Friday, December 3, 2010

Haiku postings Nov 29 - Dec 3 2010

more than fire
can burn up

stirring song from the
old roman column
stork's nestlings

yokohama Symbol Tower
we reach the utmost
of our stamina

bahrain male doctor's dilemma
see but dont look when
checking women's genitals

flickering birthday candles
she steadies herself to
blow them all out

big bang
it too starts
with a liquid

this body
a mere instrument
to God

your thumb print
my thumb print

first snow
the geisha powders herself
whiter than usual

earth are you
the only one in the universe
that breathes?

first snow
the roads and rail
in a snarl

what is written there what is not
there too

nature's way to help us savour

I asked the myanmar waitor
whether it is a rough ride
from yangon to mandalay
and he replied that the road is good
it looks like i will be my own rough
road in my travel there

good and evil try to find
a balance in the man

It was such an embarrassment. The editor accepted my contributions, and asked for my bio. I wrote back with the note: this is my bio. I did write a bit about the awards that I won but that's not really the problem. She never even bothered to erase the line This is my Bio...making me look so pompous in the succeeding lines. I will be very careful next time when submitting to magazine.

muay thai
loud speakers roar
through phuket streets

Femme fatale
the artist distils every inch of her
on the canvas

femme fatale
every inch of her touched
the artist's brush

femme fatale
with a brush the artist helps
her bloom on the canvas

femme fatale
the artist helps her soul live on
on his canvas

i am not into the things on the painting
they can be lousy squares, imperfect circles,
a windtorn spider web or or a downed pyramid
i am into the things they evoke in me
unblocking the minds from the mundane
thoughts held bondage by suicidal conventions

evening candles
on the wall shadow
dances with light

lips and lips of smile
in the lake

To sample haiku into one big magazine is not the way to treat haiku. it is like putting people into a concentration camp. you cannot really enjoy them. haiku has to be encountered each like a new friend on the street. They cannot come into your life like a noisy intruding crowd.

new day
the children in the school
waking me up

Poetry is more than food. It helps bring together all the consciousness of my existence, even those days when I lived as a worm