An ounce of home
An old silent pond…
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.
– Bashō, Zen Master
All day long
Are fallin’ on my skin,
All I have for a shed
only a leaf over my head
Now I’m out of the pond
and had nowhere to go.
an ounce of home
a bocal, in your room,
It’s enough for me a home,
and I’ll tell you the weather,
a fortune taler
Cicadas, frog ponds…
Riffing on haiku masters! It’s okay with me.
Please… Gimme Shelter
This is a haiku, below…
Could you write a better one –you think?
click on the link
Go ahead and try.
I still remember, the feel of raindrops on my skin
The dripping of droplets, the splashing of water on the streets.
Building paper boats, racing them in the water flow
Hustling on the muddy streets, jumping in the puddles.
Now I sit in my porch, witness the beauty
Water surging down the leaves, the waving of the trees.
I wish dancing in the rain, soaking the joy
Carefree of the world, apathy of the judgement.
But I am sluggish and I renounce
I stifle my acts, I strangle my passions.
Always on the quiver, forsake my longings
Because I am no more myself but a version of a person others want me to be.