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LARRY'S SIJO

Individual Sijo









A welcome weekend at Cedar Key,
relaxing on the dock;
pelicans wait poker-faced
for bait fish we may leave behind.

Bob away, line, while I watch the sun
going back to water.









That old tree in my yard is dying;
this may be its final year to bloom.
Does it realize its glory?
Does it treasure those last buds?

I have perhaps already known
the day that I should remember.









Bark on the oak in the backyard
has scars over my scars;
ladder steps lead nowhere now,
swing rope has furrowed the old branch.

How strong it makes us for a while,
the world we make, before it goes.









I pick up a tattered broom
to sweep leaves off autumn's patio;
When I was a boy I straddled
its handle for my horse.

Now that no one is looking,
what the hell. . . Hi-Yo, Silver!









A lone stallion stands fetlock high
in the hilltops green meadow;
He tosses his forelock when deisels blare
on the faint highway;

I lower my head because I'll soon
be going where they go.









Mama, mama, where do I find
the colors for the rainbow?
cries the small bored voice
whiling away a rainy afternoon.

In the corners of your mind, my child,
then pour them through your fingers.









It's a wood-framed hole in the water,
but he calls it a boat;
he guides its roar and rudder
through marshes to quiet pools.

wakened fish, with easy glides,
avoid his indifferent hook.









Eager to please, craving success,
she was drawn to the city;
she learned quickly from those willing
to turn over a new page:

Early to bed, and you'll meet
everyone in Washington.









Dusk shrinks the yard, then our porch,
fireflies light their way to mating;

Crickets still echo the old songs
you hummed when you were here;

Our porch has a new bulb, but the switch
that brings light brings shadow.









August air hangs heavily
over the K-Mart parking lot;

circling so far inland today,
sea gulls search careless leavings;

Blackbirds protest the invasion
From their concrete-island tree.









The royal flamingo, if it must,
eats the muck it walks on,
the sedge wren builds a dummy nest
to draw the hawk from hatchlings.

I summon them here, but my lines
are not the stuff they feed on.









Astronomers call it conjunction: Venus approaching Mars,
the illusion of closeness a matter of relative space.
Just so, orbiting man and woman seem sometimes to agree.









Solve et coagula, he declared, dissolve and combine,
confident of his alchemy in the face of daunting odds.
He knew what poets learn: choice is our first and final talent.



Waterfalls

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May you rest
at peace with night
content in blessings
snatched from day,

blessings thanked
and stored away
against the test
of coming sun.

The test of deeds
undone or done
before that final
loss of light.









Imagine
you are grass;
all you know of life
is the need to grow;

but when you grow,
each time you grow,
strangers come
to cut you down.

beyond insult
you green again,
made strong by provocation.









New theories
say our bodies
are made of waves
and particles.

They vibrate
in harmony
obeying laws
we think we see.

Beauty, we call them,
or physics,
depending on
our gods.






Other Sijo Pages

Sijo Homepage
An introduction to sijo.
Linked Sijo and Sijo Sequences
Linked sijo (with Elizabeth St Jacques) and Sijo sequences.
Highlights from the Sijoforum
A sampling of the best verses from the Sijoforum.
Sijo from the Masters
Classic Korean verses adapted into English.
Master of the Month
Each month one classical master is featured.
Dueling Sijo and links to other sites
A good place to discuss what makes sijo tick and find other sites that share this interest. Let us know of any broken links.
The Fisherman's Calendar
The most famous work from the finest master of sijo, Yun Sondo.
The Sijoforum
An email discussion group for posting anything and everything about sijo. Open to all.



My Other Pages

HOME
It all starts here
Sijo Homepage
An introduction to sijo.
Toolkit for Poets
A large collections of links to sites useful to poets.
Poetry Forms and Terminology
Descriptions and examples of a variety of poetry forms, plus a glossary of terms.
The Power Index
A simple way to judge the strength of your writing
Haiku
Larry's haiku and that of some other poets
What Is a Renga?
Explore the fascinating world of renga, complete with examples and directions for writing.
The Four-El Renga
A renga format created by yours truly. Something different!
Climbing Rhyme
A classic Burmese form with an interesting internal rhyme pattern.
Sayings of the Wise Shang-ti
Guru-ku. Haiku-like verses from a would-be guru sitting high atop McDonald's Golden Arches.
The Grossblank
A 12-line poem in blank verse, but with 12 syllables per line instead of 10, an invention of yours truly. Twelve times twelve equals 144, which equals one gross! (Sorry about that!)
Quotations for Poets and Other Writers
An almost-daily email with 4 or 5 notable quotations hopefully of interest to those wishing to create.
Florida State Poets Association
The gathering place for Florida's poets.

Sijo Sequences


Rockers
A Sijo Sequence

Grampa built this old rocker with cherry from our orchard.
Forty years on the front porch before he left to be with God.
Fifty more have come and gone; still I rock with him at sunset.

So, the chair is ninety this year, still hewn cherry thru and thru
except one rocker Grampa broke and made again with maple.
Small, I guess, for modern rears, but it holds the whole family.

We had a yard sale yesterday -- someone asked to buy it:
a dealer from Atlanta who knew good wood and craftsmanship.
Wood he knew all right, but not Grampa, nor me, nor memory.




Out of the Dead Land, Lilacs
A Sijo Sequence

"April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire.".
. . . "Spring," T. S. Eliot

If we say the star is there
when we see only ancient light,
if we say fading photos
bring forth spirits of those now gone,
then your scent on my pillow
turns each absence to illusion.


If we say the wind lives
when we see the pines bend under it,
if fragrances on the wind
keep the cherry blossoms blooming,
what should I say of the scent
of your hair on the winds of change?


All right, wind, you can stop now,
the autumns colors have fallen.
Raking works well without your help,
and snowfalls do not need you.
We'll call for you when April comes
and women dress for spring.

Updated 041122