Long Kanji Poems
Long Kanji Poems. Below are the most popular long Kanji by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kanji poems by poem length and keyword.
Yi feng xìn
Dear Motherland,
hope meagre moments yet dance
throwing taunted thrills
to the fostering figs?
Dear Motherland,
do the sassy streams with flaps
on diminuendo and crescendos' rhythm
yet maintain the lusty lyric?
Dear Motherland,
does frolic Kanji dam
basked in mushy currents
wins the mercies of fame yet?
Say nought, dear Motherland,
moments are now cleavages of trance
dark dribbles suck their nectar
puking punctured alakazam
Don't freak out, dear Motherland,
technology's tongue poked had
made callous confetti
of salient streams and their rhythms
Be not so ashamed, dear Motherland,
I heard the nauseating tale of our dam:
he's aged, broken limbs with no staff,
and smothered wits balming his laps.
'20:04:26:18:40
Note: Of moaning motherland (Nigeria).
During war of gunfire and fear,
When the sky made the rain drops into tears.
Our Tamil mothers and sisters stirred the pot with quiet and trembling hands,
Kanji simmered - soft, thin and proud.
No feast of spice, no spice of pure joy,
Just rice and water, salt and a pure pain.
Yet in that round bowl, a pulse of one nation,
Beat gently through hunger and rain.
A scent of rice, the sound of rain,
A powerful prayer whispered through black night.
That one more dawn might be kind,
The one more meal might hold them tight.
Mothers waited by broken walls,
Fathers searched through dust, ash and flames.
Children sipped from rusted tins,
Too young to understand the pain and suffering.
When the war turned into dust,
Silence took the soldier’s roar.
Kanji remained - a taste of memory ,
Of the hearts that starved, yet asked no more.
Tufted white-tops
on pale beige staggered-stalks,
the coneflowers crowns
dressed the perennial bed;
leaning precariously against
the conical mushroomesque birdbath.
Snow, soft and wet wrapped the grape arbor like ermine;
making trellises reminiscent of Kanji on a blank page.
Fragile, frozen, flowers hung decoratively,
from frail clematis twined about cedar posts.
Brittle brown maple leaves, left behind by autumn;
drag branches draped,
as in bridal lace to the frosted tarp;
defying winter to do what fall could not.
Conifers cried under the weighty white down.
Their limbs straining not to crack, surrender,
snapping to attention as the day warms.
The snow plops pleasantly to the ground.
Winter waits patiently as the garden dreams.
forgive me master
while you at your desk
took private your thoughts
i dared trespass...
approaching silent
i slipped your mind
in the rays of sun
i came from behind
the master
and I at his desk
...forgive me...
Ancient stokes do see
hands on the brush
playing cards of kanji
writing on my skin
in the After of Life
blood of my ken
saying Time...
comes twice
this is the wHere
ink knotted to ice
tHere...
I saw the cobbler
fixing his shoes
and a chef was shot
but he knew it was true
three men smoking
knew this too
then a baby cried
in the heart of dogfen
and grandmothers dyed
turning boys to men
walking....
into Dragon's den
bare feet in streets
sleeping curbside then
"... we're all in ..."
said the Master's pen...
"Hot hot!..... oh!"
it's the Master's plot!
know! from my neck
it was writ! to show!
show the scrit
of the deck! it's true!
shhh... he said then
"...the card dealt, is u..."
Form:
Many times the ocean
has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea,
an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see.
The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide.
The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil
or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones.
Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own
scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform.
With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born
with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested
tested by the hand of He,
tested and found worthy.
The children of the Divine Wind
rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.
A cathedral of cedar spires,
branches, lifted upward toward a robins' egg sky,
adorned the gravel trail;
on the way to the hot springs
deep in the heart
of the Japanese alps.
Fallen cedar fronds impressed the surface of the path
like kanji on an aged sheet of rice paper.
Further, upward, on the serpentine climb,
water danced, splashed , and roared.
Snow monkeys scampered and chattered
birds sang Heidi tunes.
Gaggles of tourists from about the globe
stared, enthralled, as the red faced denizens
preened; tactfully ignoring
the rude hairless wonders
making fools of themselves
gawking.