“A plum does not resent the hungry man, but the farmer who planted the tree.” - from ‘Bullet Train’
~
breath …
of Aokigahara
shadowed … solemn
pressed upon twilight’s demise
as rouge on the face of dawn
like a plum blossom
perfect … pure
fallen from Fuji’s proud shoulders
to blush the cheek of
a water, tranquil
cool glass of grace and depth
giv’n such beautied blemish …
petals’ pink ballet
fouetté en tournant to welcome the
sun on a mirrored sky -
devoted dance for the new day
once …
among many million more
trembling a-branch
but now, for a whisper of wind
a princess, divine
blooming, bowing, waltzing for
the lord of the lake, Saiko
and the promise of
an early …
spring.
~ for my dear friend Sachiko ~
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 1, 2024
Categories:
tournant, analogy, friendship love,
Form: Free verse
Summer Holidays In Grannies
I remember the hives of summer
down in grannies place
and June's illusions bouncing on the lane
Unformed people floating on hot black air
There at the bottom of the Tournant Road
by the gap overlooking the glen
I would press myself against the dry stone wall
to look at a thousand beautiful things,
or rock like a pendulum by gripping barbed wire
Its wooden posts, ghosts, after forty winters
a bright sun to burn forehead and forearms.
Later, those arms will stick to the oilcloth of her table
but then I'll be listening to conversations
Words to the rhythm of a dying wall clock
as moths tap unheeded on her kitchen window
Categories:
tournant, childhood, grandparents,
Form: Free verse
I walked with heavy childish feet
Where galaxies of white Chervil towered
And asphalt ribbons did dance on air
dividing fields of early summer flowers
On that shimmering Tournant road
from Tynte Park cross to an iron hill
Blossoms in the June sunshine
staying so silent and peacefully still
Before me each cheating rise
a false promise to a child alone
With five shillings spent on a silver toy
to shoot black crows on my way home
Granite walls of the graveyard now behind
my burning feet soon rest on cooler slate
I will listen to the Stanley's hiss
and boil its sap with the last of that good light
I'd listen to the gentle swing, tick and tock
struggling to keep time on those balmy nights
While shadows eventually bury her black clock
As moths gather about her death stained light
Categories:
tournant, childhood, summer,
Form: I do not know?
Permettez-nous d'être ensemble. Le coeur ne devrait pas être seul, la nature ne le
permettra pas. L'univers est attaché par l'amour ... par la connexion ... par la
chaleur éternelle de passion qui garde la terre tournant autour du soleil, pourquoi
devrions-nous être chacun différent ? Prenez ma main, pas pour vous ou moi, mais
pour le monde lui-même .... cela ne sera jamais complet sans nous ensemble.
(translation)
Let us be together. The heart should not be alone, nature will not allow it. The
universe is bound by love...by connection...by the eternal heat of passion which
keeps the earth spinning around the sun, why should we be any different? Take my
hand, not for the sake of you or me, but for the world itself.... it will never be
complete without us together.
Categories:
tournant, lovenature, nature, passion, universe,
Form: Free verse
Ballerina of Tears
Rippled lappings to her toes
Every years perturbation returns
To stand in deep verdant edges
Grass bank cups the legend
Of a lonely pool
Dark wisp ashen hair falls
To head bowed
She stands the Lilly naked
Shawl of her own travail
Tears incur
Soft pressed closed eyes
Remember
Each drop caught
Waves scend slowly one by one
Away from her
And in gentle water cascading
Her reflection silken
Dances
In fluidities dominion
Demi detourne, En croix, Entrechat, Soutenu en tournant
Hold her finale
Expressions of another year
In heart broken sorrow
Fails by its gravity ridden
To release her
Categories:
tournant, sad
Form: Free verse