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Best Poems Written by Hana Ryusaka

Below are the all-time best Hana Ryusaka poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Eden

‘Twas a grey november morning
When I climbed outside my window
To see my breath like dragon’s smoke
Swirl and dance away.
‘Twas bitter cold 
That autumn day,
And sickly sun wore mourning shrouds
Though lazy earth had yet to draw
Her snowy blanket 
To her chin.

I marveled at
The tiny leaf-
The last one to remember
Summer’s happy days, 
The only one to forget
His time was done.
Yet in his small defiance-
Prideful even in the light of death-
As he clung tightly to the bough
He commanded wondering respect.

And too
The blades of grass,
Idle maidens gossiping, 
Had not lost their bright greenery
To old winter’s paling breath.
For they had done with washing
Dappled cheeks in morning dew,
Now arrayed themselves in frosty gowns
For Autumn's final dance.
With cheery feet
They turned and swayed,
Laughing in their finery,
The wind as minstrel serenading
With whistling tune 
Them all.

Until the last leaf,
Old heart breaking,
Found that he could hold no more.
Slowly,
Slowly down he drifted 
To the forest floor.

Then with a crashing sound was shattered
The stillness of that dark, dark morn; 
And all the maidens wept in earnest-
Rent their lovely clothes in twain.
And as I felt the old man sleeping-
Dreaming ever 
In my hand-
I knew the magic of that morning
Had been torn away.

Sure enough, earth’s yawning
Fingers
Pulled upon herself the snow.
But still sometimes I think of 
Eden
Hidden in the folds of Autumn:
Longing, pining, yearning still
To whisper ancient secrets
To me.

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

What We Lose

It was a simple night,

she suppressed her own mindset

plunging self-shackled feet into their thoughts,

their eyes,

their thought processes, hoping to retain

some semblance of solace in the familiar cold.



-Reality is an infectious disease-


What she allowed herself to notice,

swimming reluctantly through the back of her mind  

made her breath ice, searing

winter-stains on the autumn-edge of her lip.

Love shook the decent little girl

scraping by her parent’s esteem and

dreaming in the dark reaches of her existence

of a liberty that wouldn’t leave her screaming

on her knees for God to banish all the monsters

from her closet, and the putrescence

of the memories that colored the back of her eyelids.


Love took her by the hollow of her bruised chin

and melted her into an above

where stars lingered like fistfuls of berries in 

explosions of stratosphere, almost tangling with her hair.


She felt the world and all her dreams

slip quietly through her fingers,

so she held his that-much tighter

and left the ocean-echoes in the shell of herself

behind.


-she won’t care if they ever wake up-

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Waiting

On a day where
    the rain
  attacks the windshield
only to be brushed away
    like an ill-timed rebuke,
yet caresses my face
    sweeping back my hair to unveil
  the intensity of longing caused by you
do you think of me?

My entire being sings for you-
My life resonates in your echoes.
    I will wait for you...
  will you ever come to me?

I dreamed last night of a kiss-
    that you leaned down to me
and covered my mouth with yours,
    wholly bound to me
  as if your tongue wrapped around mine
joined us more than in a marriage
    any lovers are.
Do you dream of me?

My entire being sings for you-
My life resonates in you echoes.
    I will wait for you...
  will you ever come to me?

When I first said your name
    it began to grow in me.
  On my breath
I hear the whisper of the words.
    My heart beats to the rhythm
of the syllables immortally
    impressing themselves on my pulse-
  in my blood.
Do you long for me?

My entire being sings for you-
My life resonates in you echoes.
    I will wait for you...
  will you ever come to me?

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Yet To Come

He can't reach her.

His fingers never 

brushed her skin in the rain

and yet she ripples.


Just one smile, 

two eyes and a soul that

breathes solace like lillies 

into her existence.


She feels herself 

unfolding like a butterfly

against the memory of 

what hasn't happened.

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Humanity

Translation:

Humanity

And so here I am
and here I see myself in white,
my skin -a midnight snowfall
where no one can stain me
with their footprints, their black footprints.
And so here I am alone.
The dawn sings to me uninhibited,
she sings of the kisses of the sun in the morning,
of the soft swaying of the stars,
their dances, their fiery weddings.
And so she sings to me in a still, small whisper,
with it she leaves me breathless,
the weight of the secrets of ages
fills up my mouth with ashes
that taste like the grave.

My tongue has become 
the voice of the ancients.
And I am alone
but I don't feel alone. 
Their fingers diffuse,
spreading out across my eyelids,
the dead resurrect like the sun 
in my eyes. 

And their wisdom in my face is a tombstone;
in my body, an Easter Sunday.

