Tag: nature

Bleak Horizon
( From the Chinese of Ma Chih-yuan  [ ?1260 – ?1334 CE ] )

Shrivelled vines, aged trees; crows there in the dusk.
A little bridge, a dribbling stream, now someone’s hut.
An ancient road, the west wind, his emaciated horse…
past this heart-stricken man at the edge of the sky,
westward the twilight sun departs.


Clear River Song
( From the Chinese of Ma Chih-yuan  [ ?1260 – ?1334 CE ] )

Woodman, astir! The mountain moon hangs low!
The old fisherman has come to call on you!
You cast aside your firewood and axe.
I’ll take my time and beach my boat.
Let’s find a cosy corner to relax!


Plum Blossom Chant
( From the Chinese of Mei-hua Ne [ Yuan: no dates available ] )

Till the end of day I searched for Spring,
but Spring could not be found,
my shoes of grass worn out by treading
the mountain-tops in cloud.
When I returned I gave a smile,
for toying with plum-blossom, smelled,
already at the branch’s end –
Spring1 Multiplied ten times!



( From my collection ‘Beneath the Silver River: Translations of Classical Chinese Poetry’ )



Note: The Yuan was the Mongol-led dynasty which ruled over China 1280-1368 CE.

The first two ‘Song-Poems’, by Ma Chih-yuan, were originally taken from Yuan period drama. The tune title of the first is Sky-Clear Sand. To accord with its uncompromisingly drear content I’ve given it the poem title which appears above (this poem I took as the basis for   … to Seek, at Last, The Hollow Land which appeared very recently in The Igam-Ogam Mabinogion under the main article title Westward Walking). The title of his second, welcomingly brighter-themed poem remains that of the befitting tune-title, Clear River Song; this is one of the many early Chinese poems which extolls rustic companionship.

The third song-poem, Plum Blossom Chant, is an engaging piece which stands on its own. The poet’s name, Mei-hua Ne, translates as ‘Plum Blossom Sister’, and in the sole example I’ve come across of this poem, John Turner refers to her as ‘a Buddhist nun’, which seems appropriate and plausible enough.

‘Distillations’ – These are Haikuform pieces, brief three-liners intended to express the core essence of a subject through using the most minimal sequence of words. The main heading of the article says there are sixty-six, and as it has a nice sound to it the title has been kept, although I see that on the last count there were seventy-seven; it’s possible that by now, a good while later,  there are eighty-eight. The sixty-six and the nine or ten additions were written within a short period toward the end of last year and the beginning of this, when circumstances determined that my poetry-posting field should lie fallow awhile. I must have over five-hundred of these ‘distillations’ altogether; but ’the sixty-six’ were fresh recruits hurriedly mobilized to serve in an interim February article – and now it’s June. [*Of the main five-hundred, sixteen were posted under the title Medley: The Sounds, Silance, and Scenes of Open Spaces in the Aug.-Oct. 2022 section of ‘The Ig-Og’]. The term ‘distillations’ I borrowed from Clark Ashton Smith, who assisted Japanese literateur Kenneth Yasuda in his superlative study of traditional Japanese Haiku in the West, and which persuaded Smith to experiment further with minimal forms. ‘Haikuform’, ‘Haikuesque’, ‘Haikutype’ … anyone who is fully acquainted with traditional Japanese Haiku will soon see that the majority of the short pieces which appear below are not at all Haiku in the 17-syllable 5-7-5 arrangement (which continues to persist among a fair number of English language Haiku aficionados) although some may either by serendipity or with overall result in mind fall in with the pattern. Many of them, though, do conform to some of traditional Haiku’s more important – and for effect very necessary – conventions. Traditional Japanese Haiku’s adaptation into an English-language setting has not come without various transformations.

Minimal poetry demands that a great deal must be concentrated in a very small space, and a successful, truly effective economy of words is not all that easily attained. Some of those below will be seen as less successful than others. Before dipping in, then, as I hope you will, I’d just like to say this about these short and simple-seeming poems:  Many of the topics are very ordinary, it’s agreed; but how often do we home in upon the core dynamism of an ordinary moment, actually take hold of it and weigh our thoughts, or half-thoughts, or fleeting sensations, or those of any passing, mundane happening? The crystallization of such moments – their intrinsic, unexpressed meaning most often overlooked – is what these short pieces are about. Some, no doubt, even with this as a goal, fall short of the mark: others, those outside the immediately experiential, such as those wholly imaginary or of flippantly humorous intent, can be seen as foxes in that fold; but If just a small number of the ’sixty-six’ cause you either to knit your brows contemplatively for a second or so, or raise a small smile, or give you the feeling of ‘Yes, that’s how is’, then I feel those will have succeeded.

