IRiz
IRiz
Feb 28, 2018
This poem is part of the workshop:

Sunku: beyond rhyme and rhythm, search for new structures in short form

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To Basho

Poem Body

To Basho

It is not the end of the day.
But it is almost.
Snow is matte.
Its white lilac doesn't spark
but quietly glows.

The trees radiate cold.
Fallen leaves
suspended in frozen shoals
form illusion of flying maps,
mosaic display
of ancient nations and worlds.

The sun is long gone,
but the sky
still keeps the last beams
fast to the chest.

I am reading aloud the lines
on my palms.
How long do I live, how far shall I go
following traces of birds?

Thousands of miles
through the heart
gone in one moment,
I am back
on a snowy
trail home.

About This Poem

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Washington DC, USA

Favorite Poets: Matsuo Bashō, Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski, TS Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Joseph Brodsky, Boris Pasternak, DH Lawrence, Robert Frost

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

I see you didn't label it Sunku. I like the way that it leads a reader through the trip leaving one to wonder where they are going. ~ Geezer.
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