THE LAND, THE SKY, RIVERS, AND ME
1.
The deeply-split body of the land
Looks up at the sky of rivers
The rivers of the sky
Are unable to wash off their sorrows
2.
The coagulated blood of the land
Has been sleeping for one hundred years
The soul divorced from body
Is like a illusion
3.
Returning to the grassland of stars in my fancy
The Milky Way looks like my mother’s milk
Riding on my father’s galloping horse
I am marching forward along the river of the sun
4.
My hands waking up with a start
From a dying dream
To look for the horsewhip my grandfather had lost
I am digging in the black forest
Hadaa Sendoo,
(MONGOLIA)
The Sonnets of
MOHAMMED FAKHRUDDIN
47
Oft I remember you, I know not why.
My passions get trigger off to sky high
But soon rising sea-tides drop down and freeze,
Till spring time gushes in, generates breeze.
Honey bee flirts from flower to flower,
Sing sweet songs of spring, dances with zephyr;
As dusk spreads its curtain, the moon alights,
Brighten landscapes, stars act as twinkling lights.
Man finds no time to explore things around,
Things within – Creation unique and sound,
Inner space, oceans, streams, blows hot, blows cold,
Powers of mind – a treasure trove of gold;
Know not how heart beats sync with love and rhyme,
Love longs for love, thoughts in words with words chime.
PEER THROUGH THE WONDER DEVICE
Fervent hopes flow to form colourful patterns
across the prism of my mind,
close-up of these patterns fill me with
wondrous delight and happy reflection
these myriad patterns end the cacophony
playing havoc in my mind, these translucent,
beady designs enhance my inner vision.
The gleaming mirrored surface uplifts
my spirits and surrounds me in illumination,
another view, different angle,
let’s me find spiritual healing in the inner hospice,
each segment stands out,
strengthens the moral foundation --
the colored glass pieces reflect out
the virtue and throw out the vice.
The magic of crystals help
develop a focus on right aspects;
magnifying the chances of success manifold --
viewing through the eyepiece
I see a future of bright prospects,
abutting myself to the inner case, opportunities unfold.
I peer thru’ this wonder device and I know for sure
that my mission will be completed.
As spiritual light reflects from innermost end,
these hypnotic designs pulsate with life
after several turns of this virtual kaleidoscope,
self-transcendence is rekindled;
coated with brilliant clarity I am no more in fear
of the inner ambivalent strife.
Chitra Lele
(Pune,India)
IRONY OF LIFE
The scientists are discovering new places,
They are planning to inhabit the planet Venus,
Nobody is thinking,
About the persons who sleep on footpaths,
Nobody is thinking,
About farmers who are committing suicides,
Nobody is thinking about pollution,
This is the irony of life,
We are progressing towards,
Our destruction.
Ram Sharma
(MEERUT CANTT, INDIA)
FULFILMENT
Endeared to the caressing twigs,
Fondled by the gentle rocks
That crossed the toddler’s course
She flowed down
From atop her mountain home;
The rivulet –a river in the making;
Slender; tender and playful;
A naughty hew marks her gait
As she steps in to adolescence;
‘Oh! Recklessly buoyant’
Exclaimed an elderly stream,
More collected in her wisdom –
‘What if, in her blind ecstasy,
She bumped into an unkindly rock,
Or, jumped down a tearing ravine!’
Gathering the straying one
Into her fold, puts her to learn,
From others; others of her ilk.
Now in her fullness; the fullness of a river,
She marched, winding through
Parched plains under the scaring Sun;
‘Life is not all play!’ - She thinks,
There’s Purpose behind!’
The tall green woods standing alongside
And the sprawling green meadows;
Smiling flowers and the ripen fruits,
Singing birds; the cuddling cubs -
All; hold her in reverence.
There’s ‘Fulfillment! The reality
- Of all Purposeful Existence.
G. Dakshina Moorthy
(Bangalore, India)
HOPE
Hope springs eternal in the human breast
Right from infancy, till one is laid to rest;
Hope that the sun will shine again
Through the cloud of our eyes dimmed with tears and pain.
Hope that the rose-bud will on the morrow open –
These prickly thorns, our yester-fate’s token;
Hope the sun’s glow over our heart
Pierce, burdened darkness — shadows apart...
Hope, that whilst on the road, we are not alone...
On the pathway of obstacles, His blessings are manifold;
Hope tomorrow, will, with it bring
Whatever our hearts believe and what we secretly sing.
