Haiku #46

Curled into a ball
His body rises and falls
Doggie’s midday nap

sleepingdogopener.lg_
Image: Milles Studio / via Shutterstock
Advertisements

Kamikochi

Breathing in the fresh mountain air,
I absorb the landscape before me.
Standing tall beneath the wispy clouds,
the mountain embraces the river.
Sandy brown, granite gray,
with streams of white pebbles
flowing down the slopes.

Flowing to
a richer part of the mountain
covered with yellow-green grass,
surrounded by auburn trees,
next to the white pebble beach
by the blue-green water.
The sun shines throughout.

Standing on Kappa Bridge,
I look dull in comparison,
for I am only one color,
the color of my skin.
However, when standing next
to my brothers and sisters
from all over the world,
we are also part of nature’s beauty,
varying colors standing together,
living in harmony.

IMG_0192_sm

Walking in the Kyoto Countryside

It’s been a while since I posted a poem as I have been very busy with life.  Now that things are settling down, I was able to write a poem based on some of the photos I took on my vacation to Japan.  I hope you enjoy it.

Walking in the Kyoto Countryside
by Jenny Katherine Luu

Wet soles walk
on a winding path
surrounded by weeds.
Footsteps washed away
by the pouring rain

Wind sings
with the rain.
Rain dances
on the umbrella,
on our faces,
on our bodies,
on the ground.

Rain falls
like jewels,
as we hop
to avoid puddles
reflecting
our soles.

Weeds, they waver
in the wind.
Raindrops cling to weed,
sparkling in the sun,
like lovers
afraid to let go,
like teardrops
about to fall
from the lid
of the eye.

In the distance, I see
a marshland, showered
with rain,
and a wooden bridge
with many legs
like a centipede,
extending farther
than the eye could see.

Washed with rain,
the bridge glistens
in the sun,
as if the surface
were covered with sweat
from bearing the weight
of all who crossed.

She wears a cotton hat.
She rides her bike
across the bridge.
I watch
as she passes me.

Here in the country,
there is no sound
but wind and rain,
no concept of time,
just you and me.

I watch the Earth.
I watch the grass.
I watch the rain.
I witness life.

kyoto-country

Writing Prompt

A few weeks ago, I attended Poets at Play and the proctor provided a writing prompt.  I didn’t follow the prompt that day, but decided to try it out while I was relaxing at the beach the following day.  I’ve listed both the prompt and my poem below 🙂

The Prompt:
Make a list of the following things and include them in your poem

  • 3-4 colors
  • 3-4 sounds
  • 3-4 flavors
  • 3-4 parts of the body
  • 1 factual statement
  • 1 command
  • 1 thing you lost
  • 1 particular question
  • 1 abstract question
  • several locations
  • several objects
  • 1-2 living creatures
  • 2-3 kinesthetic adjectives

My Poem

I arrived at Seacliff Beach
in my metallic baby blue minivan,
dressed in a neon pink shirt,
a flapping lavender skirt,
and modern happy black sunglasses.
I can’t stop… dancing to the music.

Birds chirping in the sky,
dolphins swimming in the ocean.
The scent of smoked sausage
drifts in my nostrils
and I can’t stop
popping flaming hot
cheetos into my mouth.

My big toe caresses the sand.
I am writing a poem at the beach,
sitting in my camping chair,
tapping my knee cap
as visions of the past
drifts into mind.

“What time is the turkey done?”
my grandparents asked
over the loud hum
of the refrigerator
as I stood on the balcony
eating mint chocolate chip
ice cream,
watching the dog’s leash
get caught on the tree trunk.

A fly buzzed by
my ear lobe just then,
just like the time
at Levi’s Stadium.
I was so distracted,
I hit my funny bone
and dropped my nachos.

Nothing was as bad
as discovering bed bugs
in our room
on the cruise ship
and hearing the fast
clickety-clack
of high-heeled shoes
on the dock
every hour, every night,
more annoying
than the loud rev
of a Harley engine starting.

Is my sanity worth more
than human compassion?

A tangent of images,
a tangent of thoughts
based on a list of words.
Maybe it’s time…
to leave the beach.

seacliff.jpg

  • Please note that majority of events and locations (other than me writing at the beach) are entirely fictional.

The Long Walk

I’m taking a quick break from the Memory Poems of my characters to post one of my own this week.  This was written during Poets at Play.

The Long Walk

She remembered hopping off the bus
some sixteen years ago
carrying her baby blue Jansport backpack
filled to the rim with binders and books,
something she bore on her shoulders
5 days a week, even in the rain.

It was raining then, water drops
came crashing down.  The wind
pushed her left and right.
It was as if Mother Storm
slapped her in the face with spit.

She opened her portable umbrella,
The useless flimsy thing
was no match for the wind,
being pulled inside out
this way and that way,
a broken fragile puppet of the wind.

She struggled to maintain control,
so it wouldn’t fly away,
while crossing the street
looking like a helpless mess,
as onlookers watched
from the safety of their cars.

Raindrops streamed down her face.
Rain pelted her clothes
from slanted angles.
Little drops of water
on her jeans 
were like dark blue dots
that grew into patches
that eventually covered the leg.

Her once dried socks
were wet and squishy.
Her once bright mood
became cloudy like the storm.
She made it home, soaking wet.

It was one of the longest

10 minute walks she’s ever taken
alone
with her friend, El Nino
during high school
in the early millennium.

Flash forward – 2016/2017,
the storm is coming,
school is closed.
Children deprived
of experiencing
these memories.

a-girlwalkinginrain
image from angelgran’s photobucket

The Encounter

Last month, I attended Poets at Play for the first time at the Markham House in History Park, San Jose.  It was nice to meet a small group of poets and spend a nice afternoon writing and discussing poetry.  The theme for the month was “memory.”  I was able to write two poems that afternoon and I will share one with you today, the one I didn’t read out loud.  A poet suggested writing memory from someone else’s perspective, so I decided to write this.  I hope you enjoy it.

The Encounter

Coming out of the trashcan,
I felt my fur on end…
a pair of eyes watching me.
She was there, the human,
looking at me, watching…
my every move.

I jumped back in,
I jumped back out.
I poked my head
around.
She was still there
watching me.

I scurried down the trashcan.
I scurried up a tree,
found a little nook
that was comforting to me.

I lost sight of her.
She lost sight of me,
or so I thought,
until I felt her eyes
once again, watching me.

I pretended not to see.
She pretended to let me be,
walking away,
so I could enjoy my day.

Maybe a squirrel and a girl
could be friends.

17819883_10210579495497673_1818647979_o

 

Like the Ocean

6 months ago, I got married and the journey has been a beautiful one.  To celebrate our semi-anniversary, I wanted to post this love poem that I wrote for my husband 🙂

Like the Ocean

I love holding your hand
as we walk along the sand.
I love you like the ocean
loves the land.

You brighten my day
like sunlight,
with a simple text 
or a gentle caress.

You brighten my night
like moonlight,
with a kiss
and a touch.

In times of hardship,
you are the rock that supports me,
the wind that lifts me,
the flower that inspires me.

You make me alive
like the tide,
and that is why
I love you.

ocean