Subsistence

Leaf by leaf it sheds itself bare,
this lanky tree on the roadside,

standing under a harsh sun
on soil gravelly and dry.


Unlike the big lads across the road
it has no air of longevity:

its peeling bark is paper-thin
and its branches mere twigs.


Still it seems to placidly survive,
the scant leaves clinging;

its stick of a trunk stays well upright,
rising above the weeds.


Through long days of heat and dust
and intermittent rain

it somehow manages to keep on sprouting
just enough green.


Standing in the occasional breeze
under a sky never short of light,

leaf by leaf it regrows its crown,
this lanky tree on the roadside.


---


The above is the poem I wrote for and submitted to NLB Read!Fest 2015 Be A Poetry on Platforms Star Poet contest. I got a commemorative EZ-Link card for the participation. :)

While searching for a theme to write on, I remembered Carpark 15, sort of my "comfort reading" that evokes the soothing memory of a pleasant, breezy late-afternoon scenery. I wanted to write something with a similar feel for the contest, hence the "tree" theme and the similar structure.

I'm afraid this piece turned out not as pleasantly evocative as Carpark 15... Then again, I suspect the pleasant imagery I associated with Carpark 15 is really just my personal nostalgia and not much what the words do. Ah well. ^_^;

Centum

I think of the word reliable (100).
I think of the word reliant (100:0).

I think of the word division (50:50).
I think of the word collaboration (x:y, x+y=100, x>0, y>0).

Then I think of how my hundred does not equal your hundred.
I think of how one's hundred makes up x < 100.

Then I think

Fifty percent from you and fifty percent from me
is contribution.

But to do this together
means a hundred percent of you and a hundred percent of me.

Benefit of the Doubt

I want to be understanding
But all I understand are my own assumptions
Because I don't know how to ask the questions
Because I don't know if I should ask at all.

I can't say I don't want to do this alone
While I still believe in doing it my way
I can't say I want to rely on you
While I don't trust enough to let go.

I want to give you the benefit of the doubt
But doubt is somehow the operative word here
Not just of you but of me
Because I can't figure how else things should be
Because I can't figure what the question really is.

cloudy with a chance of firewalls

clouds overhead are overrunning the sky
dearies, this is really not the time
i'll love you at sunset, and i'll love you at sunrise,
but please won't you let me have my planets and stars when it's night?

Indigo

Beautiful world,
Beautiful sky,
Beautiful life;
Why the unhappiness, girl?

Just a hill to climb,
Just a cloud passing by,
Just a matter of time;
Why the impatience, girl?

A hill in bloom,
A cloud golden,
A company beloved;
Why the unhappiness, girl?

One Third

Only got a hundred years to live

And so much still to be done,
more still that can be done,

that I wonder if the next-life-I
will still be working on what I'm working on now,
adding, improving, (if ever) completing...

But it takes so long to grow up,
    to learn, to understand;
it takes so much to reach this place;

that perhaps the present-life-I

    having grown into the right circumstances,
                                            (I think)
    having met the right teachers,
                                            (I believe)

had better not count on that other hundred,

    not even on the rest of this hundred,

only now--

to do, do, do
as much as can be done.

This day has passed, and your life too has lessened.
Like a fish running short of water, for what do you rejoice?
Strive on diligently now, as if putting out a fire on your head.
May you be mindful of the transience, and be cautious not to be slack.
-- Samantabhadra Bodhisattva

ただ

好きって、こんな感じだな。
ただ君の顔を見る。
ただ君が笑って聞く。
ただ君の存在を知っている。

Signs

She was nine, wide-eyed, holding on to her father's hand as the vast darkness dizzied above.
"That is Vega; that is Altair."
He taught her the signs.
"And there Deneb is; summer is coming."

She was sixteen, impressionable, dreaming up romances she and the boy had run out of time for.
"That is Vega; that is Altair."
He kissed her goodbye.
"And there Deneb is; they'll meet again."

Summer arrives, and is past, as lovers come to be and to part.
"That is Vega; that is Altair."
Time moves stories as it does the stars.
"And there Deneb is; right by the Great Rift."

She is forty, farsighted, having traveled more constellations than legends reach.
"That is Vega; that is Altair."
Sometimes things mean simply what they seem.
"And there Deneb is; the sky is clear."

Memento

Let this be a reminder of our common ground,
of how everything is right
even when everything may change;

Let this be a reminder should everything change,
if ever I lose sight of all you give
in the face of what I crave;

Let this be a reminder that above what struggle may come,
with heart and mind, feel and reason
I do love you.