Hope that this world will be nice and bright...
The hard times gone by which never went right;
Hope that darkened hours only come to help us realize
The gladness of the golden-sun,
The pink of the morning skies!
Rajmani Kumar
(Bangalore, India)
A FISHERMAN'S CHANT
We do not set sail today.
Let's go and see
The People's Liberation Army blowing up
fish with guided missiles.
Our land is here.
Over there are our sea areas,
The fishing grounds on which we make a living.
I have been fishing for half of my lifetime now
Only to find with a start
That I myself am also the flesh of the fish.
Schools of fish lingering in the East China Sea
Disperse in a flurry in the looted strait,
Pondering the meaning of Fatherland!‥.
Officials are unable to protect fishing.
Officials are unable to defend the land.
They nevertheless do not worry about
having no fish to eat.
Chen Hung-sen
(Taiwan)
WAKE UP CALL
I woke up to a gentle tap on my head,
And saw, a shadowy figure sitting on my bed.
He was calling out my name in a gentle way,
Beseeching me to wake up and not in my dreams sway!
He was urging me to get up and look around,
Where hatred for each other growing abound!
He questioned me whether I want to be a part of all these.
Knowing my answer, he said, get up and seize
All the opportunities and work hard to bring peace
And to the beaten and battered, bring some solace.
Leading one’s own normal life is all, everyone does,
But do not understand that there can be nothing worse.
You are not born to live only for me, me and mine
You are here to bring, a lot of sunshine
In others lives, so wake up and start living.
And to bring happiness to others, start striving.
I get up, wondering who this shadowy figure was,
Lo and behold, it was m own conscience crying out loud.
Vidya Bhopi
(Bangalore, India)
A FISHERMAN
My fishing boat struggles against surging waves.
The vast sea
Is the world where I make a living.
I set sail before dawn
And keep myself busy until midnight.
With a single sail, I go everywhere.
I catch fish and shrimps against waves.
I have weathered through storms all of a sweat
To make a living.
I never grumble.
The sea stretches to the horizon.
A boat and a fishnet
Are my family heirlooms
That enable me to brave adverse winds
and waves to fish.
The vast sea is like land.
Spreading the fishnet is like plowing the field.
Struggling against the waves, I sail everywhere.
I never lament my own suffering.
Dauntless and resolute,
I am a young fisherman.
Huang Ching-lien (Ng Keng-lian)
(Taiwan)
MUSICAL RETREAT
Unmindful of the dust
Filling their abode by the way-side
Sat the womenfolk of the gypsies
Wearing tattered embroidered clothes
Grubby tots suckling their ample breasts
Back-bent-burnt of wife-beating perhaps
Their deft hands weaving
Colourful gleaming carpets
Gossiping merrily, laughter
Rhyming with their colourful
Bangles tinkling!
Dancing to the tiny boy’s band
The little girls running around!
The men folk wearing coloured turbans
Smoking away to glory!
Living in tents – bathing in the rains
Laughing away at the sun glaring!
Worrying not of yesterdays and tomorrows
Many gone and many yet to come
Cursing not the time and tide
Living for today!
Those thatched tents
Reverberating with laughter
Soft crooning of a mother
The singing bangles
The dancing anklets
A virtual visual musical
Spiritual retreat this –
God’s lovely gift to these children
Here today gone tomorrow
Life moving on leaving behind
Those abundant colours radiant
Shimmering carpets
Grim reminders of these deft hands
Waving gleefully to bygones and yet-to-comes!
Vasudha Murthy
(Bangalore, India)
THE PORT OF TSOYING
A big black swan flops down into our port.
I see the pink webs on its feet.
It first bends, then pushes away water
To cover the setting sun with its body.
With light control of the military exercise,
The black swan moves slowly,
Stretching its elegant neck,
posing a curvaceous figure.
It rubs my sweating pupils with blackness.
When the signal light flashes,
The black swan is gone.
But with flapping, it has enlivened the port.
Taking off helmets, the port of Tsoying is
Filled with fluttering feathers,
When the dark night carries a lamp to descend.
Wang Chi-chiang
(Taiwan)
SHADES OF DELIGHT?
