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Whirling with Fay

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Each haiku begins with a phrase shamelessly purloined from various haiku in Fay Aoyagi’s In Borrowed Shoes.
 
 


 
~~ 1 ~~
 
Hole in my sweater—
the shopping list I scribbled
slips between loose threads.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
shadow with no name
in a channel of the shelf
holding holy books
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
snip of the scissors—
her seven-years-long ennui
resisting the cut
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
A custody case
condemns their children to death
by separation.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
day for flying kites—
an inky one soars higher
than all the others
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
heat of the stone wall
still warming the lone fly’s wings
long after day’s end
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
first dandelions
and the smell of fresh-mown grass—
snow-day memories
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
For the butterfly
a single open blossom
will suffice for lunch.
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
A praying mantis—
will he soon capitulate
to the bumblebee?
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
Red quince blooming—
further delay makes no sense
to the hungry bee.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
Morning glory seeds—
one of them will generate
a thousand blossoms.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
a story inside
to render children speechless—
pomegranate seed

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #234
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 195

Still Life

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This week’s words: flames, yearn, immeasurable, safe, inky, bend, waking, still, erode, clay, sheet, pebble
 
The first line of each haiku or senryu below is taken from Shu Ting‘s poem “The Singing Flower,” translated from the Chinese by Carolyn Kizer.
 


I return to you
at dawn when you are waking—
still your door is locked.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Pounding at your door,
immeasurable horror
still clutches my heart.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Sit in the darkness—
as you brush the blue clay bowl,
bid your heart be still.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
On a speeding train
hurtling through the inky night—
be still, my wild heart.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Permit me to dream
of the things I still care about—
flames in the plum tree.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
My little basket
still holds a pebble and plum—
the plum is for you.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Your singing flower
cannot make me yearn for you—
still I will listen.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Come in the morning
when I am still ripe with sleep—
bend me to your lips.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
I reserve the right
to keep myself safe from you—
are you still amazed?
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
in the barley fields
harvesters still swinging scythes—
a sheet of lightning
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
My poems travel
in orbits that erode words—
still, they can be read.
 
~~ ~~ ~~
 
Guided by flowers,
I am still finding my way
fragrance by fragrance.

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Poetry Pantry #173
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 132