Kirigirisu

2012-02-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

Going Gentle

                              Boy
                              Man
                              Old man

                              Suddenly

                              The horizon looms
                              Not even bothering to mock

2012-02-11T09:59:00.001-05:00

Childish Things

By day

grandmothers' tales.

Yet lost in fog by night --

hear the crow cry, the bare bough break,

stout heart!

2012-02-08T12:51:00.001-05:00

Endymion's Lyre

Beyond

the honied shrine

you rise in night's brocade.

Kiss me in the grove til we both

wax pale.

2012-02-06T09:27:00.000-05:00

Full Moon

Watching

to silver-plate

my lack of decorum,

still desirous to touch gently

what was.

2012-02-05T13:00:00.000-05:00

Now I Am Old

Tell me,

my childhood friend

gazing up at the sky,

does the full moon come more quickly

to you?

2012-01-30T00:00:00.000-05:00

rising sap retreats

from freshly laden branches--

lambs swell in the womb

2012-01-22T14:13:00.000-05:00

Your golden-eyed girl

may indeed possess nine lives

but this one is yours.

Held close, she presses her face

in relief upon your heart.

for Chloe & Margaret

2012-01-22T09:25:00.002-05:00

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Excellent post at Jim Wilson's blog Shaping Words today. He designates the day as "Syllabic Tanka Day, 2012", reminding us of the lyrical roots of English tanka in ancient Japanese waka (song). He also provides some stunning contemporary examples. Thank you, Jim.

2012-01-20T09:57:00.000-05:00

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN
A Tanka Set

Does the seed-head fret

as her offspring take the breeze?

In freedom spores float

to sink their roots where they will,

raising faces to the sun.

The blade of the scythe

is made keener by its shape,

to reap standing grain.

Beauty rises from what’s formed

in the answering of need.

Nothing’s ever lost.

The earth’s crust rises and falls,

revealing itself

in prismatic light above,

in hidden treasure below.

(I should note that the first four comments, including Claire's poem, were written when this post consisted of only the first tanka. - Brian)

2012-01-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MR. POE

Bard’s

heart

of bird,

worm-bit soul,

summon your maelstrom

when the ghoulish bells, bells, bells toll.

2012-01-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

The moon

we watch

may swiftly wane

but observe

how friendship waxes

[revised]

Written in honor of poet Aizu Taro on the occasion of his birthday.

2012-01-14T11:26:00.000-05:00

                                predicted flurries
                                change to inches overnight
                                does feed on berries

2012-01-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

I am honoured to have my cinquain, "Metempsychosis", appear as the featured poem in today's edition of Everday Poets. If you are not familiar with this journal of short poetry, I urge you to check it out. You can even have the daily poem sent directly to your email inbox.

2012-01-07T10:03:00.000-05:00

                       poet--
                       those far fields
                       you graft on this stalk
                       join three grains for greater yields

                                             for Jim Wilson

2012-01-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

Days
soon

                          or late
                          the seasons
                          heed no calendar

save tilt, light, warmth and distant fate.

Happy New Year to all readers & friends.

2011-12-29T10:37:00.000-05:00

rain
gives way
this late hour
to falling snow
white and sharp as grief turned lovely and cold

2011-12-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

                                  no matter
                                  this mountain fog
                                  or longest night
                                  the solstice arrives
dressed before dawn


(The winter solstice arrived this morning at 12:30 A.M. in N. America.)

2011-12-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

fast
falls night
December’s
cold winding-sheet
still

2011-12-19T10:42:00.000-05:00

                            "Make This Bed With Awe"

                             Closer
                             than a lover,
                             more lingering than breath,
                             above and below me pressing--
                             my death.

