Japanese Short Form Poetry 2014 - 2015

Page 5.

"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


in the cancer ward
dreaming of wind in my hair

                 by Carolyn M. Hinderliter

rotted planks
the moss-covered wharf
abandoned thoroughfare

daylight coffee shop
a warm place beyond the cold
stuff that won’t get done

                  by ayaz daryl Nielsen

brushes and inkpot
for the right thoughts

do you chase 
dreaming dog?

to the stars
that have watched too long
nothing is new

              by Jackie Maugh Robinson

summer shower --
a waterfall swallows
its echo

               by Theresa A. Cancro

my grandma:
even the moon
has scars

eerie night
the cricket replies
to itself

                   by Surbhi Grover

orange sunset...
the color of shrimps
born without eyes

swatted flies—
long dead before
the police came

the smells of wine
bring us together

                    by Ernesto P. Santiago 

dusk settles —
my likeness
in every pane

first kick
in her womb
peach blossoms

GPS malfunction—
the same moon
at every turn

fireplace —
a burning home 
warms a house

the well gives up

White Christmas—
a mailbox gathering

                        by Carl Seguiban

not alone
on this short path
the butterflies

a monk
picking up Bleeding Hearts...
temple bells

long proboscis
reaching deep into the peony...
lover's whispers

                           by Rita Odeh  (Nazareth, Israel)

Break  by Alison Lock

I am in my attic with its damp gable end, its V-shaped roof, exposed beams, purloins, joists that form the frame of a great shell, an umbrella to protect me from the rain. I write from the centre of the spokes, gaze out of the soft glassy spiral, the windows, the skylight––patches of cloud are suspended, stilled. They are drifting, slowly, very slowly, from right to left, from east to west––bringing the snows, no doubt.

exhaled air, puffs
paper white

HAIKU -  by Sean Lause

Cat in freezing rain—
First its breath,
then its cry

Leaves of the oak tree
pasted on wet pavement.
Soggy cornflakes!
Bach on the radio.
A spider weaves her web
with furious joy
Firefly, here, there,
advertises himself
He’s open all night
After the tornado
the corn stalks
bow down in reverence
Between the question
and the answer,
the mourning dove calls

Where is heaven?
The flowers point
in all directions

December rain,
snowmen melting
into tombstones


claims his share
of the picnic

practicing shiatsu
in my sleep

                   by Jackie Maugh Robinson

White webs suspended
in geometric free fall-- 
winter has arrived

                         by A.J. Huffman

                                  by  Alexis Rotella 

To the Balcony Dream

The gatekeeper, even though it’s forbidden, allows me to escort a
German couple, strangers, to the balcony where I point out
snow-covered Alps, two peaks so close we can almost touch them.
Today a Lufthansa jet liner was deliberately crashed into the French
Alps–144 people killed.

Was it already written in the akashic records– that this tragedy was inevitable?

The wind
wearing my father's

                           by  Alexis Rotella

I pluck memories
one by one

soft breeze...
a cosmo unfolds
within me

midsummer lull...
this silence now etched
on my lips

ballerina -
a butterfly alights
in mid-air

                                 by Shloka Shankar

brambles through
the window of an old truck
his last illness

a grass snake
on the path -
creeping thyme

driving home -
a new crease
in the map

                         by Joanna M. Weston 

blizzard after-
adding tempeh to my shopping list

that bitch side of me€”
expired coupons, pesticide potatoes . . .

mom's Depends hidden
beneath pink grapefruit

                            by Anna Cates

plastic containers
and plastic smiles...
        another family reunion

                          by Prerna Bakshi

at the beach
the umbrella

                       by Elizabeth Crocket

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