I was really amazed by Aparna Sen's elegiac love poem
An emotional Movie.
'The Japanese wife',
From the Directors of Arthouse Masterpiece.
Mr. & Mrs. Iyers, the Bengali Elegy.
Rahul Bose as 'Snhemoy'
Raima Sen an enchanting widow and her son 'Poltu'
Chigusa Takaku, (Miyage) Snhemoy's Japanese pen-friend.
The mixture of their palpable bonds,
Four of them showed their best perfomance
Besides, Snhemoy's Aunt Moushami Chatergi
Holds the entire gravity of the film.
Altogether sixhundred and thirty five soft letters exchanged
Three long-distance phone calls
Fifteen years of pen-friendship
And their rare marriage but they have not met.
'How far you go for love? '
Till my hard last breath
I Re-read this enormous poem
And hope you all get a chance to see this Tragedy!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Turning Japanese
Ive got your picture
Of me and you
You wrote, I love you.
I love you, too
I sit there staring when theres nothing else to do
Oh, its in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when theres no one else around
Ive got your picture, got your picture
Id like a million of em over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Ive got your picture, Ive got your picture
Id like a million of them over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder its dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
Everyone
Thats why Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so)
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so...)
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There aren't many American directors here trying to direct a Japanese yakuza film. When you combine that with the fact that I don't speak much Japanese and this was an independent film I was financing myself - people were curious about what I was doing.
quote by John Foster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Encounter - Imamura Shohei
Imamura Shohei
that love of the orient
shines through his face
Imamura Shohei
our meet marked by
mutual love for the orient
The late Imamura Shohei won the Grand Prix Award for the Cannes Film Festival for the film Narayama Bushiko many years back. The film depicts the strange custom of a Japanese village where old folks were
sent to mountains to die to solve food problems. The most touching scene was that of an old woman waving to her reluctant son to go after he had brought her to the mountains. Imamura was in Malacca in the 80s to film his other film Zegen when we met up. He greeted me like a friend, an outpouring of his love for the orient. Zegen did not make it to the box office but his recognition as one of Japan best directors surivives.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A statement about art & friendship
It is the friendship that she carries well
On summer day
In the writing workshop
She wins their hearts
When she is asked to read her poems
Or say, show her masterpiece
She merely smiles
Her friendship is her piece her only masterpiece
Her smile is her only word written on
Her face
And they all say it is enough
A smile can save the world
But I beg to disagree
A smile cannot save me
Last night i wrote a poem written
With my blood as ink on my face
The angst on my crumpled paper
And they ask me to read my poem
This afternoon when everyone
Is tired and irritated
My turn, I think, I decide to give them my smile
Like her friendship, my compromise
I get their approval and I think
It is her friendship that kills
Literature that suppressed art
It started with Mona Lisa, now it
Will always be, perhaps, the scream
Must die, popularity does not like it.
I know I have to cry alone
In my room and make my own kind of literature.
Someday the world may find it and love it
Sorrow is suppressed and happiness is fabricated
Friendship has always been politics
And art is hidden in compromises
Only to come out later and too late
The people will say, “we all love this one! ”
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kaleidoscope and Harpsichord
As I've told my wife too many times,
the meaning of any poem hides
in the marriage of cadence and sound.
Vowels on a carousel,
consonants on a calliope,
whistles and bells,
we need them all
tickling our ears.
Otherwise, the lines
are gristle and fat, no meat.
Is it any wonder, then,
my wife has a problem
with any poem I give her to read
for a second opinion, especially
when the poem has no message
and I'm simply trying to hear
what I'm saying and don't care
if I understand it.
The other night in bed
I gave her another poem to read
and afterward she said this poem
was no different than the others.
She had hoped I'd improve.
'After all, ' she said,
'you've been writing for years
but reading a poem like this is
like looking through a kaleidoscope
while listening to a harpsichord.'
Point well taken,
point well said.
But then I asked her
what should a man do
if he has careened for years
through the caves of his mind
spelunking for the right
line for a poem
only to hear his wife say
after reading one of his poems
that it was like
'looking through a kaleidoscope
while listening to a harpsichord.'