A memorable scene
Of human emotions
A family with no means
For two square meals
A metropolis with lush greens
And city with concrete jungles
A baby suckling milk
No milk in bottle or in body
Bare footed school children with no uniform
Tiny tots gazing price list at sweet meat stalls
No free place and pollution reigns
Khadi, khaki and saffron clad persons
Committing all sins and crimes at spree
Escaping from all clutches of law
Gun boat politics, honouring imposters
Still there are many shades to scribble
A.L. Shamarao
(Bangalore, India)
MY OBSERVATION OF THE SEA
Time stands motionless facing the vast blue
Outside the harbor of Hualien
By the Pacific Ocean.
The marvelous sea
Sometime glistens charmingly golden codes, and
Sometime delivers the sobbing of the sea song,
the beacon, and shark-hunters.
For a long time
Only the sun and the moon rise and set punctually.
Only dolphins are stranded on occasion.
Only the Kuroshio keeps flowing.
Anyone would lift up his voice and sing
While strolling on the faulted seashore in the wind.
Anyone would jump into it
To embrace the magnificent beauty of Formosa.
In summer brown fishermen squat
on the dock as usual.
On the boat the tourists enjoy watching whales
And dolphins dancing in the waves.
Between the bright sea and sky,
a solitary shadow remains,
Listening to and longing for
A fake killer whale's secret murmuring
In the center of the distant sea in boundless quietude.
Yang Ping
(Taiwan)
HOPE FOR THE LOST ONES*
The struggle for private happiness.
To achieve temporary desires.
To burn with passion for external things,
To catch the slippery power,
Is the bane of the Modern Man.
Is it possible to conquer fate?
With the ever increasing
Attractions and distractions!
Is it possible to free the mind?
Free it from the wanton tyranny,
That rule the outward life,
Undismayed by the empire of chance?
Tortured by the weariness and pain.
Can we lighten sorrows, grief?
By the balm of sympathy.
To give to sufferers, the oppressed.
The pure joy of a never tiring affection;
To strengthen failing courage.
To instill faith in hours of despair.
Can the spark of divine fire, be kindled
In the hearts, with brave words?
(Thanks to Bertrand Russel “A Free Man’s Worship)
S. L. Peeran
(Bangalore, India)
THE PHILOSOPHY OF A HERMIT CRAB
God provides me with a pass in the sea.
Plants emerge before my protruding
eyes on the seaside.
From this horizon to that horizon
On the dune at the edge of the universe I gaze at
The sun, dissolute yet weary, sinking into the sea,
With its astonishing twilight adorning history.
I am a smart hermit crab.
I open my shell symbolic of truth,
Taking note of all suspicious.
God provides me with a pass in the sea,
And claws and feet extending to palpi.
The alluring sounds of tides resound
around my ears,
Between the ebb and flow of the sea.
The jelly fish float on the water eating
And other crabs are busy with making
holes as their bases.
Haughty birds hover chirping,
Taunting shells' embrace of prejudice.
Life is so heavy and cruel.
I am an unyielding hermit crab.
God provides me with a pass in the sea.
The sea resembles an emerald
－lustrous mirror.
A compass emerges in my brain.
I carry a heavy yet beautiful cross
That only enhances my forbearance.
As I observe myriad things with wisdom,
I comprehend the foolish masks
of human beings
And the joy and sorrow of death even more.
I bear witness to the splendor of life.
I am a wise hermit crab.
Chiang Ming-shu
(Taiwan)
ON WASTE PAPERS
I am used to writing poems on waste papers
The beauty and sublime of a poem
Are in the text itself, not in the media
This is a truth simple enough
Some are concerned about environmental pollution
They print in brilliant nice paper with garbage scenes
Stained with dirt in beautifully-designed media
Not stingy in wasting natural resources
Justify their attack on ecological destroyers
As Taiwan falls into self-dissolution and self-
subversion dilemma
A poem is to seek beauty in ugliness, life in death
To plant hard-to-see gracefulness in the dirt ground
One should know some write poems in words
Some sing out the substance of poem with labour
and production
And some fill out the blank of epics with their lives
And a poem is also the practice
of meanings not only beauty
Any form of waste is not the deed of a poem
I am not intended to write poems on waste papers
I just want to call for satisfying
with the habit of self-restraint
And living on the intention not
to increase the load of the Earth.
Lee Kuei-shien
(Taipei, Taiwan)
TANKA
Man, woman living
Together – without marriage
Mind – tear and torment
Both of them live in dark hell
They cannot come out of it.
N.P. Singh
(New Delhi, India)
ORNAMENTS
A HANGING SCROLL
I have hung a picture scroll on the alcove wall.