2011-12-19T01:50:00.000-05:00

                                          friend
                                          hymn
                                          one last
                                          lovely song
                                          before you cloister
                                          seraphim under binding vow

                                                                         for Kay

2011-12-18T10:34:00.000-05:00

                              night
                              snow,
                              winter
                              also bears
                              its own white blossoms,
                              red sedum becomes Queen Anne’s Lace

2011-12-15T00:00:00.001-05:00

                                                 the house
                                                 still stands where
                                                 a shy girl descends
                                                 a vanished stair
                                                 to her suitor

2011-12-08T15:23:00.001-05:00

bowl
of moon
do not spill
your iced broth of
bone

2011-12-01T00:00:00.000-05:00

                                                  to see
                                                  this face turn
                                                  fifty-four
                                                  lower your gaze
                                                to these hands


              Audio

2011-11-23T09:29:00.001-05:00

                                                how much
                                                can outstretched arms
                                                support,
                                                snow-freighted
                                                branches endure




Inspired by another Catherine Kerr (Beyond the Fields We Know) photo, this one from her 11/23/11 "Wordless Wednesday" post. (I know, ironies abound.) Cate, I promise not to make a habit of scribbling over your more beautifully subtle poems. -Brian

2011-11-20T00:00:00.000-05:00

                                                 last shout
                                                 of autumn sun
                                                 by evening
                                                 winter whispers
                                                 in the hearth

2011-11-12T10:38:00.019-05:00

                                                   waving
                                                   frayed flags
                                                   the parade
                                                   ends where it began...
                                                   autumn birch trees

inspired by the Nov. 12, 2011 blog photograph by Catherine Kerr at “Beyond the Fields We Know”

2011-11-08T17:29:00.001-05:00

rolling waves

of wild grasses--

swathes

of primal language

lost in translation

                                         published "Gusts, Fall/Winter, 2011"

2011-11-03T09:27:00.038-04:00

                                                     you who loved
                                                     and laboured
                                                     cool your brows
                                                     rest you may have earned
                                                     but not your leave

                                    for the departed, All Soul's Day, November 2

Response tanka (revised) to "Fallen Leaves", At the Edge of Dreams blog, 11/02/11

Halloween

2011-10-31T02:29:00.017-04:00

behind
his carved leer
lock the door
how often deception
stays the hand of evil

patiently
from the moonlit roof
my cat
appears to be waiting...
All Hallow’s Eve

a late knock
the last Halloween
beggar...
I swear that face
looked oddly familiar

take heed--
the waxing moon
slowly
opens closet doors
on dancing skeletons

Happy Samhain to all!

2011-10-27T09:43:00.019-04:00

In Your Absence

autumn enters

                                                        the darkened room
                                                        cold rain

                                                        how softly
                                                        the hidden moon
                                                        passes
                                                        only in your absence
                                                        do I embrace you

                                                        backlit
                                                        maple leaves--
                                                        Indian Summer

                                                        dripping
                                                        the limp scarecrow
                                                        among corn shocks

tanka "sonnet"
For Claire who inspired the attempt.

Congratulations, Chen-ou Liu

2011-10-24T09:39:00.025-04:00

Following the Moon to the Maple Land, by Chen-ou Liu (First Prize Winner of the Spring 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest)

Publisher: Haiku Pix Productions
ISBN: 978-986-86788-3-5
Price: U. S. 10; CAN 15.95
Bravo, Chen-ou!

2011-10-20T20:30:00.004-04:00

in dream
I offer her
my chair
set apart from
the row of ghosts

2011-10-12T09:07:00.019-04:00

The Hunter

In vain
I sought the moon
cresting the horizon.
Looking up -- O weightless height and
pallor!

Among the Native American, Algonquin people, the October moon is often called the "Hunter Moon". The Algonquin have several other titles for this moon, "Dying Moon" being another.

2011-10-12T08:56:00.030-04:00

A Few Notes on Cinquain

I'd like to take a moment here to touch on several aspects of the cinquain that bear emphasizing. These notes were originally posted in the comments section of this blog.

Those looking to hear or feel the same qualities in cinquain as found in tanka and haiku will invariably be disappointed. The cinquain, while inspired by her reading of Japanese tanka and haiku, was never intended by Adelaide Crapsey to imitate the Asian forms. It was to be syntactically, rhythmically, and imagistically, a thoroughly western poem.

Crapsey considered herself to be first and foremost a scholar and prosodist. Conversant with the history of western poetry, she would have been no stranger to the pentastich and other short western forms. These forms, no doubt, also influenced her creation of the American Cinquain.

