WHEN VENUS IS ENOUGH
suhni bell
hortensia anderson
midnight my fingertips tangled in venus amazons
in the amazon the pleasure of heat
sweet almond dripping into her mirage falling
into a dream between silk sheets
your thighs spread slowly across moonlight
butterfly wings enfold me in powdery darkness
entwined shadows the rhythm of cicada we
undulate to the endless waves
glistening lips pressed against your name
wordless translation between our tongues
here & there a whisper of amber the scent
of you now imprinted forever
BANDANA UITATA – FORGOTTEN BANDANNA
BRIEF FOREWORD
We would like to present a traditional summer kasen renga written in
Romanian. We don’t claim it to be the first, because we lack information on
the matter. It’s safe to say, however, that such experiments are rare,
although Romania is, for instance, a haiku-loving country, with hundreds of
established haijin. For the benefit of the worldwide Lynx readership we present the
English translation alongside each ku. However, we are aware that does not solve all cross-cultural issues such a
daring step (the publishing of a Romanian poem in an English-speaking medium)
involves. We therefore explain all geographical and cultural references through
footnotes. Also, we use footnotes to explain the discrepancies which often
appear between Romanian and Japanese kigo. Technically, we strived, in the Romanian version, to keep the 5—7—5
pattern (which we mostly managed to do) but in the translation we tried to be
just as scrupulous about the meanings….There was one license which we allowed yourselves, as utter beginners, and it
regards the "non-repetition rules" of renga. We did repeat some nouns,
but only when the verse’s focus did not fall on them (cf. our use of "window"). As for the
"insects-only-once" rule, we adapted it and used insects: once as a
kigo, once as a non-seasonal reference, and twice figuratively (i.e. when not
the actual insect was meant). This was not in an attempt to "reform" renga, but rather to
avoid unwarranted stress and to discover the convivial sweetness of this poetic
and human experiment. Enjoy reading our kasen, then, as we enjoyed writing it!
BANDANA UITATA – FORGOTTEN BANDANNA
Written in Romanian with added English translation
Cristian Mocanu (Deva, Romania/Romania)
Dana-Maria Onica (Petrosani, Romania/Romania)
Daniela Bullas (Chichester, Marea Britanie/UK)
primele caise—
o bandana uitata
pe malul garlei
the first apricots—
a forgotten bandanna
down by the stream
departe, un curcubeu
unind un deal cu altul
far away, a rainbow
from one hill to another
plapuma neagra
peste satul adormit
se lasa noaptea
a black counterpane
over the sleeping village
the night is falling
sar din somn in mansarda:
focuri de artificii!
I wake up in the penthouse:
Fireworks display!
ploaia alunga
luna de la fereastra
ai toti greierii
rain chases away
the moon from my window
and all the crickets
‘la revedere’si tie
pasare calatoare —
goodbye to you, too
migrating bird/
invesmantate
in ceata diminetii—
ramuri se intind
wrapped up
in the morning fog—
branches stretching out
cand a si trecut un an?
în urma ta, doar bezna…
how did this year fly by?
after you, just the darkness…
spartura in nori —
mereu se-mbujoreaza
cand iti vorbeste
a break in the clouds—
his cheeks always grow red
as he speaks to you
ficiorul de la munte…
de la targul de fete
the mountain laddie
at the Girl Market
licitnd pe ebay—
o cutie de Ice Tea
nedesfăcuta
bidding on ebay—
a tin of Ice Tea
still not opened
prin fereastra deschisa
sunete de titera
through the open window
the sounds of a zither
doi lupi haulind—
un cerb carpatin
sub luna de iarna:
two wolves howling—
a Carpathian stag
beneath the winter moon/
a-ngheţat şi mangalul
în sălaşul părăsit
even the charcoal’s frozen
in the derelict shelter
seara tarziu —
cu pisica in brate
si gandul aiurea
late at night—
with the cat in my arms
and my thoughts elsewhere
doar purecii bantuie
televizorul aprins
just the "fleas" are plaguing
the TV set still on
imi intorc ochii
de la raza de soare:
floarea-pastelui!
