#plum
Here goes nothing
said a voice in the trembling cold
I held myself in the center of the day
tying sun rays into knots around my finger
a coolness among all the smoke
turned over on itself, and like the pit
in the center of the plum
in the center of my stomach
now at the center of this earth
I feel the vastness of letting go
one life to the next
walking out the door
among loss, among ghosts
all in line, next in turn
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 5:19 PM UTC
Today I pulled a plum,
Apart with my fingers and my thumb.
I did not use a knife,
But held it open to examine life.
And when I finally ate,
It tasted all the more richer.
Fuller, and the texture
Was a virtuoso in visceral sensuality;
Vibrant and mouthful.
The enveloping heat emanating from the sun
Moved through my body like a home-run,
Sounds exploded in my eardrum,
Replacing the peace with a sweet hum.
yum **
Apr 30, 2025
Apr 30, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
Loneliness smells like plums
From grandmother's garden
Nov 5, 2024
Nov 5, 2024 at 8:29 AM UTC
These are my modern English translations of haiku about plum blossoms, plums and plum trees. In Japanese poetry the plum ("ume") is associated with the beginning of spring and good fortune; plum trees were often planted facing northeast to ward off bad luck. Plum blossoms are widely loved and appreciated by the Japanese people; they symbolize refinement, purity, nobility and the remembrance of love.
Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
― Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth…
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms bloom
petal by petal―love!
― Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
― Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch; this is believed to be Buson's death poem and he is said to have died before dawn
Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation of his jisei (death poem) by Michael R. Burch
A shy maiden:
the loveliness of the lone plum
blossoming
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Longing for plum blossoms:
bowing before the deutzia,
weeping.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Moonlit plum tree,
tarry!
Spring will return soon.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum blossom’s fragrance
warms
winter’s frigid embrace.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
White plum blossoms:
have the cranes
gone undercover?
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Suddenly, the scent of plums
on a mountain path:
sunrise!
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Warm sun unfolds
the plum blossom’s scent:
a mountain path.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum in full bloom
must not be disturbed
by the wind.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The plum's fragrance:
the past
holds such pathos.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
and I the dreaming heart
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
kimi ya cho / ware ya shoshi no / yume gokoro
The poem above is a reference to a butterfly dream of Chuang Tzu, a Taoist sage and poet who was a major influence on Basho. Soshi is the Japanese rendering of the name Chuang Tzu. I believe what Basho may have meant is something closer to this:
Are you the butterfly
while I pursue dreams
of Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Are you the butterfly
while in my dreams
I flit after Soshi?
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
It's not at all anxious to bloom,
the plum tree at my gate.
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse ****
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Intruder!―
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The white poppy
accepts the butterfly's broken wing
as a keepsake
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
shirageshi ni / hane mogu cho no / katami kana
As autumn deepens
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
aki o hete / cho mo nameru ya / kiku no tsuyu
The translation above is slated to be published by Emma Burleigh in her book "Earth Color."
A single leaf
of paulownia falling
reflects the sun.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I caught a falling cherry petal;
but opening my fist ...
nothing
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They call it a white peony
yet it contains
hints of red
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Evening shadows
grow thick
on the floating algae
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The snake slithered away
yet his eyes, having met mine,
remained
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The bamboo grove
is lit
by the yellow spring sunlight
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Chikurin ni/ Ki naru haruhi wo/ Aogikeri
On a hot summer night
dreams and reality
merge.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mizika-yo ya/ Yume mo utsutsu mo / Onazi koto
The summer butterfly
has to look sharp
to make its getaway.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Natsu no cho/ Manako surudoku/ Kakeri kishi
The autumn sky
is severed
by the big chinquapin tree.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Akizora wo/ Futatsu ni tateri/ Shii-taiju
“Cawa-cawa!”
The winter crow
elocutes coarsely.
—Takahama Kyoshi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Kawa kawa to/ Ookiku yuruku/ Samu-garasu
You rise with the sun,
mysteriously warm,
also scattering sunbeams.
—Michael R. Burch
As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch
I wrote this haiku-like poem above on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school massacre.—Michael R. Burch
Incomprehensible
by Michael R. Burch
“Slain” — an impossible word to comprehend.
