Best Unsteadily Poems

POTW 28 January 2018

Prologue:
A beautiful extra-terrestrial female researcher is sent down to a remote island to observe earth and beam her findings back to her planet. She’s strictly forbidden to make any human contact. She detests everything about earth.

A research scientist, in a small boat...

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i'm just getting started
unraveling the threads
of this tattered lonely soul
sewn so long ago

apparition's crooked hands
grapples the rusty needle
as she unsteadily threads the eye
...flashback to childhood years
where a mother ties the loop
of darkened threads
cleaved from her own spool

pierced by torment
of each aberrant stitch
i am sealed in...

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The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life pummels us from side to side 
randomly dictating its capricious ways 
lacking logic the tossing grips us and seeks to take our lives    

Death, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes and expresses a tale...

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Age three, crisscross apple sauce, hands in your lap.
Age five, scooting a few inches, to let whole class in.
Age twenty-three, fresh out of college, a brand new teacher,
Criss-cross applesauce in the circle with your kindergarteners.

Age thirty-four, sitting on chair, in crisscross circle with kids.
Age forty-four,...

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Watching you struggle,
 With the demons you hold,
Ignoring the life’s lessons,
 And all you’ve been told.
Shuffled and dank,
You appear out of sorts,
 Unsteadily perched,
 Rocking; back and forth.
Eyes of distain glaring about,
Moans of displeasure,
As if there was doubt.
Selfish, and subtle,
Ingesting such filth,
Silent surrender,
Of body; and...

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They were gambling in front of the house.
Manservants and pages bustled about
Serving Suitors who just curse and carouse.
Few mix wine with water. I heard one shout,
"Clean down the tables with wet sponges! Rouse
Yourselves! And when you've done that lay them out
Again!" Some others carve mountains...

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These are translations of some of the oldest Japanese waka, which evolved into tanka, renga and haiku. 

While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
—O no Yasumaro (circa 711), translation by Michael R. Burch

Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make!
Heaven's...

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The way you walk unsteadily,
But those wrinkled hands made dishes heavenly
Your words are straightforward, sometimes spicy
But it contains nectar with perfect quality

Tenacity of yours become an allurement 
Upon the reflection of the ideal mother on earth

I grabbed your hand in the middle of our walk
I...

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Dusk-gliding swallow, 
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers! 
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A bee emerging
from deep within the peony's hairy recesses
flies off, sated
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

That dying cricket, 
how he goes on about his life! 
—Matsuo Basho translation...

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Tuck into the public
private seclusion.

My aversion to inclusion
includes a stub, a tub,
a carelessly careful curation,
a velvet rope, a hint of hope,
a folding chair, softened and stickied 
by foam and frothing soda spills.

A not soundless though talkless time.
My not soundless though talkless time.
My time oh my...

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The Big Ben bangs!

Reminding me its twelfth midnight
Packing my things
Preparing to go home
Car keys on hand
Off to go, outside..

I looked up to search the smile of moon
Seeking winking stars even if strewn
Disappointed, they have gone too soon

Along the driveway, 
A sudden gust of wind
One by...

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The first soft snow: 
leaves of the awed jonquil 
bow low
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, investigate loneliness! 
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay, 
contemptuous of frost
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R....

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It was the worst division of life,
I was afraid and feeling lonely.
No one seemed to be friendly,
Even, I was entirely different from others.

I asked what the negative factor was,
Why I was a big jerk for others,
One after another, I had to face difficulties.
Heaven was there...

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I’m back in my childhood’s home 
in its dank and dismal cellar
walking warily, unsteadily down
                              ...

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The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life, pummels us from one side to the other 
randomly dictating capricious ways 
arbitrarily gripping our lives

Life, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes at night, tells its tale and is gone 
but the dues it extracts keep mounting
like...

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