I turn away my eyes
from the sunbeam:
the pasque flower!
forfota de carabusi
in lumina lanternei
cockchaffers crowding
in the flashlight spot
cate un zambet
spre ciresul de la geam-
concurs scolar
the odd furtive smile
to the outside cherry-tree:
school contest
semn, pe cartea-mi deschisa
o pana dusa de vant
book marking my page
a feather blown by the wind
pe lacul Siutghiol
regata-i amanata:
se joaca table
on Siutghiol Lake
the regatta is postponed:
people play backgammon
un batran zdrentaros
cautand in gunoi
a ragged old man
searching through the garbage
în vale, fata
culcata-n iarba-nalta
ceru-l priveşte
down in the valley, the girl
laying in the tall grass
is watching the sky
in preajma manastirii
lumanari si gratare
near the monastery
candles and barbecues
drumetie—
muscand din acelasi mar
iti simt aroma
out hiking—
biting from the same apple
I can feel your fragrance
o dragoste nebuna
ca dintre soare si zi
madly in love
like the sun and the day
email de la ea—
orice rand, o sageata
muiata-n miere
an email from her—
every line is an arrow
dipped in honey /CM
cu ochii-nlacrimati
printre fotografii vechi
with the eyes full of tears
surrounded by old photos
plina de sine
in luna a noua, doar
luna gravidă
so full of herself
in the ninth month, only
the moon is pregnant
băiatul cu umerase
admirand gutuile
the coat-hanger boy
admiring the quinces
cam aglomerat
restaurantul japonez:
primii taiţei!
rather crowded
the Japanese restaurant:
first buckwheat noodles!
"Spargatorul de nuci"
mi-a dat dureri de cap…
"The Nut Cracker"
gave me some headaches…
în depărtare,
transformata-n licurici
o stea cazatoare
far away
it turned into a firefly
a shooting star
pasi grabiti prin balarii,
aducand…ce fel de vesti?
swift steps through the weeds
bearing…what kind of news?
in palma ta
pe linia norocului
un ghiocel
in the palm of your hand
right on the fortune line
a snowdrop
un martisor agăţat
de sufletul—pereche
a „Martisor" pinned
on the twin soul
TRIPARSHVA RENGA:
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY HEAD?
Norman Darlington (Ireland): 3, 9, 12, 14, 22
Kala Ramesh (India): 4, 5, 8, 13, 17, 21
Moira Richards (South Africa): 2, 7, 11, 16, 20
Brian Zimmer (Canada): 1, 6, 10, 15, 18
Ranzan (18th century Japanese master): trans. Darlington 19
1
arms outstretched
scarecrow presents his stubble
to the moon
2
eagle owl's soft whooo
atop the old pine
3
grandad and me
chatting about autumn
then and now
4
kneading dough
she pauses to tie her hair
5
on the roses
on the calendar
dew in this dry heat
6
six months and not one regret
about moving
7
I wonder that
little pluto orbits
still his ellipse
8
a hilltop silhouette
in yoga asan
9
pints all round
for the lads who've just
come in off the site
10
the mirror asks
whatcha do with my head?
11
my baggie is all packed:
thermal undies
moonglo condoms
12
his hot tears melt
the freshly fallen snow
13
down an empty stairwell
the last echo
of your footsteps
14
from east to west a riot
of persimmons
15
squirrel fur thickens
these longer nights
in leafy nests
16
the election oiled
his slide inside Iraq
17
oarsmen's guttural cries
urge the snake boats
swiftly past
18
no hymn, no clergy
the Quaker meeting is gathered
19
like a travel journal
with every step
something new unfolds
20
she strews her patch
with a mix of veggie seeds
21
gentle drizzle
moistening my cheek
parijat blossom
22
the twitch of frogspawn
in a far-off mountain pool
This poem is dedicated to Kala Ramesh's father, Dr. N. Krishnaswamy (86
years), a practicing doctor and allergy specialist at Chennai, and to her
mother, Mrs. Kalyani Krishnaswamy (75 years), an inspiring Tamil poet, and to
their love of parijat blossoms and respect for Mother Nature.
AFTER FIREWORKS
Carol Purington
Larry Kimmel
After fireworks
and patriotic music
the strong smell of smoke
to live now aware that fear
can quickly cloud a blue sky
While I mow the lawn
my neighbor barbecues -
suburbanites
assured of our clover
and honeybee routines
A well-laid pattern
of deer tracks in the garden
no corn this summer
but now and then a glimpse
of a light-footed neighbor
Stitched together
by the clack of spiked heels,
the surf of traffic
and the shrieks of children playing
in the park
First day at the beach
in and out of the sharp-green water
too cold
to build anything
but a tipsy castle of dreams
Dropping the broom
I outdistance the angry wasps
with ease -
a memory, only a memory,
yet this sudden sting to the brain*
*Dropping the broom ..." was published in Gusts no. 4.
