serenade
this ocean, singing,
emerald green and midnight blue
carries me away
Tag: haiku
gold
today’s gentle rain
in tiny yellow flowers
falls into my heart
有り難う
for every hardship
i whisper this magic spell
有り難う
有難う (ありがとう) “arigatō” means “thank you” in Japanese. Embedded in the word arigatō is the meaning that existence is hard and kindness is precious; we give thanks for kindness.
Gratitude is the seed that grows a new garden in the desert.
the journey
as haiku:
seven thousand miles
step by step and side by side
this journey of life
as free verse poetry:
in the middle of the journey
neither shore can be seen
in the middle
the deep unknown rises to the surface and stretches
seven thousand miles in every direction
and becomes
horizon
in the middle
there is no forwards nor backwards
there is only this journey itself
step by step
and life, like a siren to the soul,
is salt and honey
and the waves crashing
but even here, in the middle, in the deep endless blue
you stay
everywhere with me
like an angel, or
an immortal dragon—guardian of my heart
and together, side by side, we see
a bright shining light
polaris
of the night
a cup of coffee
steaming bright and bold
i am black bitter coffee
with the sun, rising
In this crazy world of ours… I want to be peace and to be love—and a little bit of whimsy. Anything else simply hurts too much. Aren’t we all beyond tired of the violence by now? Exhausted, really. We’ve seen world wars traumatize generations and we’ve watched empires rise and fall like storm systems shifting across the globe.
Where does it all come from? I do not understand its fuel nor this pathology of self-destruction. I am not sold on a superficial history defined by battles between so-called heroes and villains, saviors and sinners, the haves and the have-nots, and the blessed and the damned. All life is sacred. We are all worthy and beautiful.
I sit in the morning. Groggy, with recalled terrors from yesterday’s news—these persistent, ongoing nightmares of abductions, starvation, theft, genocide… and the suffering of children. Mania of distorted powers. And i try to just breathe and sip my hot, black coffee. We are steaming. With the sun, we rise again for a new day.
brimful
blushing wild roses
unfurl into dawn’s soft skies
brimful with pink love
This haiku came back to me, yesterday. And like a scent-sparked memory, I felt the soft petals unfurling against the light blue sky—again. May I too, greet yet another day dancing, without hesitation nor slight. Just brimful, in the light.
one thousand years
one thousand years
in a heartbeat passing by
we dance again
chrysanthemums
chrysanthemums gold
in sky dreams bold and bright blue
carry my heart home
moonache
stray solitary
this moon full behind the clouds
seeks a silver thread
Whilst moon gazing some five plus years ago in Kyoto, I felt in my heart, a moonache. A longing to touch something seemingly just beyond my fingertips—so close and yet, and yet so insurmountably far away………..
How oh how to touch to be to be in touch? To be in.touch? Beautiful moon of my heart, how to touch and to hold, You? So close—like the warm pulse soft underneath my skin—and yet, and yet so far far and unbearably far away? Is there not a threadlike silver spiderweb where to you, i can be led?
Do not stray, please—dear moon moon of my heart. This moonache is so much more than my body fragile
can bear.
