"haruki" poems
'you've felt it, haven't you? those feelings that seem to get so big in your chest, like something is so beautiful it aches.' - Heather Anastasiu
'you have a place in my heart no one else ever could have.' - F. Scott Fitzgerald
'i knew he didn't love me, but i adored him anyway.' - Patti Smith
'i like people with depth, i like people with emotion, i like people with a strong mind, an interesting mind, a twisted mind, and also people that can make me smile.' - Abbey Lee Kershaw
'most days i wish i never met you because then i could sleep at night and i wouldn't have to walk around with the knowledge there was someone like you out there.' - Good Will Hunting
'i have a million things to talk to you about. all i want in this world is you. i want to see you and talk. i want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.' -Haruki Murakami
'i love you in that crazy, stupid, i want to rip your throat out and kiss you at the same time love.
that love where it's so overwhelming i hate you for making me feel so vulnerable.
that love that takes over your mind and i end up thinking about you so much i drive myself into complete and utter insanity.
that love which where i put my heart on my sleeve, took everything you could throw at me and still loved you with the little pieces you left.
the love that i'll tell my kids about, the 'what if' kind of love, the one i'll never forget.
the love of my life.
that's the way i love you.' - Chippylou
'i am holding your name
underneath my tongue
in case you ask me
to make my favorite
sound.' - Stolenwine
'i need to rip your
name off my tongue;
it no longer taste
sweet. - a.w.k.jones
'i keep thinking you already know. i keep thinking i've sent you letters that were only ever written in my mind.' - Iain Thomas
'i guess what scares me the most is knowing that at any moment, you could rip my heart out of my chest, tear it into pieces, throw it on the ground and stomp all over it. and that i'd just pick it up and hand it back to you.'
'i romanticized you
to the point where
the knives you pressed
into my skin
began to look
like cupid's arrows.'
'i'll never be busy enough to not miss you.' - m.k
'i never really liked
my name
much
until i found out
what it tastes like
when you sigh it
into my
mouth'.
'i have tried to let you go and i cannot. i cannot stop thinking of you. i cannot stop dreaming about you.' - Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus
'your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.' - Hafiz, Persian poet, "Your Mother and My Mother"
'she hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.' - Julia Quinn
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 3:47 AM UTC
There are moments when I forget myself
Almost completely.
When soul becomes shadow I midwife the space between
Keeping distance.
Haruki Murakami thinks that the line between knowing the truth and walking in a dream
Is so very thin,
A literal silver lining, leaving marks on the body
Splitting open the skin.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
deep down in this well
sitting here with Haruki
a deep well for thought
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
discovered on my search today
how murakami and itoi
wrote short stories together
in nineteeneightysomething
and daydreamed of the corners
in tokyo i might never see
again all while amazed and longing
for someplace nifty to myself
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 8:09 PM UTC
she was reading haruki murakami
and licking her lips of muffin crum
bs - - i, placated via cellphone, calle
d to leave a message for a friend ab
out Oscar Wilde's De Profundis a
s i think i forgot it on his couch spea
k-easy speak-fast distract myself wit
h cigarette headrush rants and slow-
mo's she moves close gazing as i c
uriously whisper back with connect
ed pupil and she comes so so close - - g
arbage can next to me close - - she keep
s peeking at me, pulls out norwegian w
ood scans road i awkwardly pull out an
thology of chinese poems from backpa
ck to possibly impress! she keeps peek
ing peeking peeking i almost start conve
rsation but heart-beats race-track grand
prix miss my bus and i know it almost re
trieve cigarette from pocket (ghoulish goo
dy) second-guess she may think it unattra
ctive? no shiney faced race horse (*do u ev
en lift, bro - - no dude i don't, i literally do
n't lift*) cement truck clamours past and i n
ot really paying attention to the ******* c
hinese poems anyway begin to read the way
the sun glances off the spinning barrel like c
hinese poetry - - glancing always to newspea
k my way into awkwardity so ******* he
adrush** she walks away, turns on heel to loo
k me in darting eyeballs (*are u coming? i sup
pose so, jesus*) i clamour onto my feet and foll
ow her pretend to be checking bus-times ya fu
ckin goof 15X arrives and she departs without
a smoke-signal we were close we were close we
were close *and i missed my bus waiting for my
self to brave-and-snake* so i walk away pretend-
careless and finally retrieve cigarette from pocket
read the smoke like chinese poetry (ghoulish goody)
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
earlier today
i was alone up
on skyline reading
a book by haruki
murakami for
four hours and
the rain came and
went twice with
a rainbow that
would move paces
out against the town
and people moved up and
down the mountain
pausing for a smoke
and leaving with
their windows rolled
up, I cried a couple
times without knowing
why.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
If things ever got so
bad that our money became
virtually worthless, it might be
possible to use poetry as a
medium of exchange.