In the picture is painted a lone field in fall,
So lone as to let me shed tears plentifully.
I roll up the scroll roundly and hide it deeply.
AN ORNAMENT IN THE ALCOVE
I’m an ornamental doll set in the alcove.
I gravely, affected sit in the alcove.
I wish that someone would speak to me with kindness.
All afternoon in spring is filled with tranquilness.
Kazuyosi Ikeda
(Osaka, Japan)
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Transcendental philosopher
and poet who at first lectured
sapphire travails to impale
the consciences within the churches
of Boston before the doctrine of Self-Reliance
captured your imagination like
the flight of an albatross forcing you
to reject the rigid sacraments
of the past, pleading that
individuals must seek freedom
from man-made chains
and maelstroms of history.
You traveled to England where
you made Thomas Carlyle your mentor
and became the first American writer
to sow seed into European thought.
You settled in Concord where
you became a spokesman for abolition,
believing that all men should be free
in both body and mind.
Ruth Wildes Schuler
Novato, CA , USA)
BUTCHERING TIGERS
I brandish a sharp knife.
In the sounds of killing and grumbling
Those collapse in the pool of blood
Are neither cows,
Sheep,
Pigs,
Fowls,
Heinous criminals,
Irreconcilable enemies,
Nor Traitors who forfeit and humiliate
the nation’s sovereignty.
But it is simply
A caged tiger that
Has lost the world
And been exhausted like a sick cat.
All people want to protect,
But I alone will butcher the tiger.
Tiger meat is sold for eight hundred
dollars per catty,
Its blood two thousand dollars a bottle,
Its bone five hundred dollars,
Its gall five thousand dollars,
Its tail approximately thirty thousand dollars,
and
Its hide over a hundred thousand dollars.
Anyhow,
Its flock has dispersed
And its might vanished.
Its teeth have become blunt
And there is no hope for cubs.
The caged tiger
Is not different from an ant beneath a finger.
To kill it at this moment will be fine.
Kill!
You all gnash your teeth,
But I kill my tiger.
After selling it all,
I will butcher another one tomorrow
Hsiang Ming
(Taiwan)
A SUITE OF OCEAN
(1) The Beach
The sunset kissing the beach passionately,
But the beach responds softly
To a pair of footprints of a traveler.
The sound of the tide led her here,
And she had dreams of a girl ever since.
(2) Shell
I take destiny
Composed into a little song
With or without moonlight;
The tide will always tap
On the little window covered by lime
As it accompanies my drifting rhyme.
(3) Spindrift
A girl with little step dancing
At the moment when two eyes make contact
Sprays a floor of colored glaze.
Tsai Hsiu-chu
(Taiwan)
IN SEARCH OF YOUR SOUL
Your whole body is there for me to probe
But who will this earthly firmament disrobe
To reveal your soul?
Can I peel it
Layer by layer?
Seek your love
In gradual steps
Will it reveal
Innards of your Being?
Your soul?
Or will it be
Like peeling the onion?
Lose you,
Your Being
In the process of finding.
This then is the story
Of your soul, your Being
My soul, my Being
The universe as a whole.
Nayeem Ullah Khan
(Bangalore, India)
PEACE IS DEAD…IN MY HEAD
All I see is the sand that surrounds me
All I feel is the calm & tranquility
The restlessness of the sea
…now the calm of the sand
The bustle of my thoughts
…now the calm of my soul
Don't want to close my eyes,
the darkness questions me
Don't want the light to see through me
Wish to get away, from all
the thoughts & memories
To tell myself, "it is perfect-
how the world you perceive"
Even the seas want to be with me,
into the deep
Even feel I am out of the ordinary
The sand sweeping away…
jittery but still on my own two feet
Those who betray me…
only they could have set my thoughts free
Don't want to look down, t
he restless waters trouble me
Don't want the blue to fade
….into dark seas
Wish to get away from all
the deceptions that stole all peace
To tell myself, "it is perfect-the life
you now lead"
Footprints cannot be left behind
on this sandy shore
Footprints are just another way,
for your past to lead you to your door
The sand can't be crushed beneath you…
it just can't allow you to
The memories & perceptions, to rout them…
I just can't allow you to
Only want to close my eyes,
let the darkness question me
Only want the light to see
right through me
For its He who cares for me…
why are you bothered instead?
