was told long ago: Never look into the eyes of a dragon –
His gaze will capture you and you will be lost.
But I looked too long into his whirling eyes.
Brown, liquid and disturbingly male.
His eyes lifted and trapped mine.
There was about him a wildness,
a smell of cold fresh water rushing over rocks.
There was about him a heat, the skin of a dragon
encapsulating an inner eternal fire –
a wisdom of ages, of trees, of endless sky –
a loneliness about him, a dragon curled
about a red ruby heart in the depths of a faraway cave –
he had the strength of a dragon lifting his wings upward
and flying beyond the sun –
And the infinite sadness of cherry blossoms killed by frost.
I could only stand and watch as he flew back to his mountain.

 

 

image from pixabay

The Notes: You can always tell a Japanese dragon from a Chinese or Korean dragon in paintings and tattoos – the Japanese dragon will always have only three toes/claws per appendage making a total of 12. The dragons are given different colors for obvious reasons. Each color has their own powers: Black dragons are children of a thousand-year-old dragon that is black-gold. They are symbols of the North. They are the most solitary of all the dragons and also, fly the highest and sometimes mated with humans. They caused storms by battling in the air. Blue dragons are children of blue-gold dragons that are eight hundred years old. They are purest in blue colors, the sign of the coming spring and the symbol of the East. Yellow dragons are born from yellow-gold dragons who are one thousand years old or older. They appear at ‘the perfect moment’ and at all other times remain hidden. Yellow dragons are also the most revered of the dragons. Yellow dragons also sometimes mated with humans.  White dragons come from white-gold dragons of a thousand years of age. They symbolize the South. White is the Asian color of mourning, and these dragons are a sign of death.

dVerse Poetics: Rain rein reign

Today Lillian is hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub. She is asking that we rain on, rein in, reign over…just don’t rain on her parade! No doom and gloom, no politics, no naysayers – sounds like a plan to me! The Pub opens at 3:00 pm EST. Bring your best umbrella, your best scepter, your best horse!

Lovely Day
I remember when I was a little girl –
but then I’ve always been little –
Dancing on our front porch while
the rain came down.
Isn’t it a lovely day….
Spring rain happy,
summer rain quick,
autumn rain melancholy,
winter rain snowy…
I was by turns Fred Astaire
and then I was Ginger Rogers.
Dancing on the walkway in front of the house,
Dancing on the walkway around the house,
Dancing dancing dancing.
I remember taking you out into the rain
and dancing –
You threw back your head and laughed.
You had never danced in the rain before.
Like a summer rain you came and went.

I still dance in the rain.
I wear Wellies now –
Hello Kitty!

public domain photo

dVerse Poetics: Magic

Today Paul Scribbles is prompting our Poetics at dVerse.  He is asking us to write about magic. Magical, magician, magic in all its forms and permutations. And so, I did!

Sweet Magic
the door to another universe opened
and he walked out –
his hair in a warrior’s knot
and wearing a black on black silk hakama
and wide shouldered black kataginu
embroidered with cherry blossoms – black on black.
he told me later he wore all black for
martial arts demoonstrations.
he carried daisho – katana and wakizashi and
on his right hip he wore the tanto – dagger.
I was 25 and he was 28 and already had two Ph.D.s
He was almost through with his third.
He moved light and deadly and quick as a hawk.
Taller than your average Japanese but then,
his homeworld was the mountainous region
in Hakone. I watched him draw his katana –
one pure movement of silver and death – magic.
I was dating a jerk at the time and had gone
to the Kendo competition with the jerk.
He rescued me from the jerk and won the competition.
His voice was soft and husky
and his hands and arms were knicked and scarred –
Swords are sharp he said when he saw me looking.
I fell head over heels in love with him but…
Greater older magic was at work –
He fell in love with plain short me.
His hands were soft and sure
And his lips were full and curved.
He taught me forms and Kendo
And gave me a wakizashi because I was too short –
“Your opponent will behead you before you have your
sword half-way out.
The wakizashi’s name is Minamikaze – South Wind.
This my love will make you formidable.”
I held the wakizashi and gave it a slight swish.
He smiled. “Take your death as a given,
Accept it and you will be free to live.”
Then he smiled and sang to me
holding me close:
“All our times have come
Here but now they’re gone
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are
Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper*”
I took the leap. Down the rabbit hole.
Magic.
Pure sweet magic.

