The winter storm
The winter storm
Hid in the bamboo grove
And quieted away.
poem by Matsuo Basho
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He was burned, so he ran into the bamboo grove, but the grove caught fire.
Bamboo Tunes and Cat Eyed Girl
In the murmuring evenings,
Cat eyed girl, worn ear-rings,
Stands by bamboo cluster,
Putting down pots of water.
Gilded bamboos sing and sway,
And the tired path becomes gay.
Bamboo hearts throb ever;
Unnamed tunes cease never.
Her bamboo throes resounded
In the gloomy wind unbounded.
Melodies of earth does shower
On her soul that does hover.
Finger tip of the wind brings
Sweet tunes from bamboo strings.
Music enters her inner grove,
Where the forlorn dreams rove.
Cuddled bamboos swing and say
What the lovers failed to say.
Never dying natural music
So keeps her hopes rhythmic.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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bamboo grove
row and row of
uprightness
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Harsh Winter Storm
harsh winter storm
life is like weather always changing
sometimes for good and sometimes for the bad
life is all but change
to all that loves or is loved be forsaken
words of hate and hurt
turn to stone
life is harsh winter storm
blistering and freezing everything in its path
to what extent must this go on
peace at mind seems impossible
darkness around consealing him in a cage of disaster
lost with out a sight blinded cant see
come to the conclusion one life is a harsh winter storm
pulling its victims one by one
seeing happyness all around
secluded and alienated unable to find true happyness
life's a harsh winter storm
slowing destroying us all
poem by Mitchtifer Lederer
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Moonlight slanting
Moonlight slanting
through the bamboo grove;
a cuckoo crying.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Bamboo Adobe
I sit along in the dark bamboo grove,
Playing the zither and whistling long.
In this deep wood no one would know -
Only the bright moon comes to shine.
poem by Wang Wei, translated by Liu Wu-chi
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Bamboo Bimbo
Well he caught his first whiff in the jungles
Ofnam
That slant-eyed catfish tasted better than mom
Now every single night she drops her big bomb
Cause hes a bamb00 bimbo
Those hook marks really show
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He went for it now everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimb0
He caught his first glance in field and stream
That salt water taffy was a fishermans
Wet dream
Now every single night hes still gettin
That big ream
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He fell it and everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimbo
Just a monkey with a ring in his nose
Hes a bambo0 bimbo
Cant say I never told ya so
Hes a bamboo bimb0
It go on and on and on
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Sinfonia
The storm is coming soon
It rolls in from the sea
But your voice is a beacon in the night
And I can hear all the kind words that you are saying my friend
But your light will always shine in the sky at night during the winter
The winter is cold and it gives me the shivers all through my body
This is the winter
That will carry me to you
And I know that you will be waiting for me on the other side of the frozen lake when God delivers me on earthagainduring this winter
Is your love alive during the winter?
Is your love alive during the winter?
This is the winter
February never felt so right
But I am where I belong
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Retreat.....
AFTER You say the
truth, when the other merely
gives you nothing
but that
silly laughter
you shrink back into
a nook
becoming a creek
winding your way
back
under the
bamboo grove
Before you finally
recede into a thin surface of
sand
you take a glimpse of the
sky
to take the much needed
look of
the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Winter Message
A flake of snow in flurry thro’ the air
Had landed as a kiss upon my cheek:
A secret message, just for me to share;
To take to heart but never dare to speak
About or presuppose to other eyes
Your open feelings – distant though they are.
And so, upon your lips, my OWN surprise:
A flake of snow returned from me afar.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
winter winter winter winter icy winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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As Winter raged
Winter was at war.
Her subterfuge:
Crumble grey-white flakes upon the scene.
The air, dead;
Dead too, the sound –
Blunted by the whitewash.
Motion, dead –
Bluing chill saw to that.
Everything ground to a halt –
Like an empty train, crawling, seizing;
Eventually to die sprawled along a ghosted platform –
A lifeless plain of concrete.
I still had far to go –
Or so this brain computed
– Tried to –
Inside my own raging storm of white noise,
Howling in its desperation.
