Japanese Short Form Poetry 2011
Page 3.
"We shall never understand one another until we reduce the language to seven words."- - Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931)
Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine © 2007-2019
watching Survivor...
they all wear Che Guevara
T-shirts
autumn moonlight
shining upon his gravestone:
the swan sings in sleep
for Kenneth Rexroth)
by Chen-ou Liu
first recital
by Nancy Nitrio
new moon night--
by Lucas Stensland
by Oprica Padeanu
She loved to be brushed in the sunshine and often slept in the gardenia bush on hot summer days. In the autumn and winter there was always a warm smell of wood smoke rising from her fur. On the rare occasion that she slept with us, we held her paws as she snuggled between us.
first recital
tension …
on the piano strings
approaching storm—
the silver flash
of turning pigeons
by Nancy Nitrio
new moon night--
one lantern lit
and the bamboo turns gold
an army of Kwan Yins
on the hillside--
cypress grove.
over pampas grass / a vee / of twelve snow geese.
by Alexis Rotella
abandoned schoolhouse
the overgrown grass
points away
melancholia
that could melt houses
eyelids on the sofa
by Lucas Stensland
morning mist
rising on the bay
ghosts or gulls
in the air
a wave of foam
snowy egret
crack of dawn
the steel cold cry
of a blue jay
out of the fog
a goose calling
lost
by Neal Whitman
dusk
play of sunlight
on stucco and stone
dark shadows
across the path not taken -
what might have been
by Tracy Davidson
cold afternoon
Santa holds the coughing girl
at arm’s length
winter songbirds--
I can’t name them but I hear
dad among them
right on time. . .
a ladybug lands
on her gravestone
by Robert Epstein
the first butterflies
sliding through the light...
it seems, it's snowing
by Oprica Padeanu
after the storm
the silence
between street puddles
by Paul David Mena
Buttercup by Nancy Nitrio
She came into our lives one spring morning; a hoarse meow at the back door. No one claimed her so she became ours; my husband and I. We named her Buttercup.
She loved to be brushed in the sunshine and often slept in the gardenia bush on hot summer days. In the autumn and winter there was always a warm smell of wood smoke rising from her fur. On the rare occasion that she slept with us, we held her paws as she snuggled between us.
She was always bringing home stray cats for meals and our help. Her last feline friend, remained close by her side. She shared her favorite chair and bed with him and they became constant companions.
As the autumn of last year approached we noticed Buttercup was eating less and less and frequently disappearing into the neighbor’s yard for days at a time until one day, we found her resting under the neighbor’s tree with her faithful friend beside her. We brought her home to remain safe with us for what had become the last ten days of her life.
We spent that time letting her know how very thankful we were that she had been a part of our lives and that it was her time to go. As the vet released her from her pain, we held her soft paws and watched the light fade from her tired eyes.
the wind
scattering her ashes …
wildflowers
summer heat -
my cat holds a yoga pose
in front of the fan
i paint her toes
slowly
she turns the page
quick stop -
the pretty cashier
changes that
by Jeffrey Hanson
On the train platform
one thousand people
alone.
by David Jisl
hurricane
his voice stirs
the room
after all these years
the smile that brought the sun
...brings the sun
by R.D. Bailey
rain -
a strand of flooded canyons
catching the echo
channel of mist
among river reeds
rumors
a newborn creek
murmuring
autumn wind
separating the chaff
rusty threshers
in a dank back closet
moss on unworn shoes
night’s void
in a stand of red twig
one dragon-root
a cat nap
on the sofa...
cappuccino
by Michael F. King
„Namaste!” I hear
in the silent night –
the nightingale
by Patricia Lidia