Now and again in these posts I’m prone to include a word – most often a name – which by virtue of its outlandishness and hopefully its unfamiliarity to most is calculated to puzzle, the strategy being to propel the inquisitive into an impassioned investigation of the obscure (‘Victor’ and his geometric smile will almost certainly be well-known enough to be dismissed this role). Bowing, now, to a superstition about favourable and unfavourable numbers and at a final count having seen that there were indeed an inauspicious eighty-eight of these ‘distillations’, I’ve looted the original five-hundred for a further few in order to hurriedly head for ninety-nine. But just to be on the safe side – Dalmatians.



****************



Journeyman

The Shadow’s chasing you.
You have to move!
Find, poor fool, your love.


Neighbours

Mrs.Black meets
Mrs.Brown. Eyes
in every window spy.


Looking Back

Patches of sunlight.
Chances not taken – Piper, please!
A different tune …


Autumn Evening

Fields, trees, houses
stand out stark, till … gone!
The night takes hold.


Studying the Flames, and Thinking

Nice, by the fire.
Glad I’m not in it,
tied fast, screaming.


Travellers

We drift into sleep …
closed shadow-world. While Earth
ploughs deep through the void.


Loan

Winter sun
just setting – lends fire
to my face.


Roof

Cat lies on the tiles …
all swaying tail
and cunning eyes.


Accomplice

Night’s cloak, party to
the trysting of all lovers …
and all rogues.


Lost in France

School French? The natives
twig it! Why’d they reply
in rapid gibberish?


Clocktor’s Orders

My clocktor says
to get some sleep.
My book says not.


Not Invited

‘It’s really warm’,
winks the clock to the fire.
Rain hammers at the panes.


Paramour

Print’s dancing.
Please, a para more before …
Book’s on the floor.


Gatherings

We sit; we laugh.
Loved tales repeat. But
daylight hovers to go.


Ingrates?

I treat my books
respectfully. But do they care
a toss for me?


Ecstasy

Picking bogies
in the sun. Flicking them
at everyone.


Gion Geisha

Samisen
sedately tinkles. Sensual
Geisha giggles.


Not Fair!

Clocks tick in the dark.
Oi! While we’re asleep?
They gaily squander time?


Light Sketch

Grey pencil strokes
upon the world. And dawn
comes timidly.


Uprising

Ashes getting restive.
Nothing that a taste of flame
won’t tame.


Fearsome Me

Angry, swearing,
stamping upward … !
Each stair trembles.


Old Violin

Dust-filled attic…
Silence reig – Plaaanng!
Too-tautly-strung.


Bedtime Challenge

Turn off the light.
Face, fool, the secret
terrors of the night.


Spirit Moon

Mist-covered moor.
November Moon’s a
pale masked pearl.


Indifference

I spoke into the fire
of my plight. Damn flames
laughed heartily.


Herald

Quiet dawn.
Stars swept away. Then …
throbs on the horizon.


Old Garden

There, against mellow
lichened red of brick … Rich
orchard burdens ripen.


Surprise

The chisel chips. My
name’s being writ! Okay … I’ll
lie here for a bit.


Interruption

Grandfather Clock swung
tick and tock. ’Twas Time stopped
still the pendulum.


Lieutenancy

The curate comes,
subauditum – the clergy’s
duteous subaltern.


Display

Coins on
a collector’s velvet blue.
So lie the stars tonight.


Incoming

An imploration,
sky. Let me just
get home in time!


Wasted

Yes, there was the thing
called Youth. Summers
were much longer, then.


The Shortest Distance

I smiled. She smiled.
It was exactly
as good Victor said.


Interval

November’s emptiness …
The playground
when the bell has gone.


Entering the Glade

Sun strikes.
Russet shall be topaz,
Green? Why, emerald!


Rising

Near ruling Moon,
Venus, kindling silver,
wakens.


Encroachment

Writhings, small,
in glowing caves, till –
solid logs, ablaze.


Development

Happy old houses …
staring with regret
on change.


Sunday

Bells summon all.
Rooks flap and caw, all unaware
of Sunday.


All in Black

Jackdaw processions
up chapel hill? Well, I dunno,
sez Mr. Crow.


Roofscape

Streets lie shrouded.
Moonlight’s searching
roofs and chimneys.


New Llanelli

The good old town
still speaks to me … though not
to my heart anymore.


Timidity

Roomful of anger,
quarrels and shouts. Clock,
alarmed, ticks quietly.


Something to Say

Cold distance. Chill glarings
fill the room. How rude,
that deafening tick and tock!


Neighborhood Moon

Take care, you million
glitterers! The reaper’s
sickle’s poised!


Clock

The fateful finger points
and says ‘Remember!’.
Us? We giggle on.


Faint

He calls
to his dogs. The hunter who
has passed beyond the brow.