Now wild, blitz-wild,
I bore an irrepressible thought –
A goal, focus, idée fixe:
To clasp a frosted hand around
A radiant mug of sugar-laden
Calorie-heavy
Full-fat milk chocolate –
Steam wraiths writhing over
A freshly-spooned whirlpool,
Sultry in their invitation:
‘Come, sip, sip some more;
Soothe yourself in balmy richness.’
I still had far to go…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
winter winter winter
winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
winter winter winter winter winter winter winter raged
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Tanya
Cold and dreary, dark and alone
Wind wailing thru the icy night
Dragging on and on
So reluctant to leave
Mad and angry to be forced to go
One last storm, one last night
Winter steals her away
Winter likes to go alone
Goodbye winter
Now all seems calm
But it's just the silence of the ones
Left struggling in your wake
Trying to put to rest
Winter
And carry her memory through spring
Goodbye
Winter
Your price was too high.
On the Lake (1)
Mountain monks facing chess sit
Board on bamboo dark quiet
Shine bamboo no person see
Sometimes hear down chess piece sound
Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain,
The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear.
Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow,
One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.
The winds may fell the massive oak, but bamboo, bent even to the ground, will spring upright after the passage of the storm.
The bird sleeps in the bamboo grove
It is night.
The moon glows above the grove. There is another moon too in the pond.
The stars too glow, scattered all over the expansive sky.
It is a cool night.
The bird is asleep.
The bird rests on a bamboo branch with thick leaves.
And the night whispers to the bird:
'sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight;
sleep kind heart
that nature fashioned;
sleep while sister moon watches over you
sleep while the stars bless you
with starlight, starlight;
O sleep gentle soul
that sings for delight
sleep all night
in bamboo embrace'
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Real Strength (Octelle Form)
Bamboo tree, you are resilient
With the wind, so truly patient
Bending back with every blow
Swaying freely, strength to show
Although fierce may be the storm
It can never break your form
Bamboo tree, you are resilient
With the wind, so truly patient!
Cynthia Buhain Baello
11.22.12
**Octelle - poetry form of 8 lines
aa-bb-cc-aa rhyme scheme, 88-77-77-88 syllable
pattern, and uses personification & symbolism.
The first 2 lines are repeated as the last 2 lines.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Images of Hunger
A child weeps on
the bamboo floor
while mother
looks at the empty pot.
Father comes home
from the storm
stooping
like his lonely boat.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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And I Always Keep The Distance?
I remember one day you're standing
with an umbrella in a drizzle at the long dreamy bridge?
And the secret river of love flowed quietly.
It's a Moonlit night and I was not quite sure
Either you, Moon or someone else
danced with ripples?
Let me say again please
That I was the poor river bank
Under the lonely Bamboo grove
And I always keep the distance?
to John Nebaza who's from Uganda!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sestina: A bird in the bamboo
The potter carried home a broken plate
and passing through a grove of tall bamboo,
some thing within disturbed the verdant sheen.
Intrigued, he stopped awhile to rest and wait.
A bird shot skyward, straight as arrow true,
turned somersaults and plunged back into green.
The bird had left the safety of the green,
to see from high the land as coloured plate.
An overview, to give perspective true.
Imprint in mind a map of home's bamboo
and then to hide and rest in patient wait,
before an insect hunt by thin moon's sheen.
The potter's wife delighted in the sheen,
of jagged shards of crackle-glazed jade green.
With supper not quite ready, while he wait,
he set about to mend the shattered plate.
When laid beside their wares of plain bamboo,
it's beauty shone and both declared this true.
The potter was perfectionist, it's true,
who long had strived to replicate the sheen,
of leafy shades of celadon bamboo.
One day, the kiln revealed translucent green.
The pottery's proud owner chose a plate,
as gift to Empress, hopeful then to wait.
Official staff with retinue in wait,
by Emperor's decree paid tribute true.
A portered chair arrived of fine gold-plate,
to honour maker of such lovely sheen.
Asway, the potter turned a sickly green
and gripped the shouldered poles of stout bamboo.
In city, thoughts returned to tall bamboo
and how it seemed the bird could hardly wait,
to fly back home within the dappled green.
The potter's mind was strong, his heart was true.
He learned of commerce, trade and coin's sheen,
but dreamt of home and wife and mended plate.
Back home, at last, amongst the green bamboo,
rich plate collectors, clothed in silken sheen,
confirmed that true rewards are worth the wait.
poem by Diane Hine
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342
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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