What should he do-quit?
'Not a chance, '
she said this morning,
enthroned at the kitchen table,
as regal as ever in her fluttery gown
and buttering her English muffin
with long, languorous strokes
Van Gogh would envy.
'He should write even more,
all day and all night, if need be.
After all, ' she said, 'my line
about the kaleidoscope and harpsichord
still needs a poem of its own.
It's all meat, no gristle, no fat.'
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Sad Story 3 (A True Story)
In some lives tragedy lingers
like a low hanging dark cloud.
Take the life of a friend of mine.
A few years ago, he fell off his horse
and missed a lovely weekend away.
After months of recuperation
life started to build itself again.
Getting home one evening,
he found his partner not feeling well
and within a matter of hours, she was gone.
The weeks that followed
his world seem to be caving in.
First his job was to go
and then the flat he lived in.
Nothing seemed to be going right.
He met up with his ex-wife
because his daughter had become
a drug addict and an alcoholic.
Somehow, their love for one another
started to blossom again.
He began to grow in strength again.
Life was getting better at every bend,
but tragedy hadn’t left him,
it just waited to come back.
Then I heard it had struck again
just as he was getting settled
it struck again with vengeance
only this time to his ex wife.
He went around to see her
as he normally did
only to find police everywhere.
Asking why they were there,
they told him it was a crime scene I am afraid
and that his ex wife had been murdered.
How is he coping I am not sure.
I’ve tried to phone him,
but his phone is switched off I’m afraid.
There is an emptiness in my heart
as he is a nice and gentle man.
I shall keep on trying to get in touch with him,
as he is a good friend.
I just hope he doesn’t fall
into a depression again.
One never knows
how much tragedy any man or woman can endure.
This story has no end and nor will it
until I hear from my good friend.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Charles Akalaonu
Wher are you Charles Akalaonu?
Where are you to read my muse?
I have beeen searching everywhere to find you;
Charles Akalaonu where are you?
I hope to find you one day,
I hope to meet you one day,
I hope to see you one day
Maybe one day you will read this poem.
Where are you Charles Akalaonu?
Maybe one day your children will read this poem;
Charles Akalaonu where are you?
Maybe one day your siblings will read this poem;
Say hello to your wife and children,
Great the entire members of your family as well;
Maybe one day you will read this poem.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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At My Aunt's Unveiling
AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING
At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.
Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.
My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.
I had only been a taker all the years.
My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world
There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.
There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.
I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew
‘What does it all mean’
When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Surprise in Japan - A sincere apology
our Japanese teacher
starts her lesson bowing to us
and apologises for the war
I was rather surprised this 30's something Japanese teacher apologised for the role Japanese played in the second world war
in the Asia Pacific. All the students in this Japanese school in Ichikawa Japan were from Asia particularly China, Korea, Malaysia and Singapore. Many Japanese never felt sorry about the ruthlessness they unleashed on their neighbours but there are some who knew of the real situations and are ready to apologise when occasions permits it.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Take Me Away
(l. stansfield/aska)
How much hurt can we take
When its cold outside all I can do is hide and pray for better times
Oh how I need a friend to wipe the tears from my eyes
Love is hard to find in somewhere so unkind
When its been left here behind
There is a place somewhere and if youll lead me there
Then we can open our eyes
Chorus
So take me away
So far, so far away
Oh, wont you take me to a better day
Take me away
(japanese lyric)
Oh, take me away
(japanese lyric)
Its easy just hold me in your arms
cause when the world is upside down
We can bring it round
How much hurt can we take
How much hurt can we take
It seems that everywhere although we tried to care
Were just not taking the time
When all we communicate is full of greed and hate
Its time to open our eyes
Chorus
(japanese lyric)
We can bring it round
(japanese lyric)
We can bring it round
(japanese lyric)
There is a place somewhere and if you lead me there
Then we can open our eyes
Then we can open our eyes
(repeat chorus to fade out)
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They got word that the Japanese planes were coming back, so we sunk her ourselves so the Japanese wouldn't get it. We didn't want the Japanese to get it intact.