old snapshot taken in Duke U Medical Library 1979

  • Don’t Fear the Reaper – Blue Oyster Cult

Play It Again, Toads!

This is for the prompt over at Real Toads….Play It Again, Toads! in which several archived prompts are served up to choose from. Or you can choose the “Flash 55 Prompt which occurs the first weekend of every month…”  I chose the Flash 55 prompt.  Come stroll through the garden with the Toads at:  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/09/play-it-again-toads.html I am also posting this on Poets United, Poetry Pantry: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/09/poetry-pantry-369.html

The Samurai and the Lady
He parted the silk,
traced her skin with clusters of
pink sakura. His lips
followed their trail. He
pulled flowers from the clusters,
scattering on her skin.
Teasingly he blew
them away. Here, now there, and
there. He smiled and
pulled her to him. Soft
as petals against him, he
touched her in wonder.

Hosukai wood block print

dVerse Poetics – Acrostic!

Today Frank is our Pubtender and has given us an interesting form to meet and greet – the Acrostic. I have always been intrigued with this form, reading the “mysterious” message at the side, envying those who do this form well. I fear I am not one of those but I tried! Come visit with us today at 3:00 pm EST. Pull up a chair at the Bar (after all, we are meeting it!), order something cold from the bar – we have everything from locally brewed beers to sake to lemonade – talk awhile with the denizens of this place, read some excellent poetry, and comment – PLEASE! Don’t just drop your poem and run. We are friendly folk here and all are welcome.

Beyond the Blue Horizon
Evening starts its fall with
Twilight – the sun begins its drop beyond the horizon
Ever spreading – the darkness and silence –
Release of light – release of joy, sorrow – all of it
Never saying goodbye just … until …
In an instant we all will be changed
Trusting that our passage over the skybound river
Yes, on into eternity, onward beyond the stars
will be filled with peace, joy, and reunion with those we love
cats, dogs, people…all of those we love beyond eternity.

copyright kanzensakura

 

 

dVerse Poetics – Shoes

This is written in response to Kim’s prompt for dVerse Poetics – shoes.

The things left behind
My mother’s shoes
parked under the bed where she left them
before she went into the skilled nursing facility.
I find it hard to put them away.

My father’s shoes
still new in a box but
35 years old. He never got to wear them.
I find it difficult to throw them away.

My baby shoes
bronzed, wrinkled, and tiny.
My parents loved me.
I dust them every day.

The things we leave behind
break our hearts when found.
Shoes – on the ocean floor
left behind by those who died
on the Titanic.
These things will lie entombed until the end of time.

public domain images

Quadrille Monday – Crepe Myrtle

Today Bjorn is hosting at the dVerse Pub and the word he has chosen for the quadrille prompt is “bliss” A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title. I have achieved my goad and written a haibun of 44 words!!! A haibun is an ancient Japanese poetic form that combines haiku (hai) and prose (bun). It must be factual and have actually happened to you and it must close with a haiku – another ancient Japanese poetic form consisting of 5-7-5 syllables and includes a kigo (season word as in autumn, not salt) and a kireji – a cutting word.  I am also linking this to Real Toads Tuesday Platform  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform_29.html


Crepe Myrtle

The crepe myrtle this year was spectacular, full of blissful pink flower clusters. Now at the end of summer, there are only a few bits of bloom left.

crepe myrtle blooms fall
on the lawn like faded pink
snow – summer’s ending

copyright kanzensakura

 

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