Fall/Winter 2006
A BLOSSOM RETURNING TO ITS BRANCH
Betty Kaplan
Max Verhart
Moritake (with excuses for using his stanza without consulting him)
lingering day —
a garbage can lid
becomes first base
for the occasion dad changes
himself into a gentleman
outdoor cafe —
the sunset turns
the tables orange
was that a blossom
returning to it's branch?
ah! a butterfly moritake (1472-1549)
slowly a tree grows
on the canvas
summer in the city
using the Wall Street Journal
as a fan
16-19 November 2006
GNATS
Patricia Prime
Catherine Mair
mosaic wall plaques - the sun's smile
rosemary - the bees remember
"I'm a believer" from the fire officer's 4-wheel
drive
"prickles no more" - the cheetah machine
on the lawn an outcrop of miniature pansies
looking at the sky disc through a cloud of gnats
in front of the open garage a gardening glove
past No. 51 - a cherry blossom petal drifts
from the aerial, the bird's warble
accomplished - the changeover of annuals
CYBERCAFE
Zane Parks
Lorin Ford
CW Hawes
cybercafe
my cursor winks
at a pretty blonde
a SHELL station
with the S unlit
crossing the saltflat
the motorcycle sputters
to a stop
SPIDER WEBS
Alexis Rotella
Carlos Colón
Spider webs
in the stairwell —
hypnotherapy.
Chinese fortunes —
care to trade?
MSG —
I feel like Alice
in Wonderland.
Queen of Hearts
under your King.
Friend's three closets —
one for each
dress size.
Old Frogponds —
riding the ripples.
Mardi Gras route
the street lined
with Port-O-Lets.
Dresses from the 30's —
fabrics my mother knew.
ACT
circles filled
with a crayon.
Stars for a block —
sidewalk chalk.
Caution-tape yellow
the color of
her new blouse.
A wind-up bunny
on the cardiologist's desk.
Booster shot
a lollipop rises from
the treasure chest.
Cutting our lawn,
a masked man.
View from
the balcony
Saturday serial.
Wisteria fragrance —
3 a.m. and still no sleep.
First day of summer
weeping willow next
to the gas station.
Champagne white —
the pimp's Cadillac.
Ditch digger —
from his mouth
tropical bird whistles.
Another month
of silence.
A botched
tracheotomy —
Mercury retrograde.
Neighborhood streets
furniture clogs an artery.
Home from the store,
another tomato
has turned red.
Locked doors
dead son in the child seat.
A bride
on her side
in the coffin.
Long-awaited lilies
already gone.
On dialysis again —
Uncle with
his Purple Heart.
Spoon stuck
in frozen butter.
Giving giving giving
so everyone
will like her.
Hand over hand over
hand.
Free dance lesson
the fear
in my feet.
Climbing climbing
morning-glories of autumn.
Empty house
one eightieth
of a chandelier.
City crowd —
get me out of here.
Russian dinner
a mile
from Arkansas.
The pickle lady
all wrinkles.
December 22, 2005 - December 31, 2006
SILENT EXPLOSIONS
Joan Payne Kincaid
Sundiata Acoli
explosions of life
animals and plants re-born
in bird choruses
season cycles back anew
coming forth in restlessness a
gardens bloom
sunflowers stretch
too fast to believe
slowly noticed yet intense
swallows harken thoughts of it
under a shady tree
night heron listens
in rising light
she sees shining stars
and sings a song of sighs
the sea is calling
stronger than a lover's charm
deeper wading waits
shining surfboards and wetsuits
magic tunnels spin
candlelight and cake
casting shadows to and fro
fireflies dart about
listening to cricket songs
sleigh-bell crescendo
iron dialogues
discourse bars in flesh and blood
white deer fades to blue
coolness of dawn
reading truth in
clouds
silver disk above
tolls the years gone by encaged
summers hot and long
lives circle a vigil
Sunday bells will gong
vistas of the soul
peer into the pains of yore
heat rides in the wind
powerful visions appear
swirling on silent dew
scent of daffodils
waft into the room upstairs
vernal spells return
down on the lawn
petals of violets vibrated purple
nodding by the temple
a violent need of sleep
sipping dandelion wine
couples glide to trumpet's bleat
begging joiners to the
floor
in his gilded coupe
floating along the concourse
listening to iPod music
pomp disturbs the starving hordes
moving to a birthday beat
arriving at Mardi Gras
eat drink and be merry
order more of everything
ice reigns all around the globe
work-call breaks the interlude
the doors slide back
on a single signal
hear a sudden lute and cello concert
love is key to the new world