quote by Barney Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Letter
i will be honest with you
i once wrote a letter
for you
many years ago
telling
that I LOVE YOU
but then something
wrong went with my mind
childish, immature
selfish,
fleshy, they call me
i took the letter
and read it again
under the lamp
dim
near my bed
i was hesitant to tell
you what i really feel
because i know
you would not believe me
anyway
(liar! liar! you always
call me that name)
and so let me be honest
with you
i decided not to send
it
despite its truth
i folded it
shaped it into the form
of a japanese crane
(origami, that is the
art of paper folding
and the japanese believe
that an origami crane
can cure the sick
the loved one
and i believe that
too)
i looked at it carefully
when it was finished
the shape of
a crane, the white one
with letters on it
and then i opened
my window
it was cold and dark
and i sent the
crane into the
open space
beyond me
i never dreamed
that it will reach
you
i did not believe
in love
i did not believe
in you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bengali In Platforms
Bengali, bengali
Bengali, bengali
No no no
He does not want to depress you
Oh no no no no no
He only wants to impress you
Oh..
Bengali in platforms
He only wants to embrace your culture
And to be your friend forever
Forever
Bengali, bengali
Bengali, bengali
Oh, shelve your western plans
And understand
That life is hard enough when you belong here
A silver-studded rim that glistens
And an ankle-star that ... blinds me
A lemon sole so very high
Which only reminds me; to tell you
Break the news gently
Break the news to him gently
Shelve your plans; shelve your plans, shelve them
Bengali, bengali
Its the touchy march of time that binds you
Dont blame me
Dont hate me
Just because Im the one to tell you
That life is hard enough when you belong here
That life is hard enough when you belong here
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
cause life is hard enough when you belong
Life is hard enough when you belong here
Oh...
Shelve your western plans
Oh...
Shelve your best friends
cause life is hard when you belong here
Oh...
Life is hard enough when you belong
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Of The Sea Is For Me in Tel Aviv Today
THE POEM OF THE SEA IS FOR ME IN TEL AVIV TODAY
BET CHOL HAMOED PESACH 5762
The poem of the sea is for me today
The poem of longing and beauty
It is the poem of light
Of distance
It is the poem of waves unceasing
And colors dreaming their changes faster than they can be named-
The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of return and happiness
A poem of being with my family-
It is too a poem of memories
How thirty- five years ago just beginning
I came to the same sea alone
And wondered how
If I would ever have a family of my own
Then young in love
And later losing love
And then returning alone
And now again here
With a daughter her husband and my granddaughter
The poem of the sea is for me
On this day
A poem of Love and Gratitude to God
Of longing and beauty of light of distance
And happiness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Just Friends VS. Best Friends
A Just Friend says.. hi, ..hello, ..bye, ... and walks away...
A Best friend always stop by your side & asks how Are You doing? ?
A Just Friend has never seen you cry.
A Best friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.
A Just Friend thinks the friendship is over, when you have an argument.
A Best friend knows that it's not a friendship, until after you've had a fight.
A Just Friend hates it when you call, after he has gone to bed.
A Best friend asks you.... why you took so long to call.
A Just Friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A Best friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself.
A Just Friend expects you to be always there for any help.
A Best friend is always there, wherever you require any help.
A Just Friend doesn't have time in his/her busy schedule,
A Best friend always have time for you in his/her busy schedules....
A Just Friend phones you whenever he/she has some work,
A Best friend calls you often just to hear your voice.....
A Just Friend doesn't have anything to talk to you on phone,
A Best friend doesn't know...what all to finish...
poem by Hanae Meloul
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Dear Wife
Dear Wife I write you this poem
As I have been told it would do me well,
To let you know what you have done to me,
And ask why you put me through all this hell.
I brought you here all the way from your home
To be my wife and my love forever more,
I then gave you all, and I did without,
But then your went knocking at other mens door.
I then found out you were telling lies about me
And love letters and phone calls to other men you sent
But you I had trusted with my whole heart and soul
So your many affairs on me, I never had the hint.
