Japanese Short Form Poetry 2012 - 2013

"We shall never understand one another until we reduce the language to seven words."- - Kahlil Gibran   (1883-1931)
Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine © 2007-2016   P.O. Box 17331    Arlington, VA 22216 

2012


refugee camp-
sculpting the tree trunk
into a cross
Simply Haiku(Summer 2007, vol 5 no 2)


crowded park-
a couple hugs
in my shadow
Daily Haiku(August 08, 2008)
                  by Rita Odeh  (Israel)




stinging smoke
the bus station waiting room
full



warm river foam
gracing the ocean tide
hungry gulls



bumble bees
bending the daffodils
morning harmony
                  by Neal Whitman




horse trailer
by curved eucalyptus leaves
that skit in the gutter
previously published in Stylus Poetry Journal, March 2007
                  by Daniel Wilcox



secret garden—
the whisper
of butterfly wings


under
the feather quilt
... purring
                 by Nancy Nitrio





horses in the fields-
girls fill the stables
with gossip 

 
planted fir wood
flashing by
slices of sky

 
winter horizon
   the signatures
   of trees
 
 
after rain
sun silvers
the blackened oak 

evening chill
an outbreak
of stars

sudden rain
venetian blind inhales
exhales

stumbling beetle
lost
the wrong side of the rug
                
                 by Robert Davey



in between
double rainbows - 
a space for dreams 
                  by Gillena Cox (Trinidad and Tobago)





afternoon heat
cicada’s sing 
in rounds



thunder peppered dawn
     their dog whining
     at a hurricane sky
        
      
silhouette of birds
breaks the spell
    svengali moon
                  by Elizabeth McTaggart




the sky
of star-crossed lovers
Facebook-blue


muscle car
the guy who gets high
with my wife 
                  by Lucas Stensland




aftermath...
an eagle circling
the stone Buddha



drinking alone...
I scoop the harvest moon
from the river
                  by Chen-ou Liu




barefoot children
wearing the scents of summer
                  by Elizabeth McTaggart
 
 
 
 
 
my grandparents' graves
a laughing child
skips between them
 
  
 
tree climbing race
I fall a few more
centuries behind
 
 
 
shrouded moon—
I feed a cricket
to the sungazer
 
 
 
desert heat
she describes the children
they never had
 
 
bare branches
over and over
she says it's over
 
                   by  John McManus
 
 
 
 
 
guitar~
caught in a web
of fingers
 
                   by  Martin Pedersen





foreclosure sign...
in its shadow
a dollhouse


two men on fire
outside the Jokhang
a fleeting cloud
(note: The Jokhang is located on Barkhor Square in Lhasa,  and it is generally considered the most sacred temple in Tibet)


July 4th fireworks...
ducking the gunfire
in his head


a hunter's moon
high between Pacific shores
...thoughts that go so far

 
autumn twilight
the raven and I speak
for ourselves


hometown memories...
I wipe the window
clear of frost
 
          by  Chen-ou Liu





shoreline busy
with cell phone walkers –
migrating warblers
                    by Neal Whitman





distant hill
a river carrying
the spring



watering hole
an elephant sucks
the sundown

* * * * * * *



autumn dawn --
mother serves white rice
on an almond leaf
 
Asahi Shimbun
 

rice fields
bent woman reaping
gossip 
 
Simply Haiku 9.2
                     by Ramesh Anand




distant bell...
gives a voice to the wind
                     by Sarah Monagle




crow's nest
twine becomes
a world


blue jays
in the morning light
from now on, only love  


hummingbird moth
in purple petunias
the velvet of summer nights
                        by kate s. godsey




autumn sunset ...
koi swim
toward the day's end
                         by Nu Quang
 

2013


cactus quills
he asks why I always
have to be so honest

 

 
the last time
I ever saw you—
red-flowering currant
 
 

deepening gales
I give in
to my rage
 
 

the last apple out of reach
setting sun
 
 

I say snow
he says flowers
long-distance phone call
 
 

not so far away
the stars
that I’m made of
 



 *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

food bank line—
striking up a conversation
with my old boss
 HaikuNews, Vol. 1, No. 3

