itty-bitty,
teensy-weensy,
teeny-tiny,
itsy-bitsy.
that’s how
my love has been,
always.
itty-bitty,
teensy-weensy,
teeny-tiny,
itsy-bitsy.
itty-bitty,
teensy-weensy,
teeny-tiny,
itsy-bitsy.
that’s how
my love has been,
always.
itty-bitty,
teensy-weensy,
teeny-tiny,
itsy-bitsy.
men in black,
women also.
I’ve seen them a couple of times
since I was a kid,
and some more
till I die.
Winter garden
The moon thinned to a thread
Insects singing
Wrapping dumplings in
Bamboo leaves, with one finger
She tides her hair
Wrapping the rice cakes
With one hand
She fingers back her hair
What fish feel
Birds feel, I don’t know
The year ending
Year’s end, all
Comers of this
Floating world, swept
First winter rain
Even the monkey
Seems to want a rain coat.
On New Year’s Day
I long to meet my parents
As they were before my birth.
The Lamp Once Out
Cool stars enter
The window frame.
Watch birth and death
The lotus has already
Opened its flower.
A sake barrel,
Born without hands, makes merry —
Cherry blossom time.
As evening falls,
From along the moors the autumn wind
Blows chill into the heart;
And the quails raise their plaintive cry
In the deep grass of Fukakusa village.
At night the Universe grows lean, sober-
faced, of intoxication,
The shadow of the half-sphere curtains
down closely against my world, like a
doorless cage, and the stillness chained by
wrinkled darkness strains throughout the Uni-
verse to be free.
Listen, frogs in the pond, (the world is a pond itself)
cry out for the light, for the truth!
The curtains rattle ghostlily along, bloodily biting
my soul, the winds knocking on my cabin door
with their shadowy hands.
At my daughter’s grave, Thirty days
After her death
Windy fall
These are the scarlet flowers
She liked to pick
With my father
I would watch dawn
Over green fields
That pretty girl
Munching and rustling
The wrapped up rice cake.
Pissing in the snow
Outside my door
It makes a very straight hole.
How much
Are you enjoying yourself
Tiger moth ?
In spring rain
A pretty girl
Yawning
A cuckoo sings
To me to the mountain
To me to the mountain
A bath when you are born
A bath when you die
How stupid
smelling like a crazy rose,
are you chewing a gum,
or are you a chewing gum?
once you kiss me,
you’re too sticky,
don’t ever let me;
while you hug me,
you’re so velvety,
and so slippery,
yet so sticky,
like you chewing a gum,
or you a chewing gum.
walking with my head down,
coming across a puddle,
now I find a cherry tree
in full blossom.
Once it was in full bloom,
Now it is scattering its petals.
One is here,
One is there.
you look pale,
alone in the dark staggering;
so does my life.
and you’ll be extinguished,
transient but not meaningless;
so do I wish my life would be.
twining around her waist,
making her sigh,
oh,
wanna be her belt.
My arm for a pillow,
I really like myself
under the hazy moon.
This autumn will end.
Nothing can last forever.
Fate controls our lives.
Fondle my breasts
With your strong hands.
Left on the beach
Full of water
A worn out boat
Reflects the white sky —
Of early autumn.
Swifter than hail
Lighter than a feather,
A vague sorrow
Crossed my mind.
Feeling you nearby,
how could I not come
to walk beneath
this evening moon rising
over flowering fields.
It was only
the thin thread of a cloud,
almost transparent,
leading me along the way
like an ancient sacred song.
I say his poem,
propped against this frozen wall,
in the late evening,
as bitter autumn rain
continues to fall.
What I count on
is a white birch
that stands
where no human language
is ever heard.
A bird comes
delicately as a little girl
to bathe
in the shade of my tree
in an autumn puddle.
Even at nineteen,
I had come to realize
that violets fade,
spring waters soon run dry,
this life too is transient
He stood by the door,
calling through the evening
the name of my
sister who died last year
and how I pitied him!
I am sick today,
sick in my body,
eyes wide open, silent,
I lie on the bed of childbirth.
Why do I, so used to the nearness of death,
to pain and blood and screaming,
now uncontrollably tremble with dread?
A nice young doctor tried to comfort me,
and talked about the joy of giving birth.
Since I know better than he about this matter,
what good purpose can his prattle serve?
Knowledge is not reality.
Experience belongs to the past.
Let those who lack immediacy be silent.
Let observers be content to observe.
I am all alone,
totally, utterly, entirely on my own,
gnawing my lips, holding my body rigid,
waiting on inexorable fate.
There is only one truth.
I shall give birth to a child,
truth driving outward from my inwardness.
Neither good nor bad; real, no sham about it.
With the first labor pains,
suddenly the sun goes pale.
The indifferent world goes strangely calm.
I am alone.
It is alone I am.
Press my breasts,
Part the veil of mystery,
A flower blooms there,
Crimson and fragrant.
Spring
The year’s first poem done,
with smug self confidence
a haikai poet.
Longer has become the daytime;
a pheasant is fluttering
down onto the bridge.
Yearning for the Bygones
Lengthening days,
accumulating, and recalling
the days of distant past.
Slowly passing days,
with an echo heard here in a
corner of Kyoto.
The white elbow
of a priest, dozing,
in the dusk of spring.
Into a nobleman,
a fox has changed himself
early evening of spring.