Dear Wife this is your poem
I hope you read it over and over again
Your sister said your affair on me wasn't your first
As you did it also with your other husbands and men.
Did you tell anyone else what you did too me
About mentally and physically abusing me all the time
And how you always put yourself always first
And never what was yours was also was mine.
You left our house when your family had slept
So you could go out and be with with another man
As you didn't care who you used or had hurt
And you I don't think no one could ever understand.
Dear Wife here is more of your poem
I truly hope that you will read it all
Have you told anyone who you left me for
Or are you ashamed and want that to be my call.
He too is a liar and and user and also a thief
And in so many ways he is just like you
As he too has not a job but lives off others
So he now tells you what you can or cannot do.
He had cheated on his wife so she left him
And also I found out he is a Momma’s boy
He is a coward and he cant fight his own fight
And as you know all of that is a true story.
Dear Wife here is more of your poem
There is so much more that I need to write
Are you going to raise your daughters the way you live
And have them believing that you were always right.
Will they think its alright to jump from one man to another
And its better to always take than it is to give,
And to ignore GOD’S word and think only of themselves
Tell me is that how you want them to live.
Soon one day all of your family and friends will find out
Of all of your lying and the ways that you do act
And hopefully none of your family will turn out like you
And as you know those are not lies, but only fact.
Dear Wife this of course is your poem
And you know that none of it is a lie
I never expected what you had done to me
So deep inside my soul I surely did die.
I kept all the messages you sent in your letters
Even the one about your hickey given in our house
The one your bragged about that was given to you
And it wasn't given by me, your spouse.
I remember when you told your daughters and me
How every Sunday that you had to go to school,
Even on Valentines day and your Birthday you had to go
Then I found out it was lie, and once again I am the fool.
Dear Wife here is some more of your poem
I am beginning to feel a lot better now,
As I did nothing wrong and it was always you,
And truly I do feel so happy with my soul and I am proud.
You committed adultery and you robbed and you stole,
And I stayed truthful to my wife and love which was you,
When you were abandoned in Scotland for over a year
Remember it was I your husband who wanted you.
I still have the pictures and the mail you had sent
And everyone even your family knows of your past,
All your adultery and affairs and cheating you have done,
The evils you have done to others will always last.
Dear Wife again this is your poem
If not without you it would of never been born
Some talk about the fury inflicted by scorned women
But I tell you this, a man too does not like to be scorned.
You have gossiped and criticized everyone in your life
Told of secrets and promises that you swore to keep
You honor no one and loyalty is not your friend,
And for you soul, sad to say no one will ever weep.
You have talked about your sisters and your brother
You said of their problems that they have many
Then you talked about your ex-husbands and ex-lovers
And this and we say Wife; Problems you have many.
Dear Wife This is the end of my poem
I hope truly that you have read it well,
And I hope all that know you, have read it too,
As they will too know, the truth is all that I did tell.
You have no conscience or dignity about yourself,
Is that why you changed your looks once again,
You cant change your soul, like changing of your hair
Seems you cant stay away from adultery and sin.
When you sleep tell me how do you sleep
I bet you sleep well, that is if you have not a soul,
And are you waiting for another man to come in your life,
So you can again start another life not far down the road.
Dear wife, I wander will your daughters be like you
Later in years when women they will become
You already have taught them how to lie and steal
And how to use men for gain and also fun.
I remember when they told me about all your boyfriends
And all the men you had stay with you for the night
And sad to say I later became one of those men
I guess I became the man next in your expanding line.
I wander if your daughters are happy with you
And the life that you gave them to live
They don't know how to be true and virtuous woman
The greatest present a mother to her daughter she could give.
Dear Wife, that name I wont call you anymore
As my wife to me you can never be
As you did the sins no other wife would ever do
And everyone of that one fact would always agree.
So you can tell your lies to everyone that you meet
Do you believe any one but a sinner would believe your lies
As you don't and never did walk the steps of morality or virtue
Now when you feel the cold wind that is GODS sadden sigh.
