| A poem I wrote to reflect and to release intense feeling. |
The typhoonThe typhoonThe typhoon
Outside, was shaking Inside, I lay awake Kissing my lover As before
Typhoons Within and without In their wake Things fall into place
Seasons and the cityThe urban wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see、all manner and level of buildings obfuscating the horizon、as we sped through the city like a blood cell in one of its clogged arteries.Seasons and the city
Gradually, the grey gave way and splashes of colour flashed in the windows; glimpses of shrines, small farms and traditional houses in suburban south Osaka. I nodded to a huddle of rogue persimmon trees on the edge of a plot, as they guarded neat rows of rice and winter vegetables.
As we journeyed deeper south, autumn could be seen in the trees and towns. All manner of citrus grew determinedly between
Summer rainSummer rainSummer rain
It is my second Sunday in Osaka, today. Late afternoon, or early evening, whichever you will. Outside, the rain falls softly. Late summer rain. The air is saturated with moisture, the humidity like nothing I have ever experienced. The cicadas, though subdued by the precipitation, continue to whirr – sharing the final stage of their existence with the world, hoping that someone will hear.
I hear, though I do not listen. It is not something I am proud of, and it must be changed. This year, I must practise engaging each sense fully, simultaneously, to fully and truly live in each moment, so that it doe
Where water flowsWhere water flows Dramrocks will sing (Gateways do open) While bulrushes their ears do bend And gannets nearby swim/And the blue chirrups singWhere water flows
(It's a painful day) The pain, present in dawn's dew The sunrise, in manilla hue Beautiful, but empty To life's wanderer (wonderer) (Alone) on/in the grassy vue/ field/subdue
Nearby, a footbridge connects This world to that, Neither mine Carrying the guilty/selfish burden of many a man Soles click-clack on the cobbled stone As business becomes all
Their minds wrestling life's essen
| A poem I wrote to reflect and to release intense feeling. |
| A vegan wordsmith with a penchant for plants, poetry, people and animals. Oh, and cake. ^_^ |
Freezing fingers
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"Don't Stop Believing,
Hold onto that feeling..."
"So why don't we go,
Somewhere only we know?"
Sing♥ [link]
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We speak our world with every utterance.
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"Don't Stop Believing,
Hold onto that feeling..."
"So why don't we go,
Somewhere only we know?"
Sing♥ [link]
--
"If ignorance is bliss, is it folly to be wise?"
I have only put up 2 pieces of writing so far, since I changed my profile - will get more up slowly.
--
We speak our world with every utterance.
--
Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
--Pablo Picasso
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Poetry is a way to let your emotions out.
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I think you're lovely.
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Poetry is a way to let your emotions out.
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