The light on a candle stand
is transferred to another candle
spring twilight.
A short nap,
then awakening
this spring day has darkened.
Who is it for,
this pillow on the floor,
in the twilight of spring?
The big gateway’s heavy doors,
standing in the dusk of spring.
Hazy moonlight —
someone is standing
among the pear trees.
Blossoms on the pear tree,
lighten by the moonlight, and there
a woman is reading a letter.
Springtime rain — almost dark,
and yet today still lingers.
Springtime rain —
a little shell on a small beach,
enough to moisten it.
Springtime rain is falling,
as a child’s rag ball is soaking
wet on the house roof.
@Summer
Within the quietness
of a lull in visitors’ absence,
appears the peony flower!
Peony having scattered, two
or three petals lie on one another.
The rain of May —
facing toward the big river, houses,
just two of them.
At a Place Called Kaya in Tanba
A summer river being crossed,
how pleasing,
with sandals in my hands!
The mountain stonecutter’s chisel;
being cooled in the clear water.
Grasses wet in the rain,
just after the festival cart passed by.
To my eyes how delightful
the fan of my beloved is,
in complete white.
A flying cuckoo,
over the Heian capital,
goes diagonally across the city.
Evening breeze —
water is slapping against
the legs of a blue heron.
An old well —
jumping at a mosquito,
the fish’s sound is dark.
Young bamboo trees —
at Hashimoto, the courtesan,
is she still there or not?
After having been fallen,
its image still stands —
the peony flower.
Stepping on the Eastern Slope
Wild roses in bloom —
so like a pathway in,
or toward, my home village.
With sorrow while coming upon the hill
–flowering wild roses.
Summer night ending so soon,
with on the river shallows still remains
the moon in a sliver.
@Autumn
It penetrates into me;
stepping on the comb of my gone wife,
in the bedroom.
More than last year,
I now feel solitude;
this autumn twilight.
This being alone may even be a kind of happy
— in the autumn dusk.
Moon in the sky’s top,
clearly passes through this
poor town street.
This feeling of sadness —
a fishing string being blown by the autumn wind.
@Winter
Let myself go to bed;
New Year’s Day is only a matter
for tomorrow.
Camphor tree roots are quietly getting wet,
in the winter rainy air.
A handsaw is sounding,
as if from a poor one,
at midnight in this winter.
Old man’s love affair;
in trying to forget it,
a winter rainfall.
In an old pond,
a straw sandal is sinking
— it is sleeting.
The sturdy men
Leave for the hunt;
The maidens
Trail the hems of scarlet skirts
Across the clean swept beach.
To my good friend
Would I show, I thought,
The plum blossoms,
Now lost to sight
Amid the falling snow.
To the fields in springtime
Picking violets
Did I come
So welcoming the fields
A single night I slept there.
When I went out
In the Spring meadows
To gather violets,
I enjoyed myself
So much that I stayed all night.
I’m a wanderer
so let that be my name –
the first winter rain
I like to wash,
the dust of this world
In the droplets of dew.
husking rice
a child squints up
to view the moon
A man, infirm
With age, slowly sucks
A fish bone.
a cuckoo cries
and through a thicket of bamboo
the late moon shines
A field of cotton–
as if the moon
had flowered.
At a hermitage:
A cool fall night–
getting dinner, we peeled
eggplants, cucumbers.
A cold rain starting
And no hat —
So?
A cicada shell;
it sang itself
utterly away.
A caterpillar,
this deep in fall–
still not a butterfly.
A bee
staggers out
of the peony.
you make the fire
and I’ll show you something wonderful:
a big ball of snow!
Your trusted source for breaking news, exclusive interviews, book reviews, trending videos and questions for Ask mom chat boxes on any topics.
Capturing the Beauty Moments.
jejak petualangan terbaik sekarang adalah mendokumentasikan dengan membuat blog
Hindi Songs Lyrics, English Song Lyrics, Latest Lyrics in Hindi and English
One teacher's view of the world around him.
The Best Way To Fly Business Travel
Sports news for sporty people!
Travel blog & Strasbourg city guide
Shootin' from the hip photography tips!
The world around through my camera's lens
Inspiration for best places to travel
Modnchic, a blog-magazine covering Internet Business & Marketing, Beauty & Health, Home & Lifestyle
Shape Your Mind, Body, and Spirit to Prosperity
STOPS ALONG THE WAY
Photography, Animals, Flowers, Nature, Sky
People Helping People.
News, Media, Rhymes, Lyrics, Articles, Blogs, Reblogs, Music, Karaoke, Animation, Technology, Science, Inspiration, Motivation and many more...
"Catatan Hati Tuk Mengenali Diri"
Situs Berita Rasional dan Akurat
Affiliate Marketing
Best Motivational Speeches
Helpful Articles And Best Recommendations - Save Immediately! - For Best Messenger Bag Seekers
Here4dBest
Ominous The Spirit is an artist that makes music, paints, and creates photography. He donates 100% of profits to charity.
Homepage Engaging the World, Hearing the World and speaking for the World.
World's Iconic News & Media Site
Likhna bha gaya {लिखना भा गया}
Discover the latest Music, Lifestyle, Fashion and Beauty news. Browse our store to find the latest must have items.
I love to write about everything. Writing relaxes me.
Worldwide DJ's about their first gig
Find What's Trending
World's Iconic News & Media Site
himalayan attitude never die.(follow for growth)