So using me and abusing me will happen no more
As to my mind and soul on that one thought I do reflect
As i can do so much better but you will not ever
And now my Dear Wife, you will ever be known as my ex.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry: Ode of Good Wife
Ode of Good Wife
By Tang Poet Zhang Ji (768-830)
Translated by Laijon Liu 20090613
You know I have husband,
So you give me a pair of pearl.
I thank your touching thoughts,
So I tie them on my red coat.
My family dwells on tall building,
And they rest within the high walls;
My husband holds his sharp spear,
And guarding in the palace light.
I understand your heart clearly,
As reading the sun and the moon.
But I’ve sworn to serve my husband,
To be with him in life and death.
And now I must return these pearls,
They are bright as my falling tears.
I only have one thing to regret:
Why didn’t we meet before my marriage?
Note:
This poem is written in simple words, but talks about the controversial topic of love and marriage of society. From its surface that readers may think that poet praises the wife’s choice, but think again, the poet also feels pity about the wife’s condition that she choose to repay her husband to be with him, but refrain from thinking of her love that she really has feeling for. She knows how her family receives the benefit of her marriage, because her husband serves in palace. She is not materialistic at all, but she knows her husband loves her, so she has to hold her true will of pursuing for true love or someone she feels for. Yes, she is a good wife, for she put herself on the altar of love, yet she can’t just privately build another relationship with the man who gift her “a pair of pearl”.62 Chinese characters that shoots a love movie, and he does not give his readers his answer, but only to raise a question. Not only that, this is a political poem, that the poet composes this poem to refuse a minister’s invitation to join the new political party in the Tang court, Chinese poet often use woman and man’ relationship for metaphor of political and social relationship (Like Contemporary Singer Cui Jian’s song ‘Have Nothing To My Name’) , as officials to emperor, students to teacher… but even we just read the poem from its surface, still it brings the same question of principal of loyalty and friendship.
Chinese:
节 妇 吟
张 籍
poem by Laijon Liu
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Mu
Japanese film director Yasujiro Ozu's grave only has the inscription of the Japanese character 'mu, ' which means 'nothingness.'
shall i say that
i have been there
and found the same
thing too...
it was all
mu.
but anyway
we who are still here
have to move on
to the next chapters
still searching
for the
non-mu.
who knows?
something to touch
and keep burning
in our fingers
someone to hug and
keep this life
moving
something to live for
that quintessence
that we must have
to put some meaning
on those walls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Honor And Courage
In Japan, they write on rice paper,
In America, we write on the sides of buildings.
In Japan they honor their elders,
In America, we rob them on buses,
And abuse them.
In Japan there is great love for their country.
In America, people are refusing to stand,
For the national anthem.
In Japan, men are volunteering to die,
Without a second thought,
To give up their lives,
To save their fellow citizens.
Oh yes, you'll say, the Japanese are great,
At dying, at suicide missions.
But is that the point?
Shouldn't the point be,
The Japanese love their homeland,
The Japanese love their own people,
The Japanese love their way of life,
The Japanese love their traditions,
Love, honor, respect, courage,
Nobody writes on Japanese walls.
Offenders are quickly and severely dealt with.
Wouldn't you volunteer also?
Maybe not.
Honor, and courage,
Seem to be,
In short supply,
Stateside.
3/26/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Booby Prize Or a Fine Romance? 1
Every once in awhile,
you hear a funny story,
and sometimes you wonder
if what is written there
is fiction or true.
Normally you will not question,
in case it embarrasses or offends.
Well I what I am about to tell you
is it a fib or is it true?
Some thirty-eight years ago,
I went to a funeral of a friend
and ended up with the widow
as a booby prize.
So if I told you that
is exactly how I met my wife,
would you believe me
or would you think I am having you on?
You would be wrong
to think I was having you on.
Because it was at her first husband’s funeral that we met.
It was a few weeks later
a bunch of his friend met, in a coffee bar.
Someone suggested
one of us should take the widow out,
and I drew the short straw
and I got the booby prize
all those years ago,
or was it a fine romance.
I will leave it up to you to decide.
2 July 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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