dVerse Poetics: The Smell of Chrysanthemums

Today Kim is prompting for dVerse Poetics: Autumn. I never get enough of autumn. Come join us and read. https://dversepoets.com/2017/10/17/poetics-the-smell-of-chrysanthemums/ This is also posted for Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-tuesday-platform_17.html

Silence of autumn
I sit on my back porch steps –
Autumn is silent this year –
insects are quiet at night –
The moon is a thin s(l)hiver
in the black sky.
I smell autumn coming –
I see autumn coming –
but this year
autumn is silent.
Golden leaves among the green
drop to the ground – dead
from a dry spring and summer.
Autumn is silent this year.
The first frost is not yet singing –
It waits in the clouds
for a cold dark night.
Autumn is silent.
Too many losses –
Too many tears.
The moon is a thin s(h)liver
in the black sky.
Autumn is silent this year.
My mother loved chrysanthemums.

Real Toads: Strange Fish

This is for Real Toads weekend challenge – a photo by Hedgewitch which she asks us to write to. I am also posting for Poets United Poetry Pantry. Toads:  http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/10/camera-flash.htmlp Poets United link: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/10/poetry-pantry-374.html

Strange Fish
He jumped from the Putney bridge in the winter of 1890.
He drowned. Within a few days his body filled with gas
And rose to the top of the water,
Bumping and bobbing its way along,
caught in the current of the Thames.
It went through the city
past pastures, villages –
After a few days it was finally spotted
by a small child who ran to her mum.
Her mum ran to the local bailiff
Who in turn called out the able bodied men
who formed a line on the shore of the river
and dragged him ashore.
Not a pretty picture by this time.
They shook their heads over the
poor young lad come to no good
and wondered if he was pushed,
If he was drunk and fell in,
oa if it was suicide.
They decided on the lesser of the causes
And buried him an unknown drunk in the church yard.
If it had been suicide, he would not have been
buried in the church yard.
As a murder victim he would have to be investigated
by somebody or other.
They put a small stone on his grave
and the date they pulled him from the river.
The local stonemason carved
“The Lord giveth and taketh away”
In his pockets was a washed away picture,
a few shillings and pennies
and a sodden handkerchief
with the initials TLB embroidered upon it.

Poets United: Midweek Motif

I have been out of the poetry rounds for several weeks due to problems with my eyes.  The MD has cleared me and I am back on the circuits again.  This is about a stray tuxedo tom who I began feeding a couple of autumns ago.  I didn’t want to love him, I just wanted to feed him.  But I fell in love of course.  I called him Nobody’s Cat.  I am posting this for Poets United Mid-week Motif on animals.  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/10/poets-united-midweek-motif-animals.html

The Potting Shed

The old potting shed is slowly returning to the earth
settling down on its crumbling stone foundations,
roof slates cracked or missing,
paint fading and flaking.
The fact remains that underneath
Nobody’s Cat burrowed in during the last snow
And died.
Daffodils’ green spears are thick and lush
around the perimeter of the old building.
the flowers stand like mourners
around a grave
as the sun slowly sets
in an explosion of
saffron ginger turmeric curry –
spiced winter day
ends in a flurry of last
waves of goodbye

 

 

Poets United: Memories

This is posted for the Mid-Week prompt at Poets United – Memories. I am posting three haiku for this. The third was writing in loving memory of my friend Peggie who died two years ago.  They are written in the Japanese spirit of mono no aware (sadness at the passing of things) and aware cho (the deep sigh at the end of something)  Link at Poets United:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/09/poets-united-midweek-motif-memories.html I am also linking this up to my favorite poetry site, dVerse.

copyright Kanzensakura

I.
memories falling
as autumn leaves – dying in
flames blown by the wind

II.
sleepy woodland pool –
leaves drift on surface dreaming
of past summer sun

III.
summer night is long –
dew falls but fades at morning –
grasses remember

 

 

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

Tsunami: One year anniversary March 11, 2012

This is greatly condensed down from a section of poetry based on the friendship of a Japanese engineer who was transferred by the company who owned the Fukushima power plant to a company in the US. I am posting this for Gillena’s prompt at: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/  “Hi toads, today i want you to stretch your imagination; ponder a natural disaster, past or recent, and tell me, what role you think, the gods might be playing, resulting in that particular natural disaster.” This is a small section of a poem I have been working on for several years – The Walk – parts I – VIII. He and I became friends while I was reviewing his application for licensure in the US as a professional engineer. He explained to me that much of the physical documentation was destroyed and people who acted as references and verifiers of his experience were dead.  He was in Tokyo at the time of the tsunami on business.  I am writing in haibun form.

free public domain photo – Japan Tsunami

Tsunami: One year later March 11, 2012. section of The Walk Part IV
Susanoo-no-Mikoto* was in a rage the day of the tsunami. He swept before him adults and children, pets, wild creatures, graves of the beloved dead, altars, homes – all washed away like so much trash into a gutter. My friend and I walked that anniversary to our place by the peaceful pond. I handed him a stick of incense. He lit the incense and wept beneath the cherry trees, far from home and dead family and friends.

the sea inhaled then
exhaled a giant wall of
water – spring was drowned

copyright kanzensakura

*Japanese god of the sea, storms, and snakes

dVerse Poetics: The End

Today at dVerse Paul is giving the prompt for us. His theme is “The End” – end of life, end of love, end of the world, the Last Samurai – The End.  http://dversepoets.com/2017/08/01/the-end/   Come visit us and read the poems inspired by The End. This is also being posted for the Tuesday Open Forum at Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform.html

The End
Life is never promised.
someday, we will pass through time –
the world just stops under silent control.

On the platform where trains never come
this reality, faintly shining –
Like leaves blowing in the wind –
at the crossing, crowded with figures
this reality, faintly shining –
Pushing aside the veil of the world,
the truth is always a paradox.

As this era comes to its end,
we’ll wake up from our slumber.
Both profound darkness and
the light of hope lurk inside us.
As the curtain is being raised for another era,
we’ll cross the bridge of this spotless world.

On the platform where trains never come
this reality, faintly shining.

 

public domain photo

 

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