sharing hurt and joy alike
kissing her wish- ring
she leaves the yellow lounge
dressed in an olive velvet gown
racist war haunts New Orleans
killing color and the poor
in the round pale light
near a scenic lake
listen to high pitch katydids
Blackwater brings Halloween
shooting survivors on sight
a slip of the
mask exposes disaster plans
fall arrives early
softly sliding psychedelically
posed in dark re-entry
chickens scratch in the mud
earthworms laze above the ground
in receding gales
global warming scorcher
dull haze surrounds the sails
morning glories sprout
nature's eternal cycle
begins once again
creatures come and go
turning returning ornaments
Date started: 5.24.01- Date finished: 10.8.06
POST GONDWANA: A CHAIN REACTION
Moira Richards (South Africa)
Barbara A Taylor (Australia)
cast to the seas
my three short lines
in a cape wine bottle
two tropes per day
keeps kangaroos at bay
ostrich feathers
for every occasion
tickled pink
before each dawn
kookaburra laughs
her mate says g'day
tourist snapshots
lioness gives a huge yawn
a chain reaction
too hot, dry continents
linking here to there
.
FACING THE TRUTH
Barbara A Taylor (Australia)
Moira Richards (South Africa)
at self-reflections
her mother smiles
in the mirror
iris plants irises
admires the beauty each spring
good looks gone
no botox baby here
it's all natural
the swell of ripe hips
when rose's bloom is lost
vitamin c
sweats on the treadmill
catching up on time
does she love
pulling daisy petals
does she love herself not
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Barbara A Taylor (Australia)
Shayla Mollohan (USA)
Moira Richards (South Africa)
a bowl of rice
brightens brown eyes
three women bend
rinse grape peels from their feet
beetroot and garlic
to keep the AIDS at bay
our daily bread
scraping off the mold
crab apple raid
from bitter fenced-up trees
shades of envy
her pesto recipes
old sweet tubers
building kitchen castles
church pantry hams
lend moms Christmas hope
that smile
chocolate on our tongues
A RIPPLE OF SHADOWS
Frank Williams
Andrew Shimield
early autumn…
a ripple of shadows
stirs the net curtain
a leaf catches
in the chain-link fence
under a huge moon
newly released pheasants
rush for cover
nebulae still hurtling on
as the universe expands
eerily still,
as we stand on the rim
of a dead volcano
will she still kiss me
with that zit on my nose
after the snip
being told just
how brave he is
perfect teeth on the MP
seeking re-election
ghosts hover over
the row of neat graves
speckled with snow
the dachshund sporting
a Burberry coat
practicing guitar
he dreams of opening
at the Albert Hall
found in a boot sale
dad’s lost watch chain
every Sunday morning,
who’s getting up
to make the tea
last night in a dream
she spoke to Ernest
silhouetted
against the moon
moth at the window
from the quiet suburb
a blood-curdling howl!
hot milk
slowly bubbles
in the saucepan
waiting to be paid
the chimney sweep
fresh blossoms
cover the new van
in a layer of pink
a furled umbrella drips
on the hallway floor
Composed via email - 19 September, 2006, to 29 October,
2006
PAST THE BROKEN GATE
Frank Williams
Doreen King
spring twilight…
four wagtails seem to float
on the flat wet roof
tipped up stone pool
is losing stars
in the ornate church
an array of statues
surround the flock
door of my small room
open to summer solstice
through your telescope
each crater visible
on the gibbous moon
watching giraffe at the zoo
our first kiss
buying lingerie
for his partner
a gauche fifty year old
for the garden party
hair as red as leaves!
at the gallery
such pride when viewing
her exhibits
out-of-town walk
all the shapes of trees
unheeded,
comments about the report
and the storm warning
all that’s left of the pier
are the foundation posts
past the broken gate
to the quiet yard
covered in ice
for Sid’s birthday
a fold-up walking stick
3 months dead
he stops the car
because of rain
their windshield mirrors
the moon in a black sky
from the outhouse
a hedgehog views
its first April
outside the hacienda
a monster prickly pear
I can laugh now
my green mac gets a shower. . .
of cherry blossom
children fish for tiddlers
in the slow-moving stream
Composed via e-mail 12 June, 2006 to 24 September, 2006.
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