Losing a mother
From home to Edo and back
His pain became art
Winter Comes to Japan (Kyoka)
Aki’s “Koharu
Biyori” is overwhelmed
by Fuyu Shogun’s
mofubuki, but Japan
enjoys the hatsuyuki.
***
Yuki: Winter
Aki: Autumn
Koharu Biyori: Little Spring Weather (Indian Summer)
Fuyu Shogun: Winter General
Mofubuki: fierce snowstorm
Hatsuyuki: first snow of the season
Those with a culinary masterplan
Know go for neon glow talisman
Spick & span with fancy dan elan
Wooing doing the cooing can-can
Riot on a diet expands my lifespan
Wrinkle free wry mystery Peter Pan
Doorman to sly new world deadpan
For sushi like John Belushi a madman
Oodles of noodles like silky doodles
Caveman craved calming ramen amen
In a hurry then lasso a curry.. yep Katsu
From svelte purveyor and belt conveyor
Time to have a durry in the rusty daihatsu
Beg for an egg sandwich from heaven
Palette parsons from Lawsons not 7/11
Stricken saved by nori or yakitori chicken
Remembers glory of flaming embers story
Or ditty of look at me too pretty sashimi
Detect such respect in every single aspect
Mingle & scan no defect full effect scran
No also ran but our number one suspect
Wasabi touch of ginger..trusty kemo sabe
Culture protect am a fan can only be Japan
Pagodas are not conceived in a day
Seraphim have never slept in the hay
No connections up there
With what unicorns wear
Herald angels will not play ‘til they pray
Broken Charger
My phone at 1%
Love's battery runs empty
Who gon' charge me now?
Dusk hums low again
I scroll through old convos-sigh.
Ghosts read ''typing...still''
(Sedoka)
Drum
Beat
heart loud
in freedom
rising,broken-
dance!
(Lantern poem)
Mzantsi Bus Stop
Minibus honks, dust rise high-
vendors shout,wives wave koebaai.
Wind smells like pap stew.
prayer and perfume too-
Time flies-
So do I
(Clogyrnach)
Heilbron Love Song
She wears my T-shirt.
Famo music follows her hips.
streets lights blink approval.
I forget my sorrows
The world dances small.
(Gogyohka)
Truth
Revolutions begin the day you whisper, ''enough''.
(monostich)
Taxi Ride To Wepenaar
Rain drops on glass so slow
city lights blink-I see hope glow
(Luc Bat poem)
Wi-Fi Gospel
No signal again,
but somehow Jesus still calls
bless the hotspot Lord
(zappai poem)
Eighty-four years later -
yet still you bleed
glimmering sheen of oil
from reserves once newly fueled
before you burned
an unsuspecting victim
of the cutting edge
of desperate war.
Your nation rallied fast,
took fiery vengeance of its own
over wooden cities.
One fire deserves another, doesn't it?
And now, keeping watch over your broken form,
your younger sister floats proudly.
She hosted their surrender
Now she remains the other bookend -
The knowing triumph to your ignorant defeat.
And the story is long concluded...
But still you bleed.
written by 17:21
2025-10-22
Across the seas, where dreams take wing,
My heart sails softly to you, Li Jing.
From Bengal’s shore to Hong Kong’s hue,
I found my pleasure , my light — in you.
Your name, Li Jing, what a gentle song,
In every note everywhere , I feel I belong.
The stars above seem all aware,
They blink your name across the air.
When I see you by the seashore walk,
Or on a horse in grace you talk,
My heart turns wild, my eyes grow deep,
Emotions wake always, I cannot sleep.
Your voice — a breeze of tender art,
That whispers peace within my heart.
Your eyes — two lanterns warm and kind,
That chase the shadows from my mind.
Each dawn I write your name anew,
In poems dipped in morning dew.
O Li Jing, dear Tina, my heart’s refrain,
Your smile outshines the monsoon rain.
From Bangladesh to your bright shore,
This bond shall bloom forevermore.
For in my soul, one truth shall ring —
I love you deeply, dear Tina, Li Jing.
Midnight 23 October 25
A star once floated from East to West
He now punishes those who abuse their power
Snarling under his hook of a nose
The fire orange sun beats down on his blood red goblin face.