I suspect many tanka readers encountering cinquain for the first time might initially miss its "telegraphic"* language and (often) extraordinary brevity. I believe that is one reason cinquain is generally published in journals devoted to short-form poetry but not those devoted exclusively to Japanese short-forms. It is just too western a form in diction, device, meter and music to be included in the latter. -BZ

*I first encountered the word "telegraphic" in this context when reading the work of poet, Denis Garrison. I do not know whether or not it is original to him.

2011-10-06T23:58:00.080-04:00

De Rerum Natura

And when
the monarch flies
into the sun’s embrace,
then how the world-mosaic is
revealed!

De Rerum Natura (Latin): "The Nature of Things". Treatise in verse on natural philosophy by the Roman Epicurean poet, Lucretius (ca. 99 BCE – ca. 55 BCE).

2011-09-29T13:10:00.034-04:00

September's Slant of Light

Do you
hear the silence
Of the dove’s seasoned grief;
her companionable mourning
ended?

Note: The cinquain as created by Adelaide Crapsey always included and was intended to include a title. Not simply a title, but one that could often stand as a kind of sixth line to the poem, contributing nuance or a subtle hint of interpretation. I have decided to experiment with titles here and see what I think. Of course many poets today (especially those who consider cinquain to be mostly an English derivation of Japanese tanka) omit titles as I have done in the past. -BZ

2011-09-21T13:09:00.000-04:00

I grow
deaf to flowers
buffeted by the wind.
Deftly, the spider spins her web
again.

Revised with deepest thanks to Kay Tracy / Immersed In Word for pointing-out the cinquain secreted in what I thought was a tanka. (Amazing eye and ear, Kay).

2011-09-09T20:38:00.010-04:00

Escort
the light dying
in its season, singer.
With torch for tongue you precede yet
linger.

In memory of Svetlana Marisova

2011-09-07T12:33:00.073-04:00

I urge all visitors here to read the latest post by Claire Everett at "At the Edge of Dreams". This most recent installment introduces poems written by an artist at the height of her powers.

my empty cup spills
over with blackbird song....

2011-09-01T19:50:00.017-04:00

The wasp
lays her eggs on
the spider’s back. All feed
though none may expect or merit
pardon.

2011-08-24T12:03:00.033-04:00

Eyes meet
and sometimes merge
In green and hidden realms.
My one desire, this secret land
revealed
beneath my feet: mother, body,
fair cradle and coffin,
my first and last
great love.

for Claire & Kay

2011-08-14T00:00:00.003-04:00

that last
conversation
birds sang
sweeter, sadder--
I didn’t listen

Vacation

2011-07-28T00:00:00.010-04:00

I will be on holiday until the middle of next month. Kirigirisu may be silent during much of that period. I hope to begin posting regularly again after August 13th.

Brian

2011-07-24T00:00:00.018-04:00

this length
of rural highway
now green and gold
unwinds the joy
of every season

2011-07-17T00:00:00.010-04:00

each note richer—
the fledgling
sings in earnest
for his father’s
approval

for Chen-ou Liu

2011-07-14T09:49:00.014-04:00

I urge all to read the beautiful tanka duet, 'the quiet of my heart', by two of the most accomplished poets writing in the genre today: Paul Smith (Paper Moon), and Claire Everett (At the Edge of Dreams).

2011-07-10T00:00:00.021-04:00

I consider
my bruised
fingernail
its black ridges
and rising moon

2011-07-03T00:00:00.000-04:00

Daily
he visited
the single lotus bud
where waiting became his deepest
passion.

