Long Geisha Poems
Long Geisha Poems. Below are the most popular long Geisha by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Geisha poems by poem length and keyword.
#cherryblossoms
no more cherry blooms
but now hens and chicks tell me
time never slows down
#lotus #tanka
from mud the lotus
rises to meet air and sun
its blossom follows
the path the lotus has honed
in wisdom showing the way
#ginseng
another year older
memories molder~
buying ginseng tea
#pagoda #cinquain
ancient
the pagoda
keeps its place within time
and cherry blossoms unchanging
it sits
#bonsai
how many generations
have cared for you
now shall I
#geisha
moon light shadows
and the rustle of silk
geisha
# samurai
daughter of the samurai*
your story still carries to us
in the song of the wind
*The daughter of the samurai Jo no Sukemori, Hangaku Gozen raised an army in 1201 to help overthrow the Kamakura Shogunate, but was defeated and sent to Kamakura for execution. The Minamoto warrior Asari Yoo saved her life and married her.
A geisha today a convict tomorrow
My mouths are all speaking
Blah Glad and Hah Sad
I cannot hear them for I am done
Broken and cracked, an egg of myself
A cowgirl whose nose is out of joint
A different smell than others have
My green eyes are a glory to my face
Looking at me from a mirror
Only I understand, and no one else can see
I am holding things together with
A pretend hand.
Secretly conducting a mariachi band.
A geisha today, a convict tomorrow.
If you knew what I was thinking
You would be ahead of the game.
I have mouths that listen and a nose
That speaks. I have eyes that don’t see
The cracks at all, loving myself
In spite of the blah glads and hah sads
I am all I have got, and it is more
Than enough.
A geisha today, a convict tomorrow.
(The Japanese geisha Madam Butterfly
had a brief romance with an American
naval officer, whom she regards as her
husband, and whom she expects will
return to her. She is tragically mistaken.)
Oh, are you crying, son? But why?
It doesn't help to groan and grieve.
The only thing is to believe.
Believe with me, and watch the sky.
One fine day I'll see his funnel,
breaking the horizon's line.
That day is going to be so fine!
No more shadows, no more tunnels.
So manly in his clean white suit,
he'll steer towards my harbour wall,
earnest, eager, ardent, tall,
his cannon firing in salute.
Is this him now? I saw him first!
I won't go running down the hill:
it's better to stay seemly, still,
even though my breast could burst!
The lotus bloom, true to beauty,
must guard its dignity, serene.
My fate, to wait with gentle mien,
the passive, pliant geisha's duty.
Mistaken, am I? So, so, so.
Then we must steel ourselves, and wait.
One day, framed in the bamboo gate,
I'll see my husband. This I know.
Just when it seems it cannot be,
when crippled hope has left me weak,
I'll hear the bamboo hinges creak -
Lieutenant-San has come for me!
"Can you guess who's here?" I'll cry,
a-tremble as I smooth my hair,
no more foreboding or despair.
I'll run to greet him, nervous, shy.
American, and tall and brave,
he will call me "baby-wife",
and, just like in the other life,
I'll feel protected, nurtured, saved.
"My Butterfly, my forest fern,
my orange-blossom," he will say.
This will happen, one fine day.
You mark my words - he will return.
Getting lost in the wake of a beauty so exotic
Warm balmy night promises speak from her beckoning eyes
Ensnaring themselves in a web of sultry desire
As heady perfume of white jasmine permeates night skies
Playing the leading lady the Oscar is always hers
Perfect crimson lips set in porcelain skin perfection
Hypnotic blue eyes seduce bringing them down to their knees
Mere shadows of themselves left in its luminous reflection
Entrapped by shadows - A lady of chastity she is not
Embracing dusk welcomes her in it's ever watchful sight
She the mysterious mistress that women love to hate
Forbidden fruit for their men - She is the Lady of the Night
The highest bidder always wins her - she cares not who
Seductive and sultry or sweetly naïve and innocent
She plays the game well - whatever the gentleman fancies
To gifts of extravagance offered - she is indifferent
But when the games are done and she's alone in her chambers
For the one who stole her heart she sends out a lonely cry
Even though she has everything money can possibly buy
Her love is not for sale
It belongs only to the one who took it away
And bid her goodbye
Music Video - Memoirs of a Geisha - Sayuri's Theme FULL
'The Memoirs of a Geisha' Official Soundtrack featured Yo Yo Ma performing the cello solos, as well as Itzhak Perlman performing the violin solos. The music was composed and conducted by John Williams. Published on Nov 22, 2009
At the break of Dawn, she poses in place,
as a rising sun stains the night sky pink.