They fold in the wrinkles of a beggar woman.
They flow like tears from the open mouth of the sky.
They are sparks in the memory of children.
They hold together the stones of the Pyramids
and fill the cracks in the bones of the mountains.

And in truth our feet 
begin to decompose,
to unite with the roots of the world.
And in truth we are alone
but we don't feel alone.

We carry knowledge in ivory,
mystery, forgotten nostalgia. 
In our veins runs the blood
of warriors,
in our lungs
the words
of God.

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Four O' Clock, High.

Meant to be read over this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=dYQ_lse44gQ&feature=related

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i. 
        [clockwork rage]



goddamn
dried up
everything
even my saliva
is wooden

you don't 
know it

how homeless
and strong
I am
unbreakable
and so dry
everything



ii. 
          [no air]



can't sing
no more 
can't form 
the words
but I pray 
smoke

heavy smoke
thudding against 
your window
like a goddamn
pigeon

wrung
dry

all our necks
bared 
and strewn about
like dirty socks

this body is
a long 
white
stranger

death
can't feel much
different 
halfway between 

stood up
and fallen



iii. 
          [a whole heart, a whole heart]



but watch this
watch me leer
at the pretty girls
watch me stick
to the sidewalks
unwashed

unrecognizable
I'm dancing with 
fingers 
and with smoke

laid out 
like so
a dead fish
reeling under
the stars 
I'm strong

so strong now
I tell you
when you walk by
with another face
another face
another face

but you never 
listen
anymore.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is me reading -> http://vocaroo.com/?media=vbcUNSaOwuB4v7AVl

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Humanidad

Y entonces aquí estoy -
y aquí en blanco me veo,
mi piel -la nevada de medianoche
donde ya nadie me atraviesa 
con sus huellas, y sus huellas negras.
Y aquí entonces estoy sola,
la madrugada me canta desinhibida.
Ella canta de las caricias del sol en la mañana,
del balanceo suave de las estrellas, 
sus bailes, sus matrimonios de fuego,
y entonces me canta en un susurro apacible
y así  me deja sin aliento,
el peso de los secretos de siglos 
me llena la boca con cenizas,
que saben a sepultura.

Mi lengua se ha convertido 
en la voz de los antiguos.
Y estoy sola, 
pero no me siento sola. 
Sus dedos difunden,
repartidos en mis párpados,
los muertos resucitan como el sol
en mis ojos. 

Y su sabiduría en mi rostro es una  lápida,
en mi cuerpo un Domingo de Pascua. 

Que se doblan en las arrugas de la mendiga.
Que fluyen como lágrimas de la boca abierta del cielo.
Que son chispas en la memoria de los niños.
Que mantienen las piedras de las pirámides
y llenan grietas en los huesos de las montañas. 

Y en verdad, nuestros pies
comienzan a desmoronarse,
a unirse con los raíces del mundo.
Y en verdad estamos solos
pero no nos sentimos solos. 

Llevamos al conocimiento en marfil,
al misterio, a la nostalgia olvidada.
En nuestras venas corre la sangre
de guerreros,
en los pulmones 
las palabras 
de Dios.

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Raw Honey

She captures his thoughts 
and drapes them across her lips to
see what he tastes like



*I know I messed up the syllables, but it looked better like this*

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Empathy

I am not all happiness.
I am not as bitter as your smile
and I have no lips to make me sense -
to curve around my name and give
me more depth than the air,
than the dust I rise from
like the moon, night after night
chasing sunlight across the sky.

I am the antediluvian scrap of flesh
in the corner of my grandfather's eye.
When he laughs, I feel myself folding
with him into my own skin,
into the held-breath slip of sky
I inhabit, into this 
airless gap of eternity
where we live solemn together,
my body like an accordion and
his skin crinkling with all
the mirth of his years seasoned
with every war he encountered
and the salt that scarred welts
into his corneas 
time and time again.

He touches my face, and I purple with the bruises
the sun inflicted on the flaking-parchment 
knowledge of his skin.

We are love.
We are birthday-cake candles 
half blown out before 
the wish has time to develop.
We are hand-in-hand soldiers
and accidental splotches of red,
blood on lovers' lips.

We are a pattern woven through history,
sporadic and relentless
and beautific in inevitability.

And so we smile for each other,
secretive and mournful and gloriously
wise,
and we laugh at words that 
have yet to materialize.


**For my Grandpa Clyde... your stories always made me sad and happy at the same time. I 
longed for adventure like yours, and I ached for the pain you had to go through, and I loved 
and love you very much. I hope you never feel lonely again.

Details | Hana Ryusaka Poem

Her Eyes Hold Stars (For Maria)

There's so much to the world  -
fingers crack;
    feet 
        fall 
            through.

Her smile paints our sky
the colours of her iris -
mischief and white flame.







*written in exactly 25 words*