2011-06-26T00:00:00.000-04:00

called gentle
and kind
a secret tear
falls into
the tiger-lily

2011-06-19T00:00:00.012-04:00

this morning
her dogs curl-up
together
care-worn and confused
in the silent house

for Mary B., d. April 1, 2011

2011-06-12T00:00:00.013-04:00

too late—
time-allotted
blossoms
in the lilac dell
almost finished

2011-06-05T00:00:00.018-04:00

30 years on
we reconnect
via email
for now the same
lads in their twenties

2011-05-29T09:47:00.031-04:00

a canopy
of cherry blossoms
alone
could ever
cover me

2011-05-26T13:51:00.055-04:00

The Japanese gogyohshi poet, Tanaka Kaoru, recently gifted me with a copy of his only collection of poems to be translated into English. Fragrant Winds is the work of a poet whose art is the essence of simplicity. Aphoristic and direct, these gogyohshi speak to the reader without a trace of affectation:

Sunlight Through the Shade

A ray of Sunlight is leaking into the woods.
It is the loving glance of a god.
It is a gentle and smiling light.
It is a warm and caressing light.
It will soothe and heal your depleted heart.

Not only are the poems of an exquisite delicacy, but the physical book itself is an object of aesthetic beauty, hand-made by the author himself. The pages are bound between the thinnest of finely-crafted papers, the binding edged with gold foil depicting various Japanese cultural motifs and images.

Returning to the poems, the reader is struck by their candor. Here one finds a transparent humility able to render an entire philosophy of life in 5 lines:

Without Asking Reward

I don't want to be acknowledged,
as long as I am working hard.
I don't want to be praised,
as long as I live true to myself.
I'd like to live a daily humdrum life.

As with much Japanese poetry, these gogyohshi often reveal their depths through a disarming naiveté of voice. Their hidden wisdom suddenly reaches out through a simple image or single line to reward the attentive reader's listening:

On My Pilgrimage to Temples

I've decided to walk quietly
leaving myself to the whim of the wind.
I walk simply and calmly
deserting myself by the roadside.
In earnest, I just walk on.

Thank you, Tanaka Kaoru, for allowing us to accompany you on your journey through Fragrant Winds.

2011-05-22T09:42:00.002-04:00

the point
where defeat
at last
welcomes rest –
winter yields

2011-05-15T09:40:00.015-04:00

blurring
every shot
the honeybee
in the cherry tree
refuses to pose

2011-05-08T10:09:00.015-04:00

autumn’s fallen leaf
its beauty still
in memory
makes possible
this flowering spring

Mother's Day, 2011

2011-05-07T00:00:00.007-04:00

the moon
once cycled slowly
as the boy
on his bike
this late evening

2011-04-30T22:04:00.004-04:00

staccato notes
of rain
on the wooden fence –
a xylophone
beneath robin-song

2011-04-23T00:00:00.013-04:00

Enough
to see her face
as astonished infant,
or from her last bed, the last night.
O moon, always with us –
grow, gently fade...
vanish.

for my mother, d. April 21, 2008

2011-04-16T00:00:00.000-04:00

Broken
and bent, the corn
long gathered from its husk;
dry russet fields rest to yield yet
again.

2011-04-09T12:00:00.000-04:00

In my tree
the robin
and withered berry
rendezvous
in season.

2011-04-02T09:43:00.000-04:00

in the cold
of night
crocuses dream
of song
not summer

Ripples from a Splash: A Collection of Haiku Essays with Award-Winning Haiku, by Chen-ou Liu

2011-03-29T10:14:00.010-04:00

I want to draw readers attention to Chen-ou Liu's excellent new book Ripples from a Splash, a must have collection of prose & poetry for those who love, write and care about the short poem. Click on title above to preview and download.

2011-03-26T10:25:00.002-04:00

two tears
frozen
on the shingles
of a house
in denial

2011-03-19T00:00:00.000-04:00

And now
he soon must leave,
this old man who’s just seen
how midnight snow clings to the hill
unmoved.

2011-03-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

The smells
and warmth of home.
Keys tossed in a glass bowl.
Life assumes the appearance of
safety.

Duet

2011-03-05T12:41:00.012-05:00

The afterglow
is swaying
in the river
by effects of ripples
after a boat runs.

- Kyoka

photo Aizu Taro

She pours
a golden
vintage
from the river's
sunlit wine.

- BZ

2011-03-01T00:00:00.004-05:00

illusion
of mortar
snow falls
from between
the bricks

2011-02-22T00:00:00.002-05:00

Nothing
to grasp onto,
absolutely nothing.
Sheathed in ice, the low branch affords
no hold.