Peace in my head…better be dead
Pulkit Khanna
(Delhi, India)
POETRY MANIFESTO
Yes , a poetry must be
an unexpected thing ; perhaps silly.
A nightmare or a dream.
A craft , a paper art.
Why bother for something more.
The why , the how
and the what of poetry .
May it be black and white or bloody .
Or let there be VIBGYOR
paper poems .
Vihang A. Naik
(Ambaji, India)
LONG LIVE APARTHEID
It was not a wild fire,
It was the fire of innocence,
Youth, merit and justice,
And knaves were counting their votes.
They were not the brokers of social justice,
They were not the paid ponies of secularism,
But it was the truth burning for justice,
It was the merit crying for honor.
The knaves were dancing on their pyre,
Waiting for another pray, to be burnt alive,
They were cruel masters and have no pain,
Butchers were shining the dagger to stab merit.
They died for justice, vultures live for injustice,
They died for merit, they live for destruction,
They died for truth, they live for farce,
They died for the nation, they live for decay.
Remember it was not a simple fire,
The hot blaze will burn the knaves,
One day the butchers will get the message,
Or else, as in the past, nation will be devoured by slavery,
Ah God we shall be true to our nation,
Long live constitution of India,
Long live our racial leaders,
Long live apartheid’
Y.K. SHARMA
(Delhi, India)
DO NOT ABANDON ME
My dizzy head
on your ungrudging lap,
you once whispered
into my ever eager ears:
“It was our loneliness,
my love, that brought us
together, legal though
only to our hearts.”
Time is a destroyer.
He can make a slave
a boss, a boss a slave.
A husband a lover,
a lover a husband.
A beloved a stranger,
a stranger a beloved.
Back to your licensed man
you are no more lonely.
Do not abandon me
to my loneliness forever
and let not cruel Time
play his havoc on me.
P.Raja
(Pondicherry, India)
SURRENDER
at times you find it odd
And wonder if there is a God
Above watching over us
To protect us from calamities as such.
When in one moment your loved ones are taken,
Your faith in God is shaken.
You feel bereft, alone, rudderless,
Because of the suddenness
Of the catastrophe so huge
That there is a never ending deluge
Of tears pouring from the eyes
As you say why me, why me, and cry
But human spirit is tough
It is tested when the going is rough
You first deny, then get angry and cry.
But at the end of it all you try
To accept the inevitable
And make efforts to make your life stable.
Truth is, nothing in life is permanent but change
So said a wise sage.
Rochishmon
(Chennal,India)
CARNIVAL
Performers all in the world's carnival,
We participate in its festival
Sideshows, carousels, games of chance or skill,
Win some; miss some, a decreed span to fill
Events unfold, new vistas come to view,
Prance along merrily or fume and stew
Life's roller coaster dips, turns, falls, rises;
Never at rest, is full of surprises
Launched on its trips as it careens and tilts
Gripe through the ride or delight in its thrills
The whirl goes on, pausing only the while
To offload those who have done their last mile.
The circus goes on, we cannot bid adieus
No, not until we have paid off our dues.
Shernaz Wadia
(Pune, India)
RED SALUTE , COMRADE
The biggest square of the world
Preserves the greatest of its heroes
With clenched fist, raising the arm
The world salutes you ,comrade!
