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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/757065-Green-Peas-at-Stake/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/2
by Joy
Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #757065
A poetry journal of everyday clippings
Free Photo


"The astonished muse finds thousands at her side." *Laugh**Laugh*
R. W. Emerson

I made this poetry journal because I like to play with words and lines and I wanted to put somewhere some of my practice work (or first draft) in verse, written--within a very short time, probably daily on the spur of the moment, with the idea to work on the entries later--with or without the help of the astonished (should I say shocked?) muse. *Laugh**Laugh*


Some of the haiku I have mixed with senryu, not only because I am not a purist, but also because I like to do what I like to do given what I feel at the moment.

Previous ... 1 -2- 3 4 5 6 7 ... Next
February 10, 2013 at 1:51pm
February 10, 2013 at 1:51pm
#774449

crows hop on the ground
like jesters in a king's court
swelled in flippant wings

February 9, 2013 at 1:43pm
February 9, 2013 at 1:43pm
#774326

night lifts up sky’s edge
and stars slip out of cover
a mine of jewels
February 8, 2013 at 9:59am
February 8, 2013 at 9:59am
#774218
rowing out too far
masts like arms rising to sky
dislocated boats
February 7, 2013 at 12:16pm
February 7, 2013 at 12:16pm
#774123
A Distant Memory

on elephant’s back
reaching to a ripped up sky
a wobbly howdah

Howdah: A seat, fitted with a canopy and railing, placed on the back of an elephant or a camel
February 6, 2013 at 1:02pm
February 6, 2013 at 1:02pm
#774001

flimsy butterfly
off the cocoon with no care
a silkworm in flight
February 5, 2013 at 12:30pm
February 5, 2013 at 12:30pm
#773925

on sweet fallen fruit
bumblebees tumble over
each other, feasting
February 4, 2013 at 9:38am
February 4, 2013 at 9:38am
#773809
morning birds chirping
with ephemeral delight
through all the sadness
February 3, 2013 at 11:24am
February 3, 2013 at 11:24am
#773698
ghastly moon hangs down
over the pond, bullying
its fractured ripples


February 2, 2013 at 12:18pm
February 2, 2013 at 12:18pm
#773623
with needle-thin itch
pivoting on mind's axis
a repeating tune

February 1, 2013 at 12:59pm
February 1, 2013 at 12:59pm
#773534
lifelines in my palm
clam building a pearl from grits
hermit crab’s shell game
January 31, 2013 at 6:35pm
January 31, 2013 at 6:35pm
#773460
Inspired by alfred booth, wanbli ska , I wrote a haiku a day (373 words altogether) in January, in my computer.
Then, I finally got the courage to put them up in my book. They consist of daily observances of life, be it human, animal, or thing. *Smile*
.
1.
reeds under moonbeams
like silver snakes hissing
at chills of nature

2.
I heard a loon cry,
a whooping lament, warning
“Head above water!”

3.
this strange, veiled yearning
caterpillar in cocoon
dimming, drifting words

4.
rain falls between bars
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
old wounds not healing

5.
old garden turtle
in his checkered shell tells me
all kinds of stories

6.
stumps wrapped in seaweed
don’t catch the eye of the world
such is fate’s presence

7.
red-breasted robin
carries a berry to nest
like an old pirate

8.
Wild emerald sea…
Siren songs searching in tides
infinite water

9.
mystifying jazz
tootling of an oompah band
flaming with passion

10.
behind frosted screen
politician orating…
rowdy machismo!

11.
snuggled in, yawning,
cat purrs off my foolish tales
for an encore nap

12.
A break in noon clouds…
To keep things at ground level,
puddles fill with sky.

13.
Hovering over
characters cast in world’s play,
on stage, this old fool

14.
lists nailed on the wall
You changed and did not tell me
wounds pile up like lies

15.
curled up in the tub
water churns against my skin
whirlpool swirls with grace

16.
rain drops on glass panes
barren land turns to garden
for yet-to-be life

17.
nest-building intent
wings folded back and resting
wren pining for love

18.
On the last hike south,
rivers carried loam away
while rain pricked our cheeks.

19.
gulls, in flocks and flocks,
on oceans of recurrence
rising and falling

20.
childhood gone for good
our son votes for gun control
promised lands in sight

21.
(01/21/1966)
Forty-seven years…
Happy Anniversary!
fairy tales shift shape

22.
facing up to skies
finding my swift inner wings
I’m taming lightnings

23.
Beneath rusting leaves,
lies the earth, dark, stabbed with trash,
a sign of our scorn.

24.
Snow’s revolution
traps a child’s shoe in bushes
by the riverbank

25.
desires disappear
where the highway does leg splits,
barbaric milestones

26.
bulldozing a road
inside the mind’s savage lands
while I close my eyes

27.
Full moon’s ecstasy
like a goddess charges on
as if it can’t wane

28.
I fumble to catch
the full moon through steamed windows
to light my shadows

29.
Tiny ants skitter
across the room, acting like
typical tourists

30.
a dream of a house
gingerbread trim, wood-planked porch…
I’m searching for hope

