Basho's frog jumps in
to Basho's mind...emerges
into famous words.
haiku by Dónall Dempsey
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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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The old pond--
a frog jumps in,
sound of water.
haiku by Matsuo Basho, translated by Robert Hass
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still no consensus
on the sound
the frog made
haiku by Basho, translated by Michael Joseph Ferguson
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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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For The Critics Who Believe They Are Better Poets...
DO NOT dissect the frog
of Basho
it cannot sing in the rain
and there will
be no more splashes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Old Pond
old pond.....
a frog leaps in
water's sound
poem by Matsuo Basho
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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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Old pond frog preserved
Frozen in cold immortality
Basho's simplicity
haiku by Ken e Hall
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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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after Basho's frog haiku
the garden pond
speaks more volume
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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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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129
Perhaps to Basho the twins are boring
He himself does not want
To be imitated
Too boring like
A melon cut into half
Mirroring each other
Aren’t these twins
Boring?
Or Basho was just envious
He may be a poet of his age
But his poems never bore
Him a son
Or a mirror of his own face.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Phileas the Frog
Phileas the frog was awfully large -
To see the muscle in his thighs -
A sight bedazzling to your eyes!
With plenty there to feed a town -
If you would dare to take him down!
Phileas the frog could tow a barge.
One hefty bound could clear a tree -
A scary sight I'll guarantee!
And something else to make me dread:
Were he to land upon my head!
Phileas the frog was known as 'Sarge -'
Accounted by that massive chest.
No other frog would care to jest
That tidy Phileas!
So if you've sense and know your place -
And hold some value to your face,
Then don't get supercilious
With Phileas!
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved.
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Homage to Matsuo Basho
Descendant of a samurai family
Page and friend of the son
Of the Lord of Iga Province
Great haiku poet
Creator of word pictures
In seventeen syllables
Matsuo Basho
I salute you.
Lover of plum blossom fragrance
Of thin layers of mist
The rising sun
On the mountain path
And the pristine elegance
Of the rice planting song
Matsuo Basho
Are you still on the road
From the monastery
On Mount Koya
To Kyoto?
When I read your lines
I hear the sound
Of Japanese temple bells
And see the white and pink blossoms
Of cherry trees blow upon
Omi Lake in spring.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Two For Nimal
for Nimal Dunuhinga
Cracked Song For Dirty Boots
This tree
grows still
a child's mind
a bedroom window
This house
this window
gone but for
frames crater
now
once was
home memory's
red dirt
O stand radiant-starred late afternoon
O stained stark shadows' black frieze
astonished stooped man
time's wee piss-boy
damp bunk-bed mattress fears
O stand glazed from edges
gaze to bark
vine maps of escape.
Iron shadows
impress long into
wet pit
sun shards
spy glass
throat sore
cracked song for dirty boots
**
Older Age, Basho In Mind
Road gets narrower
eyesight dims
even signs wave
Basho's ghost
guides with ink
HERE NOT HERE
Can't ever cross
Rainbow Bridge
Beneath it
a billet of mist
poem by Warren Falcon
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Frog
France and China feed from your demise,
Restaurateurs are not exactly chums,
Oh how they rave about your tender thighs!
Gourmand orders - another frog succumbs…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
Frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
quote by Matsuo Basho
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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