2011-02-20T11:48:00.011-05:00

"Snow Scene" by Kyoka

I hope readers will visit Kyoka's blog, Endless Letter, and read her superb new poem, "Snow Scene".

2011-02-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

How straight
the trees have grown
down this gradual slope,
cast in sharp relief by sun, shade,
and snow.

2011-02-09T18:11:00.021-05:00

Mother
named the new moon
Fingernail. And it grew
fast and full-blooded until it
was clipped.

2011-02-07T10:00:00.001-05:00

A spray
of plum blossom
from a Japanese friend
arrives in winter’s inbox to
warm me.

*Click on photo by Aizu Taro
for detail.

2011-02-03T09:37:00.012-05:00

Buried
by the blizzard,
wrapped in a shroud of white,
disdaining the strange kiss that would
unbind.

2011-01-30T11:41:00.006-05:00

You two
poised on the brink
of mourning: feel and smell
the sweet breeze rising from the depths
of hell.

2011-01-24T09:40:00.009-05:00

to tread
the midnight snow
across a moonlit plain
is to hear the beating heart of
the hare

2011-01-20T09:30:00.009-05:00

her tattoo gun
a pen
the poem
bleeds a little
as it dries

for Chico

2011-01-15T11:34:00.011-05:00

the moon
sheathed in rime
does not distinguish
sleepers
living or dead

2011-01-11T00:00:00.006-05:00

the mountain
bend
inevitable
as the star
that birthed it

2011-01-07T11:03:00.020-05:00

Lightly,
the finest snow
falls on silent forests.
Midnight hillocks glow as if from
within.

2011-01-04T08:59:00.004-05:00

icy wind
muffles traffic
beyond the copse
where deer
sleep

2011-01-02T10:00:00.001-05:00

New Year’s Day
warm rain
melts the snow
swelling creeks
and roots

2011-01-01T00:00:00.022-05:00

lucky new year –
the White Rabbit
checks
his watch:
right on time!

For Chen-ou Liu, born in the Year of the Rabbit

Duet

2010-12-29T22:55:00.016-05:00

no single straight bough
can bear
the weight of nature
each one bends and leans,
making a whole tree

- Chico

a score
of note-bearing
limbs
raises winter's
blue song

- Brian

2010-12-26T03:00:00.001-05:00

frozen waterfall
its clouded life
suspended
to spill with light
come spring

2010-12-24T11:19:00.001-05:00

time slowly
moves
as winter
through gardens
gone to seed

2010-12-21T03:00:00.001-05:00

a lone goose
flies
into the snow
reassured by
its single call

2010-12-17T21:56:00.004-05:00

midnight
the red-eyed
star
a voyeur
at my window

I am reposting this gogyohka from earlier in the week to showcase the beautiful painting by Japanese artist & poet, Hidekazu Inoue. Hidekazu-san wrote to say my poem was the inspiration behind the painting. I am humbled and honoured but mostly I am thrilled! An amazing piece, don't you think? - BZ

2010-12-16T10:10:00.000-05:00

first snowfall
tonight
I feel
my beard
growing whiter

2010-12-12T01:25:00.002-05:00

midnight
the red-eyed
star
a voyeur
at my window

2010-12-10T03:00:00.001-05:00

forests groan
under
the weight
of snow-laden
boughs

2010-12-08T18:10:00.003-05:00

poems
like flash paper
flare
but a moment
in time

2010-12-05T10:32:00.000-05:00

my preference
is a matter
of the trees’
inability
to lie

2010-12-03T03:00:00.012-05:00

winter wastes
no time
refreshing memory
with brutal caresses
and dangerous affection

2010-12-01T03:00:00.004-05:00

stake no claim
on the winter star
whose long
dead light
has reached you

2010-11-29T07:54:00.001-05:00

as if waking
on the moon –
a luminous cover
of midnight
snow

2010-11-27T11:10:00.006-05:00

a bitter wind drops
as quickly
as it rose
do the trees feel
reprieved?

2010-11-26T16:09:00.001-05:00

ungently it ends:
beaten-down
by a grey-fisted sky
everything drops
with the temperature