Pick and Catch

Leave flowers and butterflies
alone.
The world’s too fair. You hear?


The Compleat Astrophysicist

Once, they say, was
a great big bang. But
nobody there to tell …


Time Out

Back in The Big Bang
seconds were sent sprawling.
Clocks soon captured them.


Escapade

Firelight leaps to
ceiling’s corners. Escape
the room … ? No, no.


Seventeen Years

My brave old dog
gazed up at me … Oh! I could see
his spirit gone!


Restless

I couldn’t sleep.
The night passed by. It took
about a year.


Earthbound

Icarus, hurtling
past his dad:
‘Shut up about the Sun!’


Fireside Quiet

Firelight and silence.
A murmur, an answer.
The falling of an ember.


Play

Children clamber
in a tree. Two bump heads –
laugh helplessly.


The Defence

Draught’s brisk!
Candle-flames! Aux Armes! Stand fast
upon your wicks!


Winter’s Eve

A glow and crackling logs
within. Without
all’s chill and dumb with snow.


The Bright Side

Smile when you pay
the ferryman. He who looks like
Nosferatu.


Cares

Wind dies – then
rises; slaps me in the face.
Like hope.


Waiting

Night’s almost done.
Above, the scattered stars pale,
expectant of the sun.


Thingness

All’s a kindled fire
in every state. So stir the coals
with care.


Young Moon

Lazy Miss,
on her back, napping in
her hammock …


Desiderata

Laugh, yes, and be merry.
Be kind; show love.
Time is an outstretched hand.


Assault

Willow heaves her load
against the wind.
She’ll not give in.


The Poker’s Touch

The Master Log’s upon
the embers. The poker’s touch.
A merry blaze.


It’s Hot

Damn hot! Sleeping cats’ll
fall off windowsills. Great toads’ll
die of thirst.


Night Watch

Night waters. So, you stars?
Look down upon yourselves!
So many millions deep!


Tiddler

Ten million scattered stars
shine. Damn! My puddle’s
caught just one!


Imagination?

Dark street.
My footsteps. They sound like…
footsteps following.


Damascened

Spied, through the crowd,
a shapely, dazzling ecstasy!
Floored like Saul – that’s me.


Diadem

Gorse tops
the mound. A sleeping warrior’s crown
of gold.


What they Boast About in Valhalla

‘And last I clove the mantichore
his head. He rained hot gore.
And thus I burned and bled’.


Lull

When table-talk stops short –
that weird moment’s silence!
All swap smiles.


Journey

The lame child
limps and lingers. The lane
runs on.


Diminishing

Talk at twelve; logs spit.
Murmurs at three; red segments.
Four o’clock – the parting.


Sol Invictus

Scorching in the
veg patch. Heat waves skip along
the cabbages.


The Armada

Washing’s at hoist.
Ballooning blouses!
Knickers ahoy!


Ode to the Sun

Yield, glorious orb of gold,
go down … Don’t take
too long kow-towing, eh?


Koshtra Belorn

Her matchless contours …
created solely to compel
men’s adulation.


Glee

A silly little thing.
But our eyes met – and we laughed,
and laughed again!


Thoughts

There the mountains, there
the sea; the great sky … the
dot of life that’s me.


Linings

Soft stuff lines
li’l warblers nest: As it does
the big bad hawk’s.


Alchemy

A world once beautiful …
Transmuted thus
by wars and lust!


The Silence from Horeb

We know you like
to hide your face, but – God!
To look away!


Moody

Grate’s deep in ashes.
Embers, few. Blow on them.
They’ll glow.


Lemme Alone!

A hermit’s life for me,
I swore: Uh-oh. Not so, thought
he girl next door.


Master Rat

Young rat’s small, yet.
But, bold? Cares not a jot
for etiquette!


Small Suns

A sunless alley’s
end. There, though,
dandelions glow.


Vacant

A small house, frail,
unoccupied.
The snail long gone


Hesperides

The veil slips:
Lifts life’s colours from all
earthly things.


Stealth Merchant

Thrush, on the wall,
sings joyously. Below glides Tom,
with evil eye.


Alone

Nightfall – time
of mockeries. That tree? Those rocks?
Grim fantasies!


Ongoing

Rain beats a rhythm
to the old clock’s tick. Dark blood
courses through my veins.


Play, Weigh

As years go by
come imps
to play upon the mind.


Blackberry Picking

Lazing in the sun
high and out of reach
the best ones hung.


Those Summers

Young, standstill summers
those, my love! But the days
were running away.


Naked Moon

Keen wind unwinds
her cloud-wraps, and, undressed,
the goddess smiles.


Youth

Live, lads and lasses – now!
Heed not
the hungry ticking of the clock.


Home

The place wells up within me,
now. Like a lost love’s
whispering still.




F I N I S