You were not born with a silver spoon
Not in the line of the deadly dragons
You perceived a People’s vision of China
And worked your way through history’s legions
You paved your way through an uneven world
And tried to straighten the wrinkles on its face
It did require heat and force
That too was done with a revolutionary grace
The world requires an uprising a fresh
To put in order the disparities great
To erase from the world Imperialism’s name
And declare all exploitation humanity’s shame
H.S.Chandalia
(Udaipur, India)
|
HAIKU
Forced to take a dip,
In calm biting chill waters;
There’s no way to skip.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Nightingale keeps quite,
When the crows caw in the woods;
Night turns milky white.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Negative forces,
Block all the routes to success;
Zero resources,
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Strike balance and move,
Rhythm of heart beats lead all,
To success with love!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Trust yourself and Time,
Sow seeds and reap rich harvest;
Let falling dew chime.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Be true to your blood,
Face: come what may, life gyrates;
Man is made of mud.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Soft colours please eyes,
Melodious music soothes;
Mind and heart turns wise.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Majestic outlook,
Generates magnetism;
Seasons paint their look.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Thoughts hum when squeezed in;
Words, metaphors blended with
Great nature’s kingdom!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Time monitors all,
Trust Time, act and move forward;
Blind stumbled and fall.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Trees enjoy freedom,
Sunrays paint them with colours;
Nature has wisdom.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
When spirits assemble,
All minds, agree, disagree;
Spoken words jumble.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
When night is silent,
Bard interacts with the muse;
Write words full of scent.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Moving clouds feel shy,
Pregnant with water stands still;
Down pour from the sky.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Lethargic virus
Traps all, even sun and moon;
Buffoons in circus
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Seasons passes by,
Sun shines, day in and day out;
Your true dreams espy.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
All lies in one’s mind:
Landscapes, oceans, sky, sun, moon;
Change activates mind.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Sharpened imagination,
Create pyramids of thoughts;
Words portray vision.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
When night is silent,
Thoughts twinkle in the sky;
Amber lit planet.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Night is mystery,
Day opens all, night hides all;
Moon, stars make entry.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Morning peacock dance,
A crow cannot perform;
Fame is not a chance.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Order of the day,
In time of need no one helps;
Desert fumes hot day.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
God helps the needy,
Time writes one’s future through work;
Mind churns, be steady.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
One can never know,
One’s future turns and twists;
All fall from above.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Mind is God’s workshop;
Evil forces if allowed,
Turns devil’s workshop!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
God is not a myth;
To achieve success in life,
Take Him along with.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Images vanish,
As life’s seasons keep changing;
Mind does not tarnish.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Strengthen inner self,
To fight with evil forces;
Thorns prick, bleeds the self.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Destined to blossom,
A rose emits its fragrance;
Life short but winsome!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Who helps the helpless?
An acid test reveals truth:
In crisis, God bless!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Existence of God,
One’s mind proves, gives evidence;
Atheists go mad.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Human eye can see,
Things within reach, divine things
Only mind can see.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
To get divine bliss,
Commune with one’s soul through Zen;
Transcendental bliss!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Some souls born to live,
Art flowers bear no fragrance;
Birds unsung they die.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Groom children with love,
Pricking thorn causes bleeding;
Stars fall from above.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Form a state within,
Create a wall around you;
Station to commune!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
When mind faces stress,
Tsunami leaves one on hope
Out of wilderness!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Man and his actions,
Writes his future wrong or right;
Invites reactions!
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
This day too passes,
Be as brave as a tiger;
Trust one’s own senses.
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
HAIKU
Mohammed Fakhruddin
(Bangalore, India)
Haiku
Intensive efforts
Energy flowing outwardly
Yogic pause within.
Virendra Gupta
(Mumbai, India)
ZEN POETRY
Puffs of clouds
Drift across a two-page spread
On the Great Plains
*** ***
Far off in our field
Lies the unobtrusive
Lake Winnipeg
Tateo Fukutomi
English translation by David Dutcher
ZEN POETRY
Cherry flowers, dusk
Butterfly in kimono
Looking, an accomplice
*** ***
A smile!
I sought after a life
Like a smile after all
*** ***
Drip honey, milk,
and with weeping
persons
Tierd-box, Vermillion Japan
English translation
by Hikari Kumoi, Madeleine
M.Slavick & AkikoMomose
ZEN POETRY
A cold circle
called God
or the sun
*** ***
The end of summer –
water clings
to a sponge
*** ***
Someday my knees
will be wrapped
in brilliant clouds
*** ***
The moth’s dead body:
consider it as dust
sent from heaven
*** ***
Having cried out her heart
the sunflower stands
erect
*** ***
the king of snow --
his teeth chattering,
his shoulders trembling
Sayumi Kamakura
(Japan)
ZEN POETRY
Full of life
cypress grows to the sun
in the cemetery.
*** ***
Like a friend’s hand
the winter sun makes my shoulders
lukewarm.
*** ***
So many bridges
and I seldom travel
to the opposite bank
*** ***
Alone at the window
looking at the raindrops
sure of their way
*** ***
Mud on the sidewalk
a plastic Santa Claus
continues to smile.