And my artistic hand begins to race;
sketching her features with charcoal and ink.
Ebony, outlines, mesmerizing eyes,
as if she stepped from a fantasy dream.
And as cotton-candy clouds tint the skies,
gilded shafts of light make her aura gleam.
With her white face as featureless as smoke:
colored silks adorn this porcelain doll.
And as my muse guides my every brush stroke:
I'm inspired to try and capture it all.
A Japanese Geisha touts perfection;
nothing about her, invites correction.
Come along with me as I journey East
where fragile cherry blossoms flutter
before raining down from cloudless skies.
Let's climb majestic mountains whose crests
are always laced with crowns of snow.
Here, the scent of jasmine is caught in a breeze.
Bonsai forests hold ancient secrets of long past civilizations.
We will see dragons who seem to soar beyond the moon,
then take the shape of koi with the rising sun.
Listen as bamboo chimes sing in windswept percussion.
Their hollow voices reach across Tokachi River.
Legend says it was etched by the flowing tears
of a young Geisha who cried all night
when she saw her red-budded lips mirrored in a lake.
It's now a sacred place where lovers often meet
when the hint of a sanguine sunset fills the sky.
Their whispered words of passion's promises
are drowned in roars of towering waterfalls.
Say you'll come and we'll fly amid flocks of crane,
across paddies and valleys of lush green,
then feast upon crispy roasted duck
before we lick our fingers clean of Hoisin.
Sleep will find us beneath a blanket of willows,
and we'll gaze in awed wonder when we wake,
at the most exotic land of splendors we've ever seen.
We'll surrender promises that one day we will return,
for this is where our hearts now wish to dwell.
Give us brushes and canvas; paints of boldest oils
to capture the Oriental beauty, naked before our eyes.
July 1st, 2017
Exotic Places
by Debbie Guzzi
A store in New York City,
Selling “bargains” at top price,
Lures the locals and the tourists
Seeking upscale merchandise.
Yet their famous shoe department,
Always crowded and self-serve,
Is so customer-unfriendly,
It hits every single nerve.
From the samples set on shelving
Much too high for short folks’ eyes,
You choose shoes that are appealing
Then you try to find your size.
All the pairs reside in boxes,
Shelved below the model shoe;
If your size and style are waiting,
You’re among the lucky few.
You remove your shoes while standing
(Seats are scattered, never free),
Slip the new ones on your feet
And start to waddle, for, you see,
Every pair is linked together
With a sturdy plastic band;
And when both feet are ensconced,
It’s hard enough to even stand.
Look around to find a mirror
(Yes, they’re also short of glass);
Shuffle slowly, like a geisha,
Or you’ll fall flat on your ass.
Then repeat with all your choices
‘Til you finally decide;
Wait in line and start to wonder
If this treatment’s justified.
But of course, you’ll be returning
To repeat the same ordeal,
For deep down, you’re just delighted
That you really got a steal!
Mysterious pulse of old Japan:
Oriental strides of nurtured grace;
Cultured impulse in mindful trend.
Painted faces with measured trace:
Years of training now fruit fine skills;
Motif graces that gently pace.
Merge with duty in kind goodwill:
Delicate moves put men at ease;
Fine robes silky as softness fills.
Walk on still air with radiant peace:
Sweet music floats in song and dance;
A touch most fair as charm funds ease.
Sweet scents abide in steady stance:
Fragrant cherry blossoms delight;
Hostess makes strides to flavour dance.