The male lion murders cubs,
licks his lips, devours them.
Her sky-high promises:
midday moon
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The north wind’s refrain,
the receding strain
of a southbound train ...
Invitation?
—Michael R. Burch
The moon blushed
then fled behind a cloud:
her stolen kiss.
—Michael R. Burch
Elderly sunflowers:
bees trimming their beards.
—Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: haiku, translation, Japanese, Japan, Oriental, plum, plums, plum blossom, plum blossoms, plum trees, spring, good luck, good fortune, love, purity, refinement, nobility
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 5:19 AM UTC
And the sun glints through the plum trees.
My heart is pierced
in a moment of anticipation
and silence.
A sudden reflection of beauty, longing, and pain blurred my eyes.
A quick revisit
to an old memory of paradise.
Where I’ve been an enduring captive of a sorrowful rewind.
But I remained a seeker.
A seeker of the promises
of perseverance.
While I adore winter
as I see snow trinkets around.
I love and cherish
the herald of spring.
And as the pale pink plum blossoms bravely bloom
amidst the winter chill,
I will continue to seek
for fruitfulness.
Though I’m still a slave
of bitterness and grief,
I will try to celebrate my strength.
With plum blossoms as a reminder of a not-so-distant spring.
A time for hope, a moment of joy,
and a season of new beginning.
Blooming beautifully after overcoming difficulties.
Feb 19, 2023
Feb 19, 2023 at 12:14 AM UTC
Open palm of your hand,
the fruit of a ripened plum pressed cool against your skin.
Placing the young flesh against your lips, with a sweet perfume scent.
A lovely summer afternoon spent loving you.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 11:36 PM UTC
I had
Adored
The plum tree
In my backyard.
I often think
What if I were
A plum.
I could be at peace
And rot away
Knowing
I had just been a plum.
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 5:43 PM UTC
I long to taste a sugar plum off the ****** tree,
walk in the field of golden grass just to feel.
I want to feel the sugar plum tree, high at stake and bright with sweet bumble nests.
We all talk about apple trees, but why not the plum tree?
Gracefully swaying it's branches in the summers light.
I long to taste a sugar plum, laced in sweet white crystals.
The juice flows through our mouths, fresh, cold, and sweet.
Deep colors from it's roots to it's leaves, we have brown, light purple to dark purple, which we call plum, green delight how beautiful it is in my sight. I want a sugar plum, to bite into it's fruitful dismay and lay on natures green bed, so soft, so gentle. Stare into the clouds watching them gently float by, a cool breeze of sweet air swishes amongst my earthly face as i fall asleep under the sugar plum tree.
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
Get some sun,
Don’t be so glum.
Sugarplum,
Put a smile on that balm...
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
it's an *****
that we can do without
but most of us
have it still hanging about
were you to look
a bit left of the liver
you'd see this organ's
plum red sliver
if it gets torn
much blood will spill
from its sack's
gushing rill
by golly Francis
verbalizes a lot
she's always
ranting on the spot
glean and keen
rhyme with it
that is a hint
to its kind of kit
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
I am a plum—
io sono la tua prugna
and I fit in your palm,
in its tender arch
upturned, stately
and I curl in its pits
of lines that quake
with the warmth of my weight.
My flesh grazed by your teeth,
a hymn that carries
across the gleaming sea
and intertwines with the tempest
that soaked your black curls
but not your mouth—
your mouth dripping
with my plum juice.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
we'd all like to have
that nice cushy job
where toiling can be given
a mammoth fob
those who've landed
in these plum positions
will be assured of the
best working conditions
few if any missions
do get facilitated
the office is a place
of nil being slated
an extended lunch hour
management takes
whilst busy bees are
hauling the heavy stakes
company CEO's lounging
around in boardrooms
penalizing the labourers
who are pushing the brooms
wouldn't it be great
to sit constantly down
and not keep polishing
the boss's idling crown
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
It's the black and white memories,
the one's that we all try to hide,
but the more that's blocked, the more you see,
and you can't erase what's inside.
She tells her story, and it's heartbreaking,
while you say sorry you're both shaking,
you tell yourself this is real, but you're really feeling numb,
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.
