Haiku Sequence;

Beachwalkers at Sunrise

storm coming;
batten down the hatches and send
out your prayers!

crossing the bridge;
swollen autumn river
lapping at our heels!

waking abruptly;
the roar of rushing winds a thing
of my own body?

small birds ebbing
and flowing with the tide;
beachwalkers at sunrise

The Friend

I’ve placed your feet
upon the path;
you only need to trust

leave behind the world
to be and do the
things it must

sing the song of love
that lives deep within
your heart

and call upon me
day and night for we are
never apart

This was a disturbing poem, especially as a parent, to write, based on a true story as it is (the image of the first verse happened literally as told). But… I remind myself that for those of us who would “take up the plough”, obeisance to the subject matter / truth, for the poet, is all important. We are bound to follow our muse wherever it may lead, and not necessarily question or falter when difficult subject matter calls. A further reference was a family I know, who lost their daughter in her prime, and the devastation her passing wrought.

a child’s salty tears;
more precious than any
holy water!

Father, Dear Father

Father dear father,
that seed you’ve sown;
The sun, the soil
and the rain will free it!
In no time at all,
that tree will be grown,
But I won’t be
here to see it.

Son, my dear son,
in your sweet springtime,
The beat of my heart
and the black of my eye;
Who would deprive you
of your unstained prime,
And rob you of wings
yet to taste sky?

Father, dear father,
‘twould be cruel deceit,
Were silence to remain
falsely enthroned.
And to regret forthwith,
a further conceit;
I cannot see farther
than the eye has shown!

Son, my dear son,
be that as it may,
Were deception a bedfellow
I was able to bed.
As sure as the darkness
of night follows day,
I would choose over anguish,
To which I’m now wed!

Father dear father,
that seed you’ve sown,
The sun, the soil
and the rain will free it;
In no time at all,
that tree will be grown…
But I won’t be
here to see it!

Saturday 15 02 2025

Haiku Sequence;

Morning Parley

fierce thunderclap –
a dream scurrying away,
never to return!

living in mist;
a pair of swallows huddling,
not ready to fly away

lovers embracing;
last night’s tears forgotten
(till next time)

morning parley;
my mantle of dewdrops for
a sliver of golden light?

28 01 2025

This re-post is in reply to the images of samurai posted above by AHH;

A meditation on the “Way of the Warrior”. Events described are derived from the
Genpei War – circa late 12th Century in Japan, and specifically, the fierce “Naval
Battle of Dan-no-una” where the warring clans, the Minamato, aka the Genji, and
the Taira (t-EH-ee-i-ra), aka the Heike, fought their final battle. With the Minamato
triumph, the Shogun era (essentially military dictatorship) was ushered in to last for 700 years.

https://www.artelino.com/articles/naval_battle_dannoura.asp

The Way of the Warrior

They fought like lions, paying their dues,
With no place to flee and nothing to lose.
Expecting no quarter, giving none in return –
The way of the warrior, of fire interned!

By noon that riptide had begun to relent,
The fury of the Heike was all but spent;
The drunken tiger lay on the seabed –
His fleet in disarray, the Emperor dead!

“A fortress I’ll build, a sturdy redoubt!”
The Empress mother swore at her army’s pullout;
“Where the mountain meets the waters that churn –
At far Kobe we shall adjourn!”

As night closed in on that battered old quay,
A company of horsemen had gathered at the scree;
Nestled in that bluff and surrounded by sea –
That demon lay hobbled for all to see!

When fire began to rain from above,
The fates foreswore that labour of love;
Neither rain, sleet nor hail could begin to quell,
The flames that engulfed the citadel!

The Taira elite once again stayed fate,
Scooped up by their armada anchored in the strait;
But the Genji and the Heike would once again meet,
In the waters off Shikoku in dawn’s red heat!

They fought like lions paying their dues,
With nowhere to run and nothing to lose.
Expecting no quarter, giving none in return –
The way of the warrior, of fire interned!

Holding him close in her watery descent,
Through the bodies and the blood and the excrement;
That jiji maddened and the boy foredoomed –
His breath expelled, his life consumed!

By noon that riptide had begun to relent,
The fury of the Heike was all but spent;
The drunken tiger lay on the seabed –
His fleet in disarray, the young Emperor dead!

As night closes in on those forced to flee,
Ill omened or cited by destiny;
A samurai true, when called to the task,
Does not hesitate, nor does he ask…

Drunken Tiger: samurais were referred to as drunken tigers, ie; drunk with righteousness (here referring to General Tomomori, who, mortally wounded, tied an anchor to his waist and lept overboard.

jiji: an affectionate term for grandmother, referring to the Emporer, a boy of six, and the moment his grandmother committed them both to a watery grave, death being preferrable to shame.

scree: a rubble of stones at the bottom of a cliff

“That demon lay hobbled”:  this is a reference to the great fortress built by the Taira, “furrowed into a mountain and surrounded by sea”, which, in spite of a violent storm, lit up like a bonfire after the young general Yoshitsuné rained flaming arrows onto the fine woodwork of its rooves, ramparts etc.

The final stanza refers to the great Minamato general, Yoshitsune, who, having bee the brilliant strategist behind the Minamato victory, was then condemned to death by his elder brother, Yoshitomo, to death. Yoshitomo would go on to become Shogun.

Yoshitsune fled with his family, (he had taken a Taira noble as a wife, hence the decree from the Shogun), and, seeing no chance of escape, murdered his entire family, before committing hara-kiri himself. And all this before the age of thirty!

I couldn’t resist adding this reply from ioan, not to aggrandize myself, but to hear his voice again;

ioan; What a history poem, Dimitar… And your explanations as a crown to it…beautiful! Dimitar as I told you, you have a great talent, your poetry will be better and better.

The Contemplative

the light of reason
dispels the darkness of night
enveloping soul

mountains of passion;
the heart must become as
firm as a diamond!

lopping off the branches
and cutting through the roots
of the tree of evil;
the sword of wisdom!

the contemplative;
scattering the clouds that veil
the celestial light of the moon

neither gold nor jewels
sway the man who is master
of his destiny

What Will It Be?

what will it be;
fear or love?
it’s up to you!

there are those who build
and those who destroy;
be a builder and not a destroyer!

the golden heart;
dispelling darkness as it
lights the way for all

the key to understanding
the Spirit of Life; letting go
and letting God!

dreaming your dream;
building the bridge to your outer world
one day at a time

an invisible summit
on an invisible mountain,
only you can see!

healing depends
upon the individual;
how conscious is Soul?

one with the one
within the one; your atoms
teach my atoms!

and when,
on that fateful day, the
question had been posed
to all of God’s creation, from
the depths of mud and fire,
to the arc of the Empyrean –
“Who hast forgotten?”,
a tiny voice spoke up;
“Not I”, said the fly!

Thanks for the beautiful poem, Sudhi; I couldn’t resist this reply… Happy New Year!