100 Poem Sequence
the waning half-moon fades;
in the pale sun's light--
the meadow remains barren,
a chill lingers in the air.
thick layers of fog remain
in this chilly dawn-
the only sign of spring,
the cry of returning doves.
some wilt, others open
frenzy of color-
beneath an uncertain sky,
as the rain clouds gather.
days and nights begin to blur,
seemingly one-
soft rhythms on roof tiles,
lull me in and out of dreams.
falling on the roof tiles,
lulls me into dreams-
sweet respite from this darkness
as the passing day recedes.
glisten green on growing leaves
from this zafu-
as thoughts too rise and fall
in shapes of time-worn currents.
behind these lingering clouds?
Only endless rain-
that splashes on my windows,
blurring both night and day.
the rain has ceased its pounding.
In renewed silence-
the chickadees are singing
as dawn breaks behind the clouds.
from amongst the fresh oak leaves
as the sun sinks low--
stretching the cloud blurred shadows
my welcome companions...
the moon lights up this path,
though casting such light-
it cannot move a fallen bud.
Will words touch from this distance?
crossing the imaginary;
beyond rainbow views-
wordless colors abounding
in between dusk and dawn.
the rising sun stays hidden
behind a cloud veil-
the voices of unseen birds,
linger with my fading dreams.
stretched across the horizon
rain clouds start to yield-
as the warming sun rises
touching all in its soft glow.
sing to the new breaking day,
as the sky lightens--
dark clouds begin to part
and drift off in the soft breeze.
the dawn sun spreads soft light
on wilting blossoms-
coated over with dewdrops
the morning rises and fades.
they reach upwards and out
spring flowers-
open petals, nectar offered,
their moment fades all too soon.
if soft blossoms did not wither
as the season turns-
each moment becomes more dear,
not sure when the last will fall.
as flowers burst forth and wilt
who would not wonder?
How many seasons will pass
before my life also fades.
where fallen petals drift,
caught in the currents-
the water's steady murmur
washes away timeworn thoughts.
cross the umber hued hills
moved by the breeze--
newly emerging leaves
toss rhythms into the air.
where the sun shines before dusk
a few hours behind the moon-
hidden behind rain clouds
where rising dreams mix with rain.
from this old office window
in night's shadows--
the sound of passing sirens
breaks this silent reverie.
under a starless sky
long past midnight-
lightning breaks my reverie
as cloud bursts send endless rain.
rain beats down on the roof tiles
as clouds burst--
they break the night's silence
and steal away my dreams. 1
evolving from bamboo,
in and out of form--
between falling raindrops
they splash and then are gone.
the rising sun stays hidden
behind a cloud veil--
the sound of distant thunder,
as the summer storm draws near. 2
waves crashing on the cliff face
where ocean greets earth-
if only for a moment,
before ebbing in soft foam.
where the black surf breaks unseen
as night falls cold-
calling to mind long-ago days
that fade away all too soon. 3
from across a great divide
where waves become foam-
as this life fades day-by-day,
broken dreams fill passing nights.
just on the horizon's edge
the pale moon rising-
lifts away the weight
of the day's endless pressure.
as clouds begin to fade
in the night sky-
the full moon now lingers
in the summer storm's wake.
that lingers on the water
across the river-
the tired wild geese call,
from the hidden bank side green.
stretched across the horizon
above the river-
where the lone cormorant stands
unmoving, day after day.
greets the rising of the day;
in soft song-
silent pink spreads across the sky
and beckons to the road beyond.
between steady falling rain;
the crane's cry-
breaks my silent reverie
of the one who is not here.
the remains of sunset fade
in a moonless sky-
the first sounds of falling rain
break my silent reverie.
even the windchime is still
as the moon rages-
ripples spread across the void
splashing breaking everywhere.
the air holds a trace of warmth
in a starless night--
as mists drift on the soft breeze
my spirit also rises.
the pines have become still
in a moonless sky-
no footsteps stir the leaves
gathered on the doorsteps.
etches crimson on the clouds
this early dusk--
turns a colder shade of black
as each moment passes by.
where the crickets once called
in the moonlight--
only the scarecrow's shadow
spreads across this empty field.
blood red on the maple leaf
as fall leaves its mark-
so too her quick departure
etches color on my heart.
the lush leaves of summer
now dried yellow-
concealing the old path
where we once walked together.
the only trace of color;
the limbs of maple-
they too will soon blacken,
stripped bare by October storms.
the redness of maples
glistening-
in the softness of moonlight
where they rest on green ivy.
rising slowly skyward,
a heron-
seemingly motionless
white against the sunset.
a cormorant flies alone
as clouds disperse-
the river reflects colors
of the early setting sun.
as you turn the corner
in a gust of wind-
the dried leaves are swirling,
my eyes blurred with dust.
this meadow where they flock;
the wild geese-
cry plaintively in the dusk
and stain the grass blades with tears.
above the frosted grass
in silent passing-
the breeze grows cold
as dusk turns into night.
looms gray on the horizon
as the year passes-
the song birds remain silent;
the cranes have all flown off.