邂逅

坐在對面的女士
望車窗外望人群
目光瞬間碰見了
不好意思微微笑

雖是無名人海中
該也同我有故事
過著某樣的生活
有願有煩有心思

只用臉孔打招呼
面後包含路一程
個個完整的自己
點點滴滴是人生

In Other Words, A Tropical Winter

つながった
冬の星座

Once again Orion tells me that winter is here,
a kinder sign than the cold that bites my skin.
Ah, winter has come, year by year,
even to this land that has only sun and rain.
And the world churns out songs of snow,
of feelings white that keep you warm;
tunes ringing with the longing you'd know
despite a climate tens of degrees off.

Yes, winter is here,
the season dancing in the sounds,
the season written in the stars;
and with none* of the freezing it still lets me glimpse
icy lands far and foreign,
frosty wonders my eyes have never seen.


* Except for the illusion of it on fingertips and such extremities.

扉

次々に歌を聞き返す
君の脳裏を知っていないけど
君の思想を理解したいから。

曲も詞もちゃんと感じ取る
君の心に入れないけど
君の世界を認めたいから。

Little Happiness

me and my bits of happiness
a sound,
a sight.

we and our bits of happiness
a touch,
a smile.

側にある天壌

彼女は
私に似てるから
大切な人だ。
(the earth,
the gravity that keeps me grounded)
「これは悪くない」と
「このままでいい」と
人世は大丈夫。
私たちは大丈夫。

彼女は
私と異なるから
大切な人だ。
(the horizon,
the momentum that keeps me growing)
「そんな事もある」と
「そのままでいい」と
人世は不思議。
私たちは不思議。

Gray City

When it rains it rains so slowly,
In the city where I'm from.
-- Turin Brakes, "Rain City"

Dusk comes easily enough,
no red nor yellow to chase off the horizon.
Muted colours like white noise implode,
overflowed with drops immaterialized.

In my mind, the words he sang:
"It's raining on Sunday morning..."

King of melancholy, child of gloom!
Where can I find salvation for us both?


Evenings like this I get unquiet,
when beneath the black is not clear distant sky.
Never relied on the moon for light,
but space feels bitter when stars too hide.

In my mind, the song he wrote:
"Sparkling gems are flooding the streets..."

Lyra, Sagitta, Cygnus, Aquila!
When may I delight upon your radiance?


Cold it might be when the waters fall,
chilling all the more when they linger.

My heart still ponders the soulful refrain:
"It's raining on--"

Language is a Virus (from Outer Space)

Listening ears are temptation indeed
to talk,
checked only by the amount of trust
placed on the owner.

Communication is needed
and food for feelings,
but in idle chatter devils keep watch,
and mood is fickle
   that feeds argument seeds.

Oh, would that I'd chosen what was golden
and always knew when to choose it,

because
diction and tone and lingual flavors
make for a complex interpretation control;

because
human speech as it stands
has no reversible editing functions;

because
even in the harmless case
I take 'mundane' to a whole new level--

--for instance,
the urge to share at this very moment,
how the thematic word 'babble'
led me to the connoted-punitive 'Babel'--

so perhaps
only if you're a lit enthusiast, kindred spirit,
I'd suggest to click on these further reading links.

Uranoleon

Through clouds rich the strips of orange sun flares,
as yesterday it has been a full sphere burning cumulus black,
through day passing that has seen it golden upon bluest blue,
to the pale and the fierce of depths across shades of vermilion.

Sky, adored sky,
like life,
beautiful because you're looking like that,
fascinating because you're never the same.

advocatus diaboli

There are no perfect men in this world,
only perfect intentions.
-- Pen Densham

He, the voice within who asks for perfection,
is he a friend or a foe?
He who frowns at the world's defects,
-- pained by them, rages at them --
he who demands a wholesome self,
is he for better or for worse?

She, the voice within who asks for perfection,
is she a friend or a foe?
She who judges poor-mannered folks,
-- pained by them, looks down on them --
she who detests indulgence in flaws,
is she for better or for worse?

The Land of Shadow

So all's to be rain clouds today,
gray upon gray upon gray?
Won't you let me see again
    cliffs red, ocean yellow,
    desert crowned silver halo,
that enchanting trophosperic land?

The Elements of Companionship

I want to believe there is nothing sacred about love. That it is as commonplace as the smile you exchange with the nameless someone who works on the same floor. That it is as down to earth as the passion you pour into your art. That you can have much of it to give to many.

I want to believe there is nothing complicated about love. That it is as easygoing as extending your arm to a frail woman alighting from the bus. That it is as natural as greeting your elders at the dining table. That it can come and go leaving your heart as capable of it as before.

And then there is trust.