                          by Seren Fargo


HAIGA





HAIGA




 


sunrise . . .
sliding down a blossom's
wetness


                      by robert d. wilson



 
children laugh
in a snowball fight
food bank line


 
Schubert~
accompanied by crows

                      by Belle Shalom

 


a pine cone fell
and some bird flew off
last day of spring


over white roses
a silky film of dew
first kiss


 
a crowded beach
with no lifeguard
swell day

                       by Neal Whitman



Meditation
 
When one accepts the nothingness, what’s left is not nothingness but acceptance. Whatever we do, whatever our level of consciousness, we rarely have the benefit of another person’s view of us, our own is primary, if skewed.
 

third bell
we enter
the unknown

 
                  by Owen Bullock
                 



Miranda
 
Exhausted by a heavy week, we take off for Miranda and the bird sanctuary.
 

when I’m dead
I’ll roll with the dew drops
in the fields

 
It’s only an hour’s drive away, and we’ve been meaning to visit for years, but it seems a real effort to go. My partner kindly drives.
 

early spring
lichen
in the bare trees

 
The camp ground is full of families; it’s the school holidays, which we hadn’t counted on.
 

an old man
needs the hand rail
to leave the hot pool
in my mind I stumble
in sympathy

 
The camp kitchen has no cutlery; a woman lends us some. We watch her toddler playing with the sink plunger, waving it in the air and chewing on it. The family offer us fresh vegetables from their garden back home.
 
There won’t be many birds in the estuary, the man at the centre explains, best to go and do something else and come back at high tide. We start the walk anyway and see a kotuku – white heron – at the first bend in the river. The track is lined thickly with fennel. The tide is a long way out. The sand bars are barren, their emptiness draws us on. We sit in one of the hides and talk.
 
After lunch in nearby Thames and a wander in the market, we return in the late afternoon. Birds mass on the sand bar. As the tide runs in, waders edge closer.
 

dusk –
pairs of pied stilts
walk on themselves

 
A full moon rises over the Coromandel ranges. Every now and again the birds take to the air in huge swarms; there are about 9,000 birds here at the moment. In February/ March there will be 15,000, when migrants from the South Island arrive and before the godwits leave.
 
A man with binoculars gives us a look. Amongst the pied stilts is a rare marsh sandpiper, he says. The man from the centre appears armed with a telescope which he generously makes available to visitors. The estuary is very broad and one can’t discern much detail with the naked eye. Now we can see each bird in their groups, wrybills, godwits, caspian terns and oystercatchers. The godwits have long up-turned beaks that seem comical and yet so well adapted. The sun sets behind us, the sky a bruised dark purple. Inland, a dozen royal spoonbills nest in a macrocarpa tree. Through the telescope I get my first glimpse of those enormous spatulate beaks.


                 by Owen Bullock



 


how many worlds
await me...
indigo dawn
 

ripples shape
the water of my mind -
winter heron
 

not wanting to know
what comes next -
first blossoms

              by Paul Smith
 
 
 

No cats allowed
in our house --
both parents Leo
 


Garden roses --
they rearrange
themselves.

                   by Alexis Rotella




bayou sunset -
an egret’s shadow
spears a fish

                   by Jay Friedenberg
 
 
 

 
 
a cool breeze
across the asphalt
words for a poem
 
 
 
 
 
morning coffee
her scent
upon my bathrobe

 
 
              by ayaz daryl nielsen
 
 

 
mushroom gathering
I trust her
with a secret

(first published the Herons Nest VII:4)         
 
                      by Clive Oseman
 
 

hummingbird song
whispering
words to forget you
                    

                         by Nancy May
 
 

 

 
spring --
a fisherman nets
the sunset

 
 

autumn sky
patches of twilight
in the falling leaf

(First published in A Hundred Gourds, 2012)
 
 
 
 

paddy field
the stream carrying
clouds
 

(First published in Simply Haiku, 2012)

                         by Ramesh Anand
 
 
 

cat on the fence
again
a moon song
 
 
 
 
crow on a branch
disses the noisy mutt
so beneath him
          

                            by ayaz daryl nielsen



mayflies swarm ...
abortion-herb
boiling
 



 
what are
our original nature?
snowman and I
 




I get my head
out of the clouds
lotus pond at dawn

                     by Chen-ou Liu 

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