Tag Archives: love

Staircase at Fifteen

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staircase

Staircase at Fifteen

Ascending, her centrifugal
influence captures me

and I follow,
breathless,
witless, wordless,

despite all longing
and shared

discretions, despite
the thundering
pulse
and the incessant
demand to act
or run.

She pauses, looks
down, sees
nothing.

Suddenly freed,
spinning off
and slowing down,
shrinking,

far below, on equal
footing but so
apart,

never to meet
in truth, unable
to define direction or

motive, I remain
fixed as she moves
higher, far away, close

but up,
always up.

planetarium

December Moon (1999)

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december moon

December Moon (1999)

If loneliness breathes,
then rain is its heart,

always falling to its lowest point
before receding. Water graces us

daily in all its forms – the slowest
drop, the line of ice on the wall,

your breath, so soft and even
in the cool night. But no one,

no thing, can fill the void of
departure. You exhale and turn

away, and the air, with its empty
arms, embraces the space

you’ve left. I feel this daily,
whenever we part. At forty-one

I’ve known you half my life
but have loved you even longer,

through the millennium’s demise
and all that preceded or follows.

The brightest moon for a century to come
is but a shadow in your light.

It’s hard to believe that I wrote this nearly sixteen years ago. Busy with books, work and life, I didn’t write much in the nineties. But this, the last poem of that decade, recently surfaced. The sentiments are as true today as they were then. I am a lucky man.

streetfog

Day Twenty-two, Tupelo Press 30/30 Project

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origami

Eight days to go, with three title sponsorships still available! Who will challenge Ron and Plain Jane for the worst title in the history of the Tupelo 30-30 Project? Can anyone rival Jeff’s title for length? Do I hear 80 words? A hundred? Or Stephanie’s for brevity (one four-letter  – but not that kind of four-letter – word)? Anyone?

“Setting Fire to the Origami Crane (the One Floating on Muscongus Bay) at Sunset” is among the Day Twenty-two offerings of the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project (9 poets have agreed to write 30 poems apiece in 30 days, to raise funds for Tupelo Press, a non-profit literary publisher). Many thanks to Jilanne Hoffman, who sponsored and provided the title.

Setting Fire to the Origami Crane (the one floating on Muscongus Bay) at Sunset

Who is to say which comes first, the flaming crane
or the sunset’s burst just over the horizon

and under the clouds? There are causes and causations,
an illness named bad air and another attributed to wolf…

To see the rest of the poem, click here

Tomorrow’s poem is titled “Ode to Being Placed on Hold,” thanks to the kindness and generosity of artist/writer Mary “marso” of the blog “marsowords.”

I hope that the sponsored titles and my responses to them have been entertaining, but other sponsorship opportunities abound. For information on these and their corresponding incentives, click here.

“Name That Poem” sponsorships are still available for Wednesday through Sunday. Conjure up a title (be creative, be weird, be gentle, be poetic, oh, heck, be mean if you wish), donate $10 to Tupelo Press, let me know what the title is, and I’ll write the poem. The  sponsored poems thus far have been a blast to write, and the titles have led me to poems I’d not otherwise have written. If you’re so inclined, please visit the 30/30 blog at: Donate to Tupelo. Scroll down to “Is this donation in honor of a 30/30 poet?” and select my name, “Robert Okaji,” from the pull down so that Tupelo knows to credit the donation to me. And please let me know as soon as possible what your title is.

Thank you for your support! Only 8 poems remaining!

Day Twenty-one, Tupelo Press 30/30 Project

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waterfront

“Before We Knew” is among the Day Twenty-one offerings of the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project (9 poets have agreed to write 30 poems apiece in 30 days, to raise funds for Tupelo Press, a non-profit literary publisher). Many thanks to Ursula, who sponsored and provided the title.

Before We Knew

All thought of consequence
melted with that first touch
of tongue to skin, no respite
to be found in that heat…

To see the rest of the poem, click here

Tomorrow’s poem is titled “Setting Fire to the Origami Crane (the One Floating on Muscongus Bay) at Sunset,” thanks to the kindness and generosity of Jilanne Hoffman.

I hope that the sponsored titles and my responses to them have been entertaining, but other sponsorship opportunities abound. For information on these and their corresponding incentives, click here.