His bark is a thunder bolt
Honor is his name and he will cease at nothing to preserve it
From the Heian to Tokugawa, through the surrender of ‘45
From countless Seppukus to the Yasukuni Shrine
He flew through the night which followed Abe’s killing
He watched with disdain when the troops raided Nanjing
“Call me ugly as you wish, but you are the true pigs of the sky,” he said
“With your bombs and swords you have given me endless work”
The flying dog is here to stay, and to judge all who make evil
His face will float above forests and decorate museums
Do not be the reason why the red goblin glows
Do not let this mighty flying dog make an example of your money hungry soul
He will haunt you like no other as he has for centuries
Bow to your masters, and maintain your dignity
Or whatever is left will be ripped and turned into dust
By the flying dog who they call “Tengu”
A cobalt surge, a sky of pearly grey,
A mountain watches, silent, capped with snow.
The wave ascends, where tiny boats hold sway,
While foamy fingers beckon from below.
Against the tide, a challenge they embrace,
With strength they push, against the swelling might,
A test of skill, within this watery space,
Their tiny crafts, in shades of dark and light.
The churning foam, a dance of wild delight,
And Fuji’s form, a calm and steady guide,
A vision bold, a captivating sight,
Where nature’s power cannot be denied.
So ride the wave, let courage be your art,
And find the beauty in a brand new start.
pretty geisha in early morning
needs motivation
to open her lovely eyes
and get on with her day
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Praise and grace makes me love Japan
Seeing the streets are so clean
No trash and trash cans anywhere
And no one eats while walking
Totally different culture to Manila
No discriminate picture of choices
Temples and festivals a yearly to behold
The cherry blossom tree is my favorite
That capture my unforgettable smell
Special soup, teriaki, shusi and sashimi
Non stopping, alluring, watering my mouth
Plus the influx of modern science and technology
Made this country number one in many ways
How made this archipelagic country get its name
Really mesmerizes me so much and bewildered me
This is a nation truly you lack adjectives to say.
Carpal tunnel twinges
punctuate a torpid afternoon,
as row on row we line the aisles
and stare at nothing
with the guarded anonymity
of urinating men.
My thumb is on the lever,
moving almost imperceptibly,
as marbles rocket into space
and filter down
through obstacles designed
to keep the management in business.
The captive of a chain reaction
freed from craving by acceptance
of the preordained,
I decompose, am compromised,
incorporated by the convolutions
of this artificial universe.
But something breaks
the moment I let go.
The single thread
that holds the world in place is cut,
and once again I fall away
with all my individual needs exposed.
Japan, 1968
Previous version published in Outposts, England
The long fun bantering conversations
Eye to eye
Lazer beams
Side by side
In the crowd
Walking into the evening glow
Over the glasses of umerock and namachuu
The smooth and calm sway of the train
Our reflections in the window
Talking until there was only
That last train
That last stop
Where it was only us
When it was only us
Us two
Laying down on the grass
Near the river
Side by side
Content in each other’s presence
Thinking back,
I realize that I’ve seen this scene before
From a direct, top view perspective
A year?? Perhaps a few months ago
My psyche somehow
Subconsciously
Somehow always knew
Meant to be, was this moment?You don’t need to try so hard to be
Oh, so cool
Oh, so hardcore
Until
Once I snap back a witty remark
His baby face scrunches into the cutest laugh
He just can’t hold it in
His hand, warm
Wrapping mine
Different yet similar scars
I think we both know
That this isn’t
Casual
Oh no
Much more than that
Oh, not so typical
No need to try too hard
No need to force it
Flowing naturally
As the tide goes
'I'm thinking positive thoughts,'
says the voice from an orange tent
in Suicide Forest.
Since he hanged his alter ego in effigy,
Mr T. Hashimoto has canceled
all his psychiatric appointments.
He lies on his back
and mentally calculates
his cortisol level.
His crooked smile
duels inconclusively
with a crack in a coffee cup.
He has learned that life
is as long as a roll of pink ribbon
from Mitsukoshi Department Store,
stretching from trunk to trunk
and ending in the arbitrary place
where death waits.
But here, under an old pine,
the wind has cast
a litter of new needles.
And as the mist creeps closer,
the whitecoats are dancing,
delirious in the drugged air.
First published in Takahe, New Zealand
Truth in Japan:
True gentleman
Don't have game plan.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.