Poems   詩


      In a chaos'ed world of words and thoughts we lurch and squirm and try to think we search thought ideas and try to reconstruct memory in novel logical creative ways, we struggle we try, err, give up.                     A white grain of sand under the tide's force is pushe to and fro, where shall it settle, will it fit in?

 15.03.2007 --dedicated to my sister, whose birthday it was two days ago. - a white grain of sand, a lovely chip off a beautiful shell, on a brazilian beach, mixing in and finding her place.



To Antxoka.

Because I love you,

 I smile.

Because I love you, 

I see.

Because I love you, 

I am.


... Shall we go?

Pull, stress, tug, create 

 bend, squeeze, twist, create

 streach, tangle,lift, create

only one cell, then a whole billion cell mountain human.


 *****  **  *

A wave rippled in the atom sky.

it was me.

it was fun.

01.12.2006 Title: Think.


A butterfly winked at me, it threw away its wings and kissed me, it taught me how to fly and sent me to the flowers, from that day onwards my life seeks only colours and sweetness. Colours and sweetness. Light and molecules, energy conserved energy, energy all to satiate my need to see flowers and fly and dream with that butterfy. 01.12.2006


   In a courtyard I sat, at a well in the corner I glanced, on the yellow pale butterfly I set eyes, on that momnent I was happy, and it flew by.



                               A Pond.          17/06/06

Daydreaming, smiling, asking, wanting.

Flowers, beads, chest, lips. 

Days, nights.

A tear and a pond.          ... We all think, we all smile, we all cry. 




A dry red leaf.                                                                                8.3.06         Dew on its tip.                     Leaf .                                                           Light shines on it.                                                                                           It falls, but doesn't reach the ground.

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 Recently, on reading a poem a friend was translating, I was inspired to write one in response. The original poem by Edwin Morgan is here. It is called Strawberies. and my one is as follows: 

 Strawberry.                                               (19.03.2006)

The best I had
I was 12
my hands were cold
the earth was black

I tugged hard at the stock
it was green and strong
it din't surrender
I won.

I don't like fights
I don't like struggles
but I do like strawberries
this was the best.

My lips touched the cold surface
I didn't know it was sexy.
I bit into it slowly,
every milimeter a surprise.

I didn't finish biting
I pulled it away from the other half,
slowly new texures formed within the fruit
the next bite was different.

I was big I discovered somethign new.

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Best quote for me now:  I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. (Douglas Adams, author of the rough guide to the galaxy) here      (11.03.06) - Two weeks before my dissertation deadline. 


It's Funny how fo rmating is So iMportanT when Writing pOETRY.. isn'T it      ?     : )


 谷 山       の     咲 奥       か   に           は     

          黒             川


Recenly, on reading this poem to my mum, she expressed her desire for a translation. I declined, feeling that too much would be lost  from the original. Today, reading the following passage, I decided to write one: "When a feeling reaches its highest pitch, we remain silent, even 17 sylables may be too many. Japanese artists... influenced by the way of Zen tend to use the fewest words or strokes of brush to express their feelings. When they are too fully expressed no room for suggestion is possible, and suggestibility is the secret of the Japanese arts."


Deep mountains,


and a rose...