That one lost their tongue
somewhere along the way
long ago, the sound,
doesn’t come out the same
anymore, so they roll it up
like a carpet containing
a nakedly dead body
of blunt words
like unplucked violins
untuned to how it all
really works
begging to be heard,
and the flowery prose,
purple and bruised
like over-ripe fruit
teeth rottingly sugary sweet,
is now seen
day-in-and-night-out,
struggling with ease
way too much
like madness overgrown,
the dense overgrowth
of language unspoke
hides glittering gems
blushing shamefully
more exquisite than
the now daily averies
all penned in babel
that flow in glass jarring
anticipated patterns
of suffocating
paisley prose,
the simple beauty
in the plainly spoke,
never again
to be seen nor heard,
the mercurial metaphors
birdfeed scattered
to the begging migrations
of petulant bluebirds
naughty nightingales
honey trapping
wet-beaked hummingbirds
all beating hearts
with their wild wind flapping,
tossing sticks and stones
to those tongue thirsty
kiss lapping, lap dancing
love parched, gargling
swallows
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Ryokan translations of Zen Death Haiku and other Poems
First one hidden face is revealed,
then the other; thus spinning it falls,
the autumn leaf.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This world:
a distant mountain echo
dying unheard in the Void ...
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The peonies I planted around my hut
I must now surrender
to the wind’s will
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Wild peonies
blossoming in their prime,
glorious in full bloom:
Too precious to pick,
Too precious to leave unplucked
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I persuaded a child to purchase rural wine;
once I'm nicely tipsy,
I’ll slap down some calligraphy.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The thief missed it:
the moon
bejeweling my window.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
The Orchid
Deep in the valley, a secluded beauty!
Serene, peerless, impossibly lovely.
In the bamboo thicket’s shadowy tower
she seems to sigh softly for a lover.
—Ryokan (1758-1831), loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Through virgin forests
And unplucked gems
Twisted vines
Thoughts do stem.
Stroll through winding trails
And I’m nearly planted
By the weight of glory
Pressing me into the earth.
Almost sprouting roots
And taking up residence
In the innocence of things green.
Step back, run home
Think about this maybe forever,
Famous last words.
In my comfort zone,
Where nothing satisfies
And nothing is better than me
Lenses only blur
And spinning the reel
Only lengthens distance between
Me and dreams of late.
Where my appetite can consume,
Crunching through anything
To enjoy a fleeting taste
Of something not even real.
Next time I’ll do it
I will spread roots deep
Shoot my everything
Into the richness of the soil
The only true kingdom on earth.
Keep my ideals high
So I can’t taint or splinter
Keep my foundation low
So I can stand upon it.
Finally find somewhere
For my teeth to be defeated
Turned to dust by a truth
So much harder than themselves.
To discard past experiences
that serve me not,
and finding wistful grace
that more love in my heart
enchants those I do,
then open fresh of pages
within this autobiography,
joy from random magnanimity---
untiring compassion
perhaps selfless,
to nourish trees of unplucked affection
18
Brian Strand
raven falcon dove
inks on the wing plumed unplucked
alight on the page
18.01.11
Composed for James Edward Lee Sr's
Haiku, I Love U
A dreamy girl hides her wishful eyes
under her fingers and white daisies;
who wonders what she's thinking?
Is it a wish or the surge of a feeling?
Those fragile dainty daisies of late spring
must be unplucked soon, and if she believes
her love is pure, it needs no further revealing;
will she revive her dream and put on wings?
down the aisle with dad
and promised margaritas
last petal unplucked
Not for the contest , but thanks for the inspiration.
Inspred by the love me/love me not flower,and you
She was an angel
Falling from the sky
She heal my heart when I was about to die
And in return
I paid her back with evil coins
Her heart was broken
And it could not be mended
Night mares and grotesque visions
Horrors extended
Now my mind is bended
When our time was good I would kiss her in the clear view of the sun
And to her
Our souls was one
She taught me the true meaning of living
Why I am here and what is important
What is not
Her hair fell over her shoulders like a cascade on a hill
And her breast was firm
Like petals which were unplucked
Her lips taste like honeyed wine
Her imagination sent chills down my spine
She had a mind of genius
My mind was minus
But I paid her pack with evil coins
When things got better
To suffer a life of misery and pain
Bended mind
I am like an oxen with no brain.
I can no longer live with shame
So I die again
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