“Name That Poem” sponsorships are still available for Monday and beyond. Conjure up a title (be creative, be weird, be gentle, be poetic, oh, heck, be mean if you wish), donate $10 to Tupelo Press, let me know what the title is, and I’ll write the poem. The  sponsored poems thus far have been a blast to write, and the titles have led me to poems I’d not otherwise have written. If you’re so inclined, please visit the 30/30 blog at: Donate to Tupelo. Scroll down to “Is this donation in honor of a 30/30 poet?” and select my name, “Robert Okaji,” from the pull down so that Tupelo knows to credit the donation to me. And please let me know as soon as possible what your title is.

Thank you for your support! Only 9 poems to go!

In This I Find You Again

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image

In This I Find You Again

If there is truth to be found
let someone find it. The yellow

rose rests in its jar. Day and
night it looks out through the glass

at the world of altered
lines, sensing, perhaps, beauty

through its failure to prevent
fading. Each morning I wake

and think of you. The hibiscus
on our patio readies itself to blossom,

but pauses as if to prolong
the moment, waiting for a reason

to end its denial. Then it unfolds.
You are all I care to find.

image

Tree

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DSC_0009

Tree

where you go
the wind follows
as if no

choice remains but
that of sun
and oak an

attraction such that
limbs curve to
light a certainty

which cautions us
to intrude lest
we lose all

sight and sense
of beauty you
are this tree

A Walk Through the Live Oaks

Sheng-yu’s Lament (after Mei Yao-ch’en)

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DSC_1243

Sheng-yu’s Lament (after Mei Yao-ch’en)

First heaven took my wife,
and now, my son.
These eyes will never dry
and my heart slowly turns to ash.
Rain seeps far into the earth
like a pearl dropped into the sea.
Swim deep and you’ll see the pearl,
dig in the earth and you’ll find water.
But when people return to the source,
we know they’re gone forever.
I touch my empty chest and ask, who
is that withered ghost in the mirror?

The transliteration on Chinese-poems.com reads:

Heaven already take my wife
Again again take my son
Two eyes although not dry
(Disc) heart will want die
Rain fall enter earth in
Pearl sink enter sea deep
Enter sea can seek pearl
Dig earth can see water
Only person return source below
Through the ages know self (yes)
Touch breast now ask who
Emaciated mirror in ghost
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Nine Ways of Shaping the Moon [#FullMoonSocial2014]

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Written in response to Jeff Schwaner’s invitation to this evening’s Full Moon Social Party. I’m kicking off the festivities by pairing the poem with a glass of chilly Jaume Serra Cava, accompanied by a tad of Cypress Grove’s Humboldt Fog soft-ripening goat cheese on a slice of crusty baguette, with a handful of grapes and almonds. Cheers!

Nine Ways of Shaping the Moon
– for Lissa

1
Tilt your head and laugh
until the night bends
and I see only you.

2
Weave the wind into song.
Rub its fabric over your skin.
For whom does it speak?

3
Remove all stars and streetlights.
Remove thought, remove voice.
Remove me. But do not remove yourself.

4
Tear the clouds into threads
and place them in layered circles.
Then breathe slowly into my ear.

5
Drink deeply. Raise your eyes to the brightness
above the cedars. Observe their motion
through the empty glass. Repeat.

6
Talk music to me. Talk conspiracies
and food and dogs and rain. Do this
under the wild night sky.

7
Harvest red pollen from the trees.
Cast it about the room
and look through the haze.

8
From the bed, gaze into the mirror.
The reflection you see is the darkness
absorbing your glow.

9
Fold the light around us, and listen.
You are the moon in whose waters
I would gladly drown.

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Visit Jeff’s blog, Translations from the English, at http://jeffschwaner.com/

WordPress tag: fullmoonsocial2014

Draft: Valentine’s Day Sonnet

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If You Were a Guitar

If you were a guitar I would play you
till my fingers grew rough from your body’s
touch, till the moisture in the clouds withdrew
and only music rained down. But what breeze

could retain your voice? At night my hands would
dream new chords of light and air, of pearl and
flesh and warm breath suspended over wood.
And as we slept our bodies would demand

completion, and the space would diminish
till nothing lay between us but the sly
notes singing through our veins, replenish-
ing each other’s thirst. When I say hope, I

mean you. When I whisper nothing, my
silence shouts your name. Each breath. Every sigh.