She tells her fears to quiet mirrors,
and expresses her sadness and stress.
Through all the tears she prays someone hears her,
because it's gotten to madness and she's become a mess.
In the booth you're all laughing, sharing the old jokes,
but the cigarette smoke is masking your instinct to choke.
You think you're made of steel, but you know you're just ****
that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.
Every song you hear is nostalgic,
and it brings a smile to your face,
within the whispers is a hint of magic,
but the topics are lacking charm and grace.
And every soul that wanders in, is worse when they're outside,
for everyone is born of sin, but we sure all seem satisfied.
She tells you her story, and it's heartbreaking,
it all came before me and the choices I'm making.
You've lost track of how to deal, you say the issues are dumb,
and that's how you always feel when you're at Don's Plum.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
I wonder what the first thing you touched was
When you escaped the womb
Besides your mother and father
Any other family members
Doctors and other trinkets that assist
Or are given in the hospital
What was the first thing you laid your hands on with intent
Before me
A piece of a butterfly wing
Your new soft Teddy
Glow in the dark star
Newly found birth-mark
I wonder what you have seen
Before you saw me
That has made your heart, your eyes, your skeletal composition,
your tremendous amount of insides
Flutter
Go off balance
New toy that’s on the market
A train set
The cute girl in your first grade class
That you couldn’t talk to normally
So instead
You teased her
What have you heard
That harmonized with your soul
Your ghost, your physical form
Before your left ear
Caught a trickle of my sigh
Soon my voice that would follow
A gentle lullaby
Your mother used to sing to you at night
Your favorite song
I can no longer remember the name of
I just know it went
“You are my peach, you are my plum”
What have you smelt
That is your aroma therapy
Or was
Besides my conditioner
And shampoo
My old lady perfume
Was it your own soap
A pastry baking in the oven
Or was it something I find foul
Like mushrooms, maybe
A scented candle
An old Grand Piano
I wonder what you thought
When you found out you loved me
Did it bring attention to all five of your senses
Which one is your strongest
Obviously it is not your sense of taste
Otherwise you’d love me more than her saliva
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
I knew an old man who swallowed a peach,
A peach is a pepper a pepper a peach, a peach is a fruit,
My what a toot to have eaten such fruit, he swallowed the
Pepper to follow the peach but I don't
Know why he swallowed the peach,
Let's make some pie!
I knew an old man who swallowed a plum,
A plum is a cherry a cherry a plum, a plum is a fruit,
My what a toot to have eaten such fruit, he swallowed the
Cherry to follow the plum but I don't
Know why he swallowed the plum,
Let's make some pie!
He swallowed 'em whole...! Gasp...
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Plum-coloured patterns swirled under the skin of her left leg, knee and foot. For two or three moments while paying attention to the casing in which she existed, there was a kind of glimpse toward healing, and a separate simultaneous clawing toward animalistic combinations of hateful utterances.
A shiver felt its way out of her collarbone. Eyes a little more open than usual.
The eyes reflected the lining of grime that swells above a murky pond.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
Love me like a plum tree
in full bloom
bursting against a cloudless
crystal-blue sky
love me like tender mist
descending over
an endless
rugged mountain road
love me...with all the abandon
of a sudden wild rain
with all the mysteriousness
of deep midnight
forest echoes
love me like tears
glistening on cheeks
love me
in all my seasons
in all my phases
with all the wholeness
of light in the heart
with all the rights
and all the wrongs
but love me, especially
when life
tears me apart
and i am living in half
love me
with all the fullness
of a moon
a flower...
a breath...
a kiss.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
Kisses under the moonlight,
Visions of past demons
Catching me.
Clamp on my leg,
Cutting me.
Dark winged faeries
Dance on my eyelids
As I sleep.
Sleep with my
Real eyes open.
Metaphorical eyes sewn shut
With burning thread.
Tip toe.
Into the window,
Move the way the ocean does.
Sugar kisses
And plum colored sheets.
Faeries dash, horrific scenes to them...
"Don't touch like that!"
Feel, save.
Season the scarred plains with
Sweat.
Night time kissed interrupted
By dawn
And fire.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC