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

Tonight, We Feast!

Crunching leaves, crackling branches,
creatures enter our land.
Slipping and sliding, huffing and puffing,
hearts beating to the rhythm
of life.

Their sweet, sweaty aroma
causes a buzz.
Tonight, we will celebrate.
Tonight, we will feast.
We will savor the pulsating blood
from the human beast.

Dancing around the tiki torch
in the dark of night.
Left, right, left, we dodge,
we gag, we hold our breath
from the evil scent.

An opening here…
an opening there…
like ninjas, we snip and snap
and eat our fill.

They clap and they slap,
but we’re way too fast.
Night after night, we feast
off sweet, sweet blood.
And time and time again,
they come back.

For herein lies
paradise –
tall trees, lush greens, fresh air,
plenty to share,
as they become prey
to the vampires
of the jungle,
the buzz-worthy
mosquito.

tiki

Autumn Leaves

Swirling in the air,
nature’s confetti
fallen to the ground,
a slumber party –

The color of mangoes
against the green grass,
a painter’s vision
of beautiful trash.

Drenched by rain,
blown by breeze,
always trampled on,
Autumn leaves.

Hear the crunch,
feel the wrinkles,
trace the lines
that twinkle

in the sun.
Sparkles and shines
from green to gold to red,
a chameleon of time.

Autumn Leaves
– image taken from Google

The Love of My Life

As the sun starts to rise,
I can feel her breath upon me
with the scent of morning dew.

Dancing in the breeze,
she glows with life.

Her hair rustles in the wind,
skirt flowing hypnotically
back and forth, rhythmically
and I am captivated
by her beauty.

Her wrinkled bulldog
skin glows with warmth
and I long to caress
each bump, each curve,
each crevice, touching it,
loving it, knowing it,
controlling it, predicting
her sometimes erratic behavior
as she breaks down
and cries,
shedding inches and inches
of tears
until her clothes
are no longer
dry.

When her anxiety is gone,
she smiles once more
and breaks my heart
with her rainbow emotions
and famous mid-day pastels.

Her mix of pinks and oranges
overlapping purples, intertwining
emotions freeze my eyes
with longing and I want to hold her
in my arms, in my memory
forever
under the golden, vanilla
sky.

Refreshingly sweet,
she whispers melodies
throughout the night,
calming my nerves
with her gentle voice,
brushing away pain
with a simple sweep
of her hand.

Late at night,
when I’m lost,
she guides me
with her moonlight.
Her sensual curves
of earthly tones
glows with love
as she undresses
before me
and I am struck
with awe.

A twinkle of light
sparkles in her eyes
as she melts
into the night
and I am mesmerized,
knowing, we would never
be one.

My Brush with Beauty

I am but an element
in nature’s canvas,
a mere splash of paint,
insignificant
compared to the fire bird
looming above me.
Its orange wisps
breathing energy
into the sky.

I see a beak,
perfectly defined,
connecting to
a textured chest
of feathered clumps
that dissipate
into the sky,
spreading wispy wings
and a fiery tail.

A life force of energy
weaving above me,
orange, pink, white
breaking into
the blue, blue sky.

Mesmerizing,
captivating,
the fire bird soars
through shadows
and silhouettes,
beyond houses and trees,
through mountains
to the horizon,
passed you and me.

The fire bird lives on
forever through time,
captured on
the canvas
of my mind.