The better the poem, the
greater the value.
A Pablo Neruda or David Ignatow
would be worth something like fifty dollars,
whereas a Rod McKuen might buy you a
candy bar. Maybe.
Richard Brautigans would buy plenty, as well,
but make you question why you were
buying it at all.
A Bukowski poem
would be worth
thousands, but
looked upon as
foreign currency.
Of course, with the current rate of
inflation, one would need more and more Nerudas
and Ignatows just to get by, and eventually a loaf
of bread might cost as much as a short story.
To buy a car, one would need to come up with
two or three novels...good novels...a couple of
Haruki Murakamis.
It would take a wallet full of
Raymond Carver stories just to buy a
motorcycle.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 6:35 PM UTC
I will be dead
and become posthumously insane
and I will remember Suzanne Vega
every time I hear your name
I will take that look
of Vivienne Westwood's
and I will sing and sing and sing
and sink and sink and sink
and I will not think
of the appropriate things
Because I will be dead
and become posthumously insane
Even though long scarf does not suit this neck
and gas oven does not fit this head
and .38 caliber revolver is not
something a 17 year old girl would own
there is no need to worry
because now I know what loves me
It is not the explosion, not the oxygen
Not the carbondioxide, not the cyanide
It is the water, any kind of water
the tears, the saliva, the seawater
And I learnt from Haruki Murakami
that even a plastic bag would do
Mimicking the deepest sea
The sensation is true, is true ----
I remember; you liked a lot the word drown
You liked a lot the word drown
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Triscuits and hummus
with olives and wine
Miles and Coltrane
in four four time
salmon and salad
rosemary and thyme
Rohmer and Renoir
at Hollywood and Vine
Haruki Murakami
and Mark Twain
these are some of the
favorite things of mine
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
*Forgive me for breaking the rules,
Abusing of my right to write poetry,
Instead,I will write something else,
Using it for my own personal gain,
And speaking about things on my mind.
This little corner of internet has a lot to display,
Strange thing how its multiplying by each day.
I joined here just to read as a passionated reader,
Now I am writing too as a professional writer.
This place it feels like a virtual home,
Some of you share their deepest hopes,
Such as “I loved her within my every bone”
Or “She is so ******* rude I’d rather be alone”
I am not trying to rationalize what you say,
Because everyone has a different share.
Advocating your personal case,
As defendat you have this right to defend,
Then you’re switching roles,
As an impartial judge you will condone,
From your gift you won’t be disowned of.
Expressing in poems what you feel,
It takes much courage to be so real,
In a World that is trying to reduce us,
To an absolute 0 silence,
When in fact we all should be shyness.
"Listen up - there's no war that will end all wars."
That’s what Haruki Murakami said,
An inspired writer,one of the kinds,
Yeah! I read his books sometimes.
I think airplanes should rather drop the candy sweetness,
The only thing I am really wishing to be witness.
In case if you're wonder,
No, none of this was suppose to rhyme
But now I don't think is such a terible crime.
Everyone is seeking for something,
Truth,Love,Happiness,and Comfort.
All above,for me are now postponed,
Because I am on a quest for the unknown.
More interested in stars from above,
Than people who act like hoes.
**** this!
I am not gonna make this essay about me,
The bottom line is this;
Read like nobody is watching,
Write like everyone is reading.
Appreciate yourself at first,
No matter how selfish it may sound,
Then love yourself just the way you are,
Cause’ beautiful minds are so rare.
Sometimes there's so much to read,
That manny of us get lost into abyss.
Others are lucky to be found,
Their art is now so profound.
Dear Readers and Writers,
Thank you for sharing it,
Thank you for reading it.*
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC