Flowers
How they share our
desires, shape
our days.
Passion to hope,
fingertips to
lips. Some bud
easily, others
struggle. A little
water, light, a kind
voice. Sometimes so
little achieves
so much. Yesterday’s
sunflower droops on
the sill. Today’s promise
arrives with rain.
These two pieces were written about a dozen years ago. Unlike most of what I write, they emerged quickly and whole, appearing on the page then almost as they do now in Eclectica. Not trusting the ease with which they’d slipped into existence, I set them aside, intending to return to them with a new eye at some point. A few months ago, while digging through a pile of fragments and unfinished pieces, mostly crap, I must admit, these popped up. They’re okay, I thought. Better than I remember. So I dusted them off and released them into the world.
http://www.eclectica.org/v18n3/okaji.html
If you have the time, you might read poetry editor Jen Finstrom’s section in “From the Editors.” http://www.eclectica.org/v18n3/editors.html She discusses her selection process, how the work in each issue seems to find a common thread – perhaps an image, or theme – and that she looks for these connections. Oddly enough, in this issue, two poems bear the same title, “Memorial Day.” One of them is mine.
Abused, abandoned and left to die of thirst or predation more than a dozen years ago on a largely uninhabited county road terminating at our rural property’s entrance, Jackboy brought much laughter and comfort to our household. Tireless shadow, friend, writing partner, loyal companion and protector, he was, and will remain forever, a good boy – in his estimation, the highest possible praise. It has been two days. We miss him.
Jackboy’s Pride
Through patience,
recognition eases in: the patterns
of repetition and praise
and joy in task. The orange ball. A scorpion’s
tail. How we delight in sharing each
victory. And with the breeze
runs other unspoken tales – a neighbor’s
cruelty, bones, the pregnant raccoon
lumbering through the cedars. But nothing
deters the jump and the following drop.
He nips heels where none exist. We follow.
Another attempt at adapting Li Po. A note on Chinese-poems.com stated “at this time, the breaking of a willow twig was part of formal leave-taking.”
Laolao Ting Pavilion (after Li Po)
Where do more hearts break under heaven?
This sad pavilion, where visitors part,
the spring wind whispers bitter goodbyes
and willow twigs never mend.
Transliteration from Chinese-poems.com:
Heaven below damage heart place
Laolao see off visitor pavilion
Spring wind know parting sorrow
Not send willow twig green.
Few essays on writing poetry grab me by the collar, slam me against the wall, and say “Listen, dammit!” But this one did.
Camille Dungy’s words sear through the fog. She tells it slant. She tells it true. She explains how some masters have done it. If you’ve not read her poetry, seek it out. You’re in for a treat. If you have the good fortune to attend a lecture or reading by her, do so. She’s energetic, wise and kind. She knows.
Some of you may be interested in these fellowships, most of which have no entry fees:
http://creativegenius.hubpages.com/hub/Fellowships-Writers-Poets
Thanks to Brian Scott, for providing this resource!
Yet another adaptation. This was a bit more difficult than other recent pieces, in part because I wanted more detail in the first line. With some difficulty, I refrained from adding it.
To Tu Fu (after Li Po)
I arrive, finally, at this:
above me, Shaqiu City
among the ancient trees
and the autumn winds at sunset.
Lu wine can’t make me drunk,
These songs do nothing for me.
My thoughts flow to you like the
Wen River on its journey south.
And here’s the transliteration on Chinese-poems.com:
Sent to Du Fu below Shaqiu City
I come finally what thing
High lie Sha qiu city
City beside are ancient trees
Sun set join autumn sounds
Lu wine not can drunk
Qi song vain again feel
Think you resemble Wen water
Mighty immense send south journey
I’ve three poems appearing in Boston Poetry Magazine: http://bostonpoetry.wordpress.com/tag/robert-okaji/
Another adaptation…
Peach Blossom
Ask why I stay on the green mountain
and I smile but do not answer; my heart rests.
A peach blossom floats downstream –
Heaven and earth, apart from this world.
The transliteration on Chinese-poems.com is as follows:
Ask me what reason stay green mountain
Smile but not answer heart self idle
Peach blossom flow water far go
Apart have heaven earth in human world
There the poem is titled “Question and Answer on the Mountain.”
Note: an alternative reading of the last line is “apart from” the human world.