31.
I watch spider webs
how they sparkle in the sun
gossamer spirits




December 29, 2012 at 9:52pm
December 29, 2012 at 9:52pm
#769712

old dinghy on sand
stripped to a wood skeleton
no stern, bench or oars

content at sunset
a carcass of memories
old dinghy like me

 
 ~
December 18, 2011 at 3:36pm
December 18, 2011 at 3:36pm
#742041
Wish-like, white flakes in the night
imprint their logo, then
nest on the ground, letting
treetops peek through windows, to witness
exhausted dreams leave
ritual offerings for spirit gods.

*Note*: "Winter" Acrostic. Won Kiya's impromptu contest late last night. (12/17/2011)
September 30, 2009 at 6:59pm
September 30, 2009 at 6:59pm
#669902
We do not replay errors
or hide inside a bubble under water.
We do not dine in candlelight
or dry ourselves with designer towels,
but we make love to our memories
locked inside our poetry in a hutch
that opens to a desk that opens
us to each other. Then,
we pass the nights, back and forth,
as if sipping beer
from the same mug,
rejoicing in how
we built our family house.
January 4, 2009 at 4:55pm
January 4, 2009 at 4:55pm
#627796
The recliners are senior style
reconciling comfort and survival,
with covers getting weather-worn
under the sun, while they wait by
the side of the curb.
Do they discuss atherosclerosis,
kidney stones, flabby arms, arthritis,
and prostate enlargement, and tease
the credenzas and the mahogany table
with the unsteady leg?
Probably, they all exchange woes
with each other, comparing
pains and people, who used them up
and threw them out; however,
they seem resigned as they prepare
for the Goodwill truck to pick them up
for lesser homes, like those people
who grow old to perfection,
then melt away in forlorn places.

November 14, 2008 at 9:56pm
November 14, 2008 at 9:56pm
#618566
                   After hearing Sarah McLachlan on Jay Leno last night, which was Nov.13, 2008 *Laugh*

You run in the middle of the traffic to ditch
men with heads of frogs, refusing to own
yourself and what went wrong; although,
you’ll outlive your pain and the
just-too-damn-difficult forgiving of
the distances in between. Then,
when you come back,
you’ll still be covered with scars.
and you’ll still sprint to ditch
the carcasses on the black earth,
as Sarah McLachlan sings:
clueless and so high!




September 7, 2008 at 8:48pm
September 7, 2008 at 8:48pm
#605919
Everything grows on me, growing up.
To begin with, those story ideas--
shedding their chrysalis,
thoughts that sigh--finding no solution.
Then, the little boy next door
who is a man now, the population
of this town bringing poetry
and repulsion, and the tyranny
of shadows from each day
of so many years. My reflection
in the glass…so funny!
Who bent that many lines
on my face
like buried tributaries and
made moments flee
like obscene gestures?
Hard to believe…
Today, even Google turned ten.



September 7, 2008 at 8:45pm
September 7, 2008 at 8:45pm
#605918
The ant in the milk
didn’t go in there
by chance. Dissatisfied
with its lot, it
focused on the spilling
universe of white
in the glass. How paltry
that desire seems now,
when the ant is fighting
for breath?
Luckily, a wooden pick
comes to its rescue,
from the hand of one
who seeks nothing
after a thousand or more
such drownings.

September 7, 2008 at 6:04pm
September 7, 2008 at 6:04pm
#605895
Fickle moon
feeds the aloneness in you,
shining on flower beds, creeks,
waterfalls, springs,
hills, crypts, and boulders
to make everything sparkle
only to lose them
in an instant
to their shadows.

Proud though on its own,
just a rock thrust in heavens
by titans spuming fire,
it lulls you with night breezes
to make you shimmer
inside what you are not.
August 12, 2008 at 11:10pm
August 12, 2008 at 11:10pm
#601620
The way you twirled the wine
and sniffed, with a hint of prophecy,
reminded me of a man
I once loved, as if
I smelt the brine from a wave.
Then a fog covered my eyes
and I docked my boat
of antique recollections
with an absurd longing.
By the time you took a sip
and nodded, I was already
back in your presence,
back from an ocean
thrashing and swelling
without forgiveness.



128 Entries · *Magnify*
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/757065-Green-Peas-at-Stake/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/2