Integrity

Tags

fourteen lines, graciousness, honour, integrity, Japanese poetry, visiting friends

About two years ago I was experimenting with using Japanese poetic

frameworks and was trying to paraphrase and utilise poetry from the Tale

of Genji etc, but attempting to re-phrase the little cameos in my own words. 

This poem seems to have been left out, so I offer it to you now.

Sometimes you visit,

unexpectedly, a friend

and you stumble on

evidence of graciousness.

No show is put on:

it is their habitual

way of doing things.

It reflects nobility.

Even if you were to spy

on them, you would find

they’d behave in the same way.

they’re true to themselves,

whether they are being watched,

or not.  It’s integrity.

Time Marches On

Tags

Graves, Japanese poetry, memento mori

Photo of kanji by Jmettlen on Wikimedia Commons

 

Even our friends’ graves

will one day be ploughed over.

Grief diminishes

through time and we smile once more.

Calligraphy on

headstones will be eroded.

The deceased’s peers die;

his name is then forgotten.

The pines which are deemed to live

for a thousand years

are, in actual fact, chopped down –

disrespectfully,

or just pragmatically,

according to how life’s viewed.

I Know What I Like

Tags

choka, cliches, Japanese poetry, lyricism, onomatopoeia, rhyme, scansion

The old verse is best:

toil is ennobled by it.

Even a beast’s cry is onomatopoeic.

I know what I like

and I don’t mean a good rhyme,

necessarily,

or rigid scansion.

Even transferred epithets

can be somewhat trite.

Melodic lyricism

conveys true feeling.

Even cliches from the past

have elements of truth.

Deferred Gratification

Tags

choka, deferred gratification, discrimination, Japanese poetry

Another re-vamp of the 14th century Japanese monk’s

observations:

 

Some people just live

to view the next spectacle.

Deferred gratification

is alien to them;

anticipation is lost

on such as these types.

They drink while they wait

and then push their way forward,

to seize the best views,

shoving past others

who have queued up patiently.

Discrimination

is lacking.  Anything thrills.

They can’t wait for the next show.

The Handwriting of the Dead

Tags

calligraphy, despondency, handwriting, Japanese poetry, Longevity

 

 

 

The dead’s handwriting

has power to affect us.

The ink was as fresh

as if only yesterday

the brush had been dipped.

He blurred the paper with tears

and re-read her words;

then consigned them to the flames.

Smoke spiralled to the heavens.

He no longer craved

longevity from the gods.

As the snow drifted,

his despondency increased.

The end of the year approached.

 

Dutiful Visits

Tags

choka, Japanese poetry, Lady Hitachi, Murasaki Shikibu, Seidensticker, Tale of Genji

 

(Wikipedia.  Murasaki Shikibu portrait

Author: Kano Takanobu; )WalkerPlus)

 

When the letter came,

he did not let her see it.

It was pathetic,

but he saved the woman’s face;

she was a princess!

Murasaki was unique –

she should understand.

But why was he so nervous

if the other meant nothing?

Lady Hitachi

is the one he visits now.

No woman need fret:

she has a ginormous nose!

There is no competition.

 

(I have used Edward Seidensticker’s translation of

‘The Tale of Genji’ throughout.  I have taken his prose

and cut, paraphrased and transformed the material,

re-shaping it into chokas and tankas.  My intention was

to capture the spirit of the tale, but to return it to poetry

by using traditional Japanese forms.

Seidensticker made the work accessible to me, for which

I am indebted.)

Lavender

Tags

Genji, Japanese poetry, Murasaki, Peeping Tom

 

Genji seeks healing

for his burning fever but,

like a Peeping Tom,

he spies on all the ladies :

Murasaki is his choice.

 

Muntjac

Tags

bussokusekika, Dumbleton Hall, Japanese poetry, Muntjac

My first example of Bussokusekika.  All you Japanese poetry experts

out there, have I got it right?  I am using the structure 5,7,5,7,7,7.

 

(Photo by Nilfinian… at Dumbleton Hall.

Wikipedia)

 

Muntjac deer, freeze-framed,

hoping that you are unseen;

your ears are alert.

Every sound I make, you hear.

Your rasping bark at mid-night

lets me know you are still there.