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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
There,
if your spacesuit tears,
death awaits.
“Armstrong, when he arrived on the moon,
must have felt the same,
though this is only
a hundred meters.
Still,
I felt a kind of
nirvana,”
said Jacques Mayol.
There,
if your breath falters,
death awaits.
Though he returned
from the deep many times,
in the end,
he chose his final dive.
He chose a place
from which
there is no return.
Nirvana—
a state of release
from suffering.
They say
a restless mind
disrupts the breath.
Even in the depths,
he kept
his mind still.
But in truth,
deep within,
there were waves
rippling all along.
When you dive deep,
not a single bubble,
not a single ripple
can rise.
Whether the world
a hundred meters down
is suffering
or peace—
I wouldn’t know.
Nor can I say
whether the world of death
is suffering,
or peace.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
Children
imagine,
but their imagination
is still not enough.
Many images
are preparing to enter the children.
Children
cannot read books with just words.
Without beautiful pictures,
they cannot enter the stories.
Without fun pictures,
the stories cannot enter the children.
Without books,
children cannot enter the world.
Without children,
the world cannot enter the future.
The world will not become
what children imagine.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
many farewells-
people look sakura p
e
t
a
l
s
falling into the river
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
It comes for me, too.
No matter where we are
in the turning of the seasons,
I will no longer try
to hide from the bird.
Because it pecks
at the edge of winter,
this world is overfull
with the force of life.
It is because
the bird comes
that the seasons
are beautiful.
It is because
the bird has come
that flowers bloom.
Let it ride the wind—
there is no need to resist.
The bird
is already on its way.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
Some people believe
that dogs have no words.
Perhaps they've never
heard the language of dogs.
In the heart of a guide dog,
there is language,
and in moments of danger,
appropriate actions speak eloquently.
The gaze with which they watch
their handler from behind
is language itself.
They communicate words
to those who cannot see.
Their quiet conversation,
though inaudible to others,
still reaches its intended listener.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
just floating in the sky-
o r
i
o
n
i s
right in place,
I'm just alive-
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
If Nothing Had Happened
If nothing had happened,
a simple birthday song would have been heard.
Ribbons would have been hastily untied from presents.
If nothing had happened,
graduation would have occurred,
employment would have been secured,
marriage would have taken place,
children would have been born.
The sky that should have been seen together—
where does it now stretch?
The darkened sky stole my tears."Quotes"
Under which part of this sky
are birthday candles lit?
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
At the beginning, a book is empty.
So go ahead and write it, before someone else writes something in it.
It's okay to make mistakes, and it's okay to write whatever you want.
There are still many blank spaces ahead of you in your life.
The book is waiting for you to write it.
COLOR MY MOOD Poetry Contest
Posted: May 24, 2025
Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
They say
Beyond the suspension bridge
Lies paradise
But beneath the bridge
I see people who fell
Even though they walked straight
They say
A comfortable life awaits across the bridge
Yet some are shaking the bridge
Making it impossible
To believe in eternal safety
Among those who attempt to cross
None guarantee the bridge's safety
And voices indifferent to the happiness
Said to be on the other side
Are disregarded
Why
Are they so fixated on the suspension bridge?
Why
Even though it's just reaching the other shore
Do our
Feet
Tremble?
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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Shinsaku Ashida Poem
Who said
that programmed sounds
can’t convey emotion?
Who said
that electronic tones
carry no warmth?
Who claimed
contemporary music
cannot express the soul?
When does
speech
become song?
If it can be told
without melody,
then say it—
just say it.
A voice
before it becomes a scream,
louder than a whisper,
found rhythm
in a melodyless
wilderness.
She bears
the sins of humankind,
and questions
her own people’s guilt.
Whether
the invader
will stop
marching as a murderer—
no one knows.
Merging
wildness and ancestry
into urban sound,
she waits—
within the song—
for a people
who will rise
and answer.
Copyright © Shinsaku Ashida | Year Posted 2025
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