the tsunami and Basho....
the tsunami comes suddenly
taking away everything along the way
houses, cars, boats, men,
women, children
as though it is a thing so mad
so angry without a mind of its own
exactly the opposite of the poem
of Basho
the one that recreates the life of the
pond
extolling the stillness
the quite
and if there be a little tolerable noise
for sure
it is only that classic splash of
the green frog
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
after Basho's frog haiku
every splash at the pond
eddies to the centre of my heart
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Fed Up
one day
i got fed up
with poetry
complaining
with Basho
i too have
sighs why a
simple frog
jumping into
a water
can be a
classic poem
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Frog Of Basho
the frog of basho
made its
jump into the water.
others say
there was this
flash that made the frog famous
not in Hollywood
but in the pages of an old poetry book.
the pond is forgotten.
it was it who said: flok!
not really flash, like light
bending itself to the power of the water.
basho of course
the poet, lives forever.
is this what we really want?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Matchmaker
Behind my house there is a quaint little pond
And every time it rains a little green frog responds
I know that he is lonely and cries into the night
He is longing to find a mate to be complete and all right
The heat is sweltering and he swims on afternoons
Longing for the rain during the night to voice his tunes
Sometimes he is resting on a moist mossy green rock
Looking around aware of his biological clock
On the other side there is a creek behind the pool
There is a small green frog all alone and it's cruel
So I went and captured the one by my pond
And brought it over to the creek to make a bond
Now my nights are filled with silence and peace
And one would think my good night's rest would increase
But instead I was wondering if the frogs getting along
Because if not - then what I did was totally wrong
This morning my neighbor that lives by the creek
Came over to complain about the noise at night's peak
She said that there is a whole family of green frog's right there
She will never know how happy I am about that - I swear
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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An old pond —
The sound
Of a diving frog.
haiku by Matsuo Basho (1686), translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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after Basho's frog haiku
each sight of the amphibian
the echo of a splash
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The old pond--
a frog jumps in,
sound of water.
haiku by Matsuo Basho, translated by Robert Hass
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An Old Pond
old pond.....
a frog leaps in
water's sound
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Basho's frog jumps in
to Basho's mind...emerges
into famous words.
haiku by Dónall Dempsey
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Sans People
Will you let me have a glimpse of people?
People on the streets? People sauntering by, people smiling.
People intending to take a right turn,
Suddenly changed the mind and took to the left.
People across the meadows,
Past the shops, cinemas, theatres, Opera houses,
People racing down, people in the cars, bus, tram, train.
How I wish to have a glimpse of them, the procession of people!
Will you let me have a glimpse of them-
Men, women and children in the houses?
Am I to live only with the fluky glimpse of a strip of cloud
Or the streak of sun, penetrating through the chinks of my window?
People, they said are barred out,
I've to live the rest of my life sans people.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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A Parable
a frog, always the frog
has always been a frog
servant to the fog, but
one frog one day decides
to be a bull to the dismay
of the frogs in that little pond
to the ridicule of the bulls
nearby but the frog learns
to be a bull and bully has
he become until one day
he gains the respect of the
other bulls to the pleasure
of the sun to the disdain
of the fog on the hills
nothing is impossible
to the power of the mind
this the frog follows
through and through
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old pond frog preserved
Frozen in cold immortality
Basho's simplicity
haiku by Ken e Hall
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toxic rain
Bashō's frog leaps out
of grandpa's pond
haiku by Carlos Gesmundo
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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after Basho's frog haiku
the garden pond
speaks more volume
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Tsunami In Japan,2011
My daughter’s hand had slipped away!
My hand was empty in a trice;
Sea-water took her in a flash;
It happened all so suddenly!
There was no time to think or act;
The water toppled houses, roads;
Cars, ships and planes were found afloat;
Nothing could stop the sea invade!
I woke to find that I’m alive!
No more was my daughter with me;
Oh, what terrible tragedy!
Was living thus, worthy for me?
All land was under sea-water!
Most houses were mere planks of wood;
The muddy rubble filled the place;
Just corpses, carcasses met us.
Was it a dream of horror then?
No, it was all reality!
The sea ravaged the coastal land;
The city was erased from the map!
A Tsunami had struck Japan!
It was the worst over decades;
The toll of lives was rising high!
Did God forsake and abandon?
I had been saved by miracle;
The Tsunami came despite God?
Why Nature’s fury hit mankind?
Yes, none can tell and none will ev’r!
‘May all souls lost, rest in peace!
May the quake and Tsunami cease! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-03-11
poem by John Celes
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
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Enough Said
“Votes for women! ”
Was the cry.
Reaching upward,
To the sky.
Crashing glass,
And flashing eye-
“Votes for women! ”
Was the cry.
“Boats for women! ”
Was the cry.
When the men
Were come to die.
When the end
Was drawing nigh
“Boats for women! ”
Was the cry.
Life has many
Little tests.
Insignificant
As jests.
Doubt and bitterness
Assail.
But “boats for women! ”
Tells the tale.
poem by Jeremy Eddy
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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None is travelling
None is travelling
Here along this way but I,
This autumn evening.
The first day of the year:
thoughts come - and there is loneliness;
the autumn dusk is here.
An old pond
A frog jumps in -
Splash!
Lightening -
Heron's cry
Stabs the darkness
Clouds come from time to time -
and bring to men a chance to rest
from looking at the moon.
In the cicada's cry
There's no sign that can foretell
How soon it must die.
Poverty's child -
he starts to grind the rice,
and gazes at the moon.
Won't you come and see
loneliness? Just one leaf
from the kiri tree.
Temple bells die out.
The fragrant blossoms remain.
A perfect evening!
poem by Matsuo Basho
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