David Rodrigues
(Portugal)
ZEN POETRY
Every map has a chart
Of an underworld kingdom
On its other side
*** ***
The jet vapor trail
and this feeling of Déjà vu:
to the end of the world
Toshio Kumura
(Japan)
ZEN POETRY
Breathing in the light
the bud of a silent rose
becomes moist
*** ***
Be a butterfly
the journey
of that thin life
Yuko Tange
(Japan)
English translations by Anthony P. Newell
ZEN POETRY
The blue sky --
horse dung
becomes a castle of ants
Ban’ya Natsuishi
(Japan)
HAIKU
Meters High Waves, Winds
Strike disrupt into minusclues
Huge sheets water awesome
*** ***
Books in a pile
Un-sung tales of might valour
No time from strife
*** ***
Owls are weary of light
Moles daylight Bats sunshine
Man in blinds to life
*** ***
Depth of colours vary
Life exists worms trees man
Consciousness differ
*** ***
Examining egg
Abandoned under tree
Feel hundred eyes
*** ***
Buds streching to touch
Blue skies clouds above dwarfed
Giraffe his long neck
*** ***
I curl up to sleep
Rocks under water cozy
Swaying water soothe
Lata Kapila
(Bangalore, India)
ZEN POETRY
The moon runs after the sun,
I after you,
Land of Winds
*** ***
Into the sea of Japan
lightning’s tail
is plunged
*** ***
The mountain range has ears;
a stone is thrown
in the night
*** ***
water spray
east, south, west, north
of King Lapis Lazuli
*** ***
Long, long ago
a fountain
at the bottom of the sea
Ban’ya Natsuishi
(Japan)
ZEN POETRY
When the bells ring
I can’t speak
Silence resounds
*** ***
A granule of the truth
like the universe
hovers above me
*** ***
Shall I come back?
Closed in my body,
I’m dreaming
Borivoj Bukva
(Croatia)
ZEN POETRY
Boys run after a ball
on the grass ---
an old man smiling
*** ***
Feet in the brook
a mountaineer’s shoes
lazily taken off
*** ***
Through the curtain
the moonlight flickering
insomnia
Timjana Mahecic
(Croatia)
ZEN POETRY
Misty window pane
I hear them on the gutter ---
the raindrops
*** ***
A branch covered with snow
swinging and dropping
a sound of the hidden flutter
*** ***
old man on a bench
reading the newspaper
with his eyes and lips
Dusko Matas
(Croatia)
ZEN POETRY
Quiet meadows
Ringing in the night
The sweet smell of hay
*** ***
In the stream
Golden leaves are flying
Pigeons drink
*** ***
A lonely winter road
In this village
There is no temple
Ivak Kraljevic
(Croatia)
ZEN POETRY
noon bell
not a bird in the park
boiling heat of July
*** ***
the snow painted in white
the number plates
of all cars
*** ***
old man on a bench
reading the newspaper
with his eyes and lips
Franjo Hrg
(Croatia)
ZEN POETRY
Droplets
twinkling promiscuously …
They search for their center
*** ***
Moonlit night ---
an old giant dying slowly
Lit by rays
*** ***
The sun growing up …
A smiling drop has jumped and
awakes the lake
Nadja Raycheva
(Bulgaria)
ZEN POETRY
Its cryptography
The universe is writing
On the sky in the night
*** ***
I listen
To the breath of the world
Crossing the moment
*** ***
Soldier’s graveyard.
The abundant grass in growth
Remembers nothing
Lilyana Raicheva
(Bulgaria)
ZEN POETRY
Sunday morning ---
the drowse of the summer town
but not of the birds
*** ***
The day is sliding
Into the blazing sunset
Behind the hill
*** ***
End of the town ---
a nameless street, but
how many flowers!
Kunka Radeva
(Bulgaria)
ZEN POETRY
look
around before
you speak
*** ***
your
hair must be
numbered
*** ***
trees
blossoming;
my thoughts
Tyler Pruett
(USA)
ZEN POETRY
contrail streaks
on cloudless blue
wind chimes
*** ***
fierce wind ---
the string of pine needles
as he plants spring bulbs
*** ***
the old neighborhood
a group of swaps moves
into the bird house
Francine Porad
(USA)
ZEN POETRY
A turtle leads an elephant
into the midday,
the shimmering heat
*** ***
Loved by no one ---
a flowering leek
stands at attention
*** ***
More than rain,
man is my natural enemy ---
cherry blossoms falling
Fumiko Sato
(Japan)
ZEN POETRY
An illusive seat
in the evening sky ---
summer cloud
*** ***
With a loud voice
a boy has come to
the cherry blossom guard
*** ***
The autumn air is so high
a river of sulfur
curved
Sumiko Saito
(Japan)
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