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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: jonny graham

Title: Letter from Suzuki.

How are the things in England?
My want to return is strongly heartfelt every day.
Thanks to you for the deepest expressions of sympathy
concerning grandmothers lately death.
Some finality at last achieved
with the feeling of the absorption bones by fire.
Again feeling the blessing of these heavily sad rituals.
Pray for the soul with slow goodbyes.
Watching the activity in the Miyashita San all day.
Now working day and night,
people returning from the holiday competitions.
Some with photo excitements.
Some with raw wantings.
New people come from afar,
quietly of foot, quickly of deed,
praying to surmount the struggle,
creating a path to the weekend again.
Caring for the U.S. mails by office strategy,
accepting many kinds of businesses.
Also, trying to be unreasonable not to catch cold.
This week many inputs viewed,
different from us but usefully knowledgeable also.
Today I must truly ponder.

Went to the palace to watch the rape.
Walking to a little point, early rape with friends.
Things like rape blooming in early good weather.
Forty minutes on a steep mountain path,
breathing stertorously along the way.
I thought of you when achieving the summit,
and happily wanted to jump.
This all accomplished surrounded by the rape.
I felt the words of Matsuo Basho.

Yet another path, where lowing happens,
five minutes from home, recently walked.
I saw the very right cow-chan.
Could not believe our eyes - such big tits.
Overdue for machine intervention.
We were given to take photos,
these cows are close to twenty heads.
Still as veal, amazed by the cute effect of eyes.
Much cow-chan exists in this time.

I have the pain of many questions
from dull people seeking responding answers.
All of them seek hope,
like the stores of Tokyo collapsing
all those years ago, round the people.
Made into gypsy-pirates, instantly.
The human confetti of the latest tsunami
drifting lost in the lotus breeze.

Today has been changing.
I have returned home alone
with only the weight of varied experience.
I have much to write this night.
Not neglecting the value
of the balanced nutrition dinner,
most important.
Thoughts of green curry sauce
and fried pork with egg rice.
I have a cold beer in my frigo,
this habit you taught me
and I understand it's need.

From my window,
the light of day is dying.
The moon will call for tomorrow.
Japan is dry this winter,
shrivelled like old wasabi root.
People wonder if the change will come,
as the curdling of the cream.
This thinking is poor usage of time,
long though it is and was.

It is late now.
My lamp burns low.
I have finished all writing,
with energy and zeal of learning.
I treasure your reflections.
Midnight dinner alone,
mind healed by delicious rice.
I ponder the coming days
as the jealousy of sleep
steals my secrets,
in solitude.
I drift like falling blossom,
in the no-light.
Waiting for tomorrow,
in this land of rising sun.

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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