sparrows on the maple branch
fill the sky with song-
do they mourn the passing night
or greet the rising day?
as winter rains continue-
who will take notice,
in your final departure,
that teardrops stain my sleeves.
the oak leaves cling to their limbs,
as if waiting-
fresh snow falls on the path
left unmarred by her footprints.
the sound of calling geese
above the river-
long clouds pass in silence
tinted pink in the dawn light.
stretched across the horizon,
many shades of light-
cast by a quiet sunset
silhouettes a soaring hawk.
mind smashed into smithereens
beyond time and space-
swirling frenzy of flaked white
spreads chaos across the void.
broken from the old chestnut tree
rests still on the cold earth--
soon to be blanketed in white
as silent snow fills the air.
the half moon appears shattered
like so many dreams--
they rise and brighten the long night
and disperse upon awaking.
such a cold and lonely place
from this frost-etched pane--
in solitary vigil,
the moon has crossed the sky.
dimmed by thickening clouds
before the snowfall-
the only sign of life;
winter wind's sharp sting.
the flute's song rises and fades
as sleeping dogs lie--
in the depth of winter's night
snowflakes fall and settle.
no sun streams through the bare trees;
only silence-
in a sky about to snow,
not even a chirping bird.
so full with radiant light?
It must have burst in pieces-
all these white flakes fill the sky
floating, swirling everywhere.
that the moon is made of ice
In its waning-
white sheets spread on the river
as if dropped from the night sky.
the moon rises full and still
as dusk becomes night--
its soft light reveals the stars
and reflects my quiet heart.
beneath a sunless sky;
rows of black crows
cast a pall upon the dusk.
Must night arrive so soon?
winter settles stone still
vague traces of dawn-
break along the ridgeline,
as the candlelight fades.
the stars are all cloaked in haze;
in this dark silence-
what signs of life remain?
Only winds that sting my flesh.
the sun burns strong and fierce
as night turns to dawn--
it spreads light through old pines
and mirrors this warmth within.
in the sunlight's soft pale rays
warmth spreads on my face-
as ice floats on the river
and thoughts give way to dreams.
above the ice-choked river,
a pair of geese-
breaking away from the flock,
vanish in the rising mist.
on the way to Mountain Gate,
fresh flower petals-
emerging in the soft rain
through a wall of crumbling stone.
the home of treasured relics,
new blossoms rise-
over the roadside wall;
perennial miracle.
where her heart now lingers,
as time goes by-
the moon waxes to fullness
in the same sky we once shared. 4
spanning this wind-chilled river
though day has risen-
the waters run black and fierce
beneath the cloud-strewn sky.
will soon give way to blossoms
Tenri village dawn-
where I travel alone
embracing smiles of strangers.
moments before setting,
the crimson sun-
burning ever so brightly,
mirror of this love-scorched heart.
where cherry petals are strewn
in the chilly air-
my unspoken thoughts drift too,
as another day passes.
of the one who is not here
this moonless night-
my only visitor,
the rain on the roof tiles.
made blacker by gathered clouds
in a moonless sky-
the candle flame flickers down.
Will it last till dawn arrives?
or an emptiness of heart?
The distance deepens-
between nightfall and sunrise,
maple leaves redden and fall.
my tears fall on dew drenched grass.
who will take notice?
Not the silent grazing deer,
gone among the pines.
in currents across this vast sea.
So bittersweet-
like the remembered sigh
of the one who is not here.
it shimmers between dark clouds
seeming incomplete-
like my unfulfilled longings
for the one who is not here.
sending bright stars into pieces
as their false lights fade-
diminished by raging fires,
reflecting your heart of love.
or fever that burns within?
What's the difference!
Whether asleep or awake,
smoldering flames consume me.
are they real of just a dream?
Passion's fire rages-
consuming my every thought
whether sleeping or awake.
as foaming waves rise and fall
in a trackless sea-
where might this ship be bound
in the wake of unbound hearts?
along the cold night's dark shore
moonlight shimmers-
guiding her quiet way
on the long path toward home.
broken away from the flock
a pair of geese-
soar above the windy cliff
as we gaze in love's embrace.
Throw it away...
after thirty years practice:
arthritis knees,
black crows at dawn.
so many phases of the moon,
marking passing time--
the candle flickers low
in the depths of this long night.
bare branches pierce
the ink sky
black clouds bleed snowflakes
in the chill air.
as the candle light flickers,
in the midst of night--
is that incense burning,
or the scent of fresh lilac?
mind in fragments shattered
what hope remains-
shared from distant shores,
the light of the one full moon.
clear sky and passing clouds
soon becoming night-
stars blaze in the ink sky
the middle way revealed.
in the midst of abundance
on these ancient streets-
where strangers walk alone
through the empty-eyed crowd.
though the vases stand empty
sunflowers remain-
a vivid morning yellow
in softened watercolors.
draped in ivy and cobwebs,
half-caved in-
where a child's dreams yet flourish
from the passing train window.
2- 3rd Place MountainHome Modern Waka "Summer Storms" Competition '03'