Quadrille – The Sleeping Moon

Today is Quadrille Monday here at dVerse Poets Pub.  Mish is giving us the prompt word for today which is breath or breathe and any variants – breathtaking, breathless, breathing…A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title and must include the prompter’s choice of a word.  Come join us for some breathtaking poems that will leave you breathless.  and it doesn’t take long to read ’em. http://dversepoets.com/2016/11/21/quadrille-21-take-a-breath/

the sleeping moon
the moon breathes a sigh of relief –
it is time to go dark,
to disappear behind the clouds
to listen to the stars singing
To watch the blades of grass riffling
to hide the shells on the shore
to close her eyes and dreamless sleep

public domain photo

public domain photo

summer haiku and tanka

I.
the full moon flutters
on the surface of the pond
dancing in time to
the first song of summer sung
by a lonely cicada

II.
the summer moon bursts
from behind the clouds – startled
an owl takes flight

III.
still summer air weighs
heavy against the trees and
then the rain begins

IV.
small bell sounds like rain
in the summer dawn – birds sing
to the cobalt sky

Nights in White Satin – For 雅

I did not write this song, but I wish I did….A song from my misspent youth.  It is in my mind today.  The song was performed b the Moody Blues.  It is not printed in its entirety – only what keeps playing in my head.  The music is haunting and sometimes wistful, other times dramatic

Nights in white satin,

Never reaching the end.

Letters I’ve written, never meaning to send.

Beauty I’d always missed

With these eyes before.

Just what the truth is

I can’t say anymore.

’cause I love you. Oh how I love you.

Full Moon Madness – 01/28/13 3:00 am

I sit in my special
place on the back steps
and gaze at the moon. Light rain
coats me with icy sheen. All
I can think of, at this moment,
Is your face with the snow falling
And melting on your skin.
Lunacy.

November 6, 1987 The Braid

The night we stood on the walkway of the bridge
Looking up at the full moon.
You looked down at its reflection on the river,
And said to me, Do you want the moon?
I’ll go down, get, and bring it to you,
A double handful at a time.
I looked up into your eyes
And saw you were speaking truth.
You are all I want. You are enough.
One year ago to the day
You had looked through your men
At me and said, your hair smells of Mitsouko.
And gently touched the long braid of my hair.

Seven years later, I stand at the same place
On the walkway of the bridge, alone.
You left a year ago.

You loved my hair – thick and wavy with occasional threads of
White. Soft and fine as a silk thread you told me.
You’d bury your face in it
After you had taken off the silly
Rubber band I used to hold the end of the braid,
Or after you had pulled out one of the kanzashi
You brought me back, watching
As my hair flowed down.
“nagareochiru taki” You would whisper.
“Sono taki wa kirei desu.”

I stand now in the same place you stood.
I try to reach back to
Those years ago you offered me the moon.
I try to pull together the essence of you
Tight around me like a cocoon.
My heart seeks the smell of you:
Bee and flower sandalwood soap, surgical scrub,
The heady musk of your skin.

Only the moonless night and the green cold
Smell of the river are with me on the bridge.
I pull scissors from my bag and begin to
Cut my braid at my nape.
It still smells of Mitsouko.
I throw it down into the river.
The river swallows it and keeps
Its secrets.

Dawn Moon – October 31

Perfect pearl set in
Dawn clouds. Golden chains hold and
display pure white round.

Night sky fades. Only
the pearl moon is left from the
strand of diamonds.

Aqua chiffon sky
behind Akoya moon. Pink
scarf flutters, undulates.

The Perfect Cherry Blossom

To the Japanese, the cherry blossom is a symbol of the ephemeral – a bud that turns into a beautiful flower and then quickly fades and the petals drop to the ground, often the same day. They are reminded that such beauty is not lasting and the beauty only remains in the memory.  It is a philosophy that permeates their culture:  Beauty that that is one blink away from perfection, a life that is one breath away from death, love that is one kiss away from fulfillment, joy that is one heartbeat away from sorrow. 

My tagline is from Issa:  “There are no strangers beneath the cherry tree.”  We are all one together in our fleeting existence; we are one as we stand beneath the tree in full bloom and gaze upward at its glorious vision of pink; we are all relieved of the rain as we stand beneath it for shelter; we gaze at the moon through its bare branches in winter and sigh at its luminous glow in the black sky. 

In “The Last Samurai”, Katsumoto sought the perfect cherry blossom.  It was only at his dying, as he looked up at the cherry blossoms above him that he said, “Perfect. They are all perfect.”  Whether at that moment, all the blossoms above him were at that perfect stage or either, he realized, that their being, in and of themselves, were perfect, I do not know.  However, that is what I prefer to think – that the blossoms, in whatever stage they were:  bud, blooming, full blown, faded….were perfect.  They were as they should be just at that moment.

 My blog identity, Kanzen Sakura, means, “perfect cherry blossom”.  At least, I hope so.  My Latin is much better than my Japanese.  If it doesn’t mean “perfect cherry blossom”, please don’t tell me.  Let me live in my illusion that I got something right.  Because you see, I feel that whatever state I am in:  joyful, mourning, pensive, angry, cynical, full of faith, blooming,  fading: I am perfect – I am in the stage I should be at that time. 

We all strive for something and rarely realize, we are as we should be; that we are all ephemeral – we are not strangers beneath the cherry tree of life.  Sometimes when I am roaming around at night outside, or doing something in the yard with my husband, I look around.  I smell the autumn-summer-winter-spring aromas.  The bare limbs-delicate pale green leaves-the lush dark green leaves-the parti-coloured autumn quilt of the trees:  I sigh deeply and tell my husband “These are the good old days.”.  He looks at me as if I was crazy and doesn’t quite comprehend, but he does understand that I have gone to a place he can’t go and chooses to smile at me instead of trying to follow.  He respects my territory under the cherry tree.

 It doesn’t mean we should stop searching or dreaming.  But sometimes…….The perfect cherry blossom?  Hold out your hand and grasp the air in front of you.  You are holding the perfect cherry blossom.

Sunday 1:00 a.m.

 
Quiet and alone
I sit and gaze at the moon.
Clouds of gauze drift across
Its face.
Brilliant light reflects on
the surrounding clouds.
I long to put my arms around you
Like a circle around the moon.
Indigo night sky
Starless and dark
Except for the moon.
The only bit of brightness
In the darkness.
You – the light in
My indigo soul
Starless and dark.
A small wild rabbit
Grazes in a patch of clover and
Never sees me at all.
I am so still, he does not
Perceive my presence.
The rabbit and I strangers,
Yet companions under the August moon.
The silent moon gazes at me
And keeps my secrets.
 

Haiku – General

Cherry blossoms:
rain kisses
Yearning: my heart weeps.
 
Cherry blossoms
Frozen by March sleet.
You are gone.
 
Koi:
Picking bugs
Off the moon
 
Brown branch
Snow covered.
Moonlight touches.
 
Ginger cat sleeps
Whiskers twitch
Dreams tumble
 
Falling snow.
Midnight walk under
Full moon: Cold peace still
 
The truth is this:
Honor before love –
Right thing breaks hearts
 
Arms stretched wide
Spinning slow fast
Embracing the rain
 
Full bright moon.
Black lace tree brances.
Chiarascuro.
(written for a friend to share some “alone” time)
 
 Holding up my
purring cat to the
Moon , I laughed
 
 
 
 

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