There is a heart that sees things light:
Whispers most sweet warm murmurs here;
Choice sparks fond art in precious sights.
Listen, art weaves sensuous cheer:
Know sure finesse in cultured ways;
Petals and leaves, poignant grace steers.
Geisha maiden livens sure sway:
Gentle yet firm with sacred code;
Courteous haven that honours play.
Evening comes by nature's mode:
To waltz the guests with tender poise;
Explore and sum the festive lode.
Feed special treat for merry choice:
Discipline tells in cultured plot;
Look to chimed feats with measured voice.
Geisha knows how to prime each lot:
Pulse of movement that entertains;
Swaying flows now with subtle thought.
Years of passion as purpose trains:
Looking to sculpt a way of life;
See pure action where intent gains.
Glimpse the lure of cultured strife:
Here by the gate on Eastern shores;
Costume feels sure a beauty's life.
Mind and heart sign in craft and more:
Body allure that tells a tale;
Zen-like fine art to unleash core.
Delicate moves in rice brewed ale:
Joy serenades the party mood;
Crisp movement grooves as freshness sails.
Bright moonlight streams a dazzling good:
Lovely looks flood the surge of play;
Dream follows theme in wine and food.
Strains of music dwell with verse say:
Song and haiku to paint a glimpse;
Rhymes string magic as movement strays.
Geisha my dear watch wordplay scheme:
Look to beauty that hides within;
Notice lines steer the path I dream.
Geisha maiden from times unseen:
Fine tapestry from ancient times;
Sculpted haven from ageless scenes.
Geisha looks quaint in modern chimes:
Face laced in paint as silk robes time.
Leon Enriquez
28 July 2014
Singapore
Through the bank account
over painted naivety
it is so intense just to be here
between look and expectation
knowing
I'm just one step from alighting
to be
your personal abyss
afford me completeness
in the same way that
high ranked husband
of well polished wife
pays to a prostitute
by the sadness of creator
using the silk ribbon
you are compressing my foot
(praying that it will stop the growth as the way you'll keep me yours )
I promise that I'll learn:
- to wash my hands in that lemon juice after finishing the portion of high quality
shrimps
- I won't applause in that gap between two arias
- I will pull on that poker face when your hand suddenly leaves mine while we're
standing in the street and you are asking me for an address as you are lost ....
sorry sir I can't help you, I am not from here
with naive faith-
secret is easier to bear in two-
piece of paper
adopted the image of birth
grey tiles
mannerly disinfected
under the glasses misplaced empathy
hand in the pocket of white coat
and naive faith
i guess there is no alternative
when the only thing left as your heritage are nails
i wish it is not the life
and that just a day went wrong
this way
only thing left is a label of
river
down which
no one will ever again dare to
release the paper boats
it would be better
everything
if only
it crossed your mind
to
tide my tubes
you ...
are my moon
(whisper me, coolly)
wan and pale as porcelain
milky moll - `china doll ...
dancing the sky like a Ginza geisha
stars tickling your toes
prettily petulant, and perfectly ...
imperfect
my moon ...
(whisper me, wondrous)
warm ... lemon drop on my tongue
teasing me to your fire
feral fool ...
I, the unwary prey - the Mandarin moth
charmed by your glisten
listen - do my wings flutter ...
or my heart?
moon ...
(whisper my name)
round and radiant - red as a cranberry
tart, sweet, luscious-lipped
dipped fruit, forbidden ...
peek-a-boo clouds of mixing emotions
stormy weather sighs
soft flesh pressed to softer ...
your kiss
my moon ...
(whispering madness)
beryl blue sadness and distant as dreams
obscured by brume and illusion
erotic suffusion ...
you pull on my blood like tidal bore
gibbous or gone
your glow is my utter apogee ...
affectation, pure
you ...
are my moon
(whisper your wishes)
I am magic, bathed in your pearly enchantments
face turned, or commanding my heavens
you are ever true ...
hues and moods in multitudes
all meant to melt me
to drip like honeyed passion ...
when you ...
whisper.
* This is a free verse form I invented called “LUNACRITICA” - I hope you enjoyed it! *