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"shamisen" poems
*Smooth pale skin that glows Features like innocent dolls Silky ebony hair that shines Waving shimmering stars Eyebrows that perfectly frames And enticing Obsidian eyes Perfectly carved jaw and nose Velvet lips like Grandifloras Put on the Kanzashi flowers Colorful and bright Kimonos Obi hanging down to ankles Walk, dance with elegance Shamisen in her hands Showers colorful melodies Such beautiful skills Purely fetching artisans*
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
Geisha
1) see the yurei the ghost of Oyuki… hair free of the ornate pins and scattered over her shoulders she hovers in her white robe her hands loose and she’s covered in mist below her waist she has a smile, her eyes turned inward and you had better not wish she’d cast her glance on you just a look, just a glance 2) Oyuki was the sweet love of Maruyama Okyo Oyuki was as delicate as the plum blossoms outside her window she sang songs of love and covered Okyo with sweet kisses Ah, she was young and she played the shamisen and she had such pleasing arts and uttered such words they lingered days and nights in Okyo’s mind But she died young… beautiful, like the cherry blossoms in the morning and gone, faded in the evening 3) and at nights all Okyo could see in dreams and in the dark was gentle Oyuki, sweet Oyuki hovering in the mist floating, lingering, smiling in his dreams, and in the dark and he painted, Okyo painted the Ghost of Oyuki a portrait of his beloved Oyuki and that freed him into sleep and peace into quiet and calm 4) but at nights if you see in dreams and in the dark the form and beauty of Oyuki floating, lingering, smiling in your dreams and in the dark then you must offer a petal, a dumpling or what must please her so she will go, that gentle Oyuki, sweet Oyuki or you might offer her a poem, a soothing one as I did, and she might plant a cold kiss on your cheek a cold one as she flits past, gliding away in all the mist to see who she might catch with no love of art, with no skill to please
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Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 8:29 AM UTC
the ghost of Oyuki
1) see the yurei the ghost of Oyuki… hair free of the ornate pins and scattered over her shoulders she hovers in her white robe her hands loose and she’s covered in mist below her waist she has a smile, her eyes turned inward and you had better not wish she’d cast her glance on you just a look, just a glance 2) Oyuki was the sweet love of Maruyama Okyo Oyuki was as delicate as the plum blossoms outside her window she sang songs of love and covered Okyo with sweet kisses Ah, she was young and she played the shamisen and she had such pleasing arts and uttered such words they lingered days and nights in Okyo’s mind But she died young… beautiful, like the cherry blossoms in the morning and gone, faded in the evening 3) and at nights all Okyo could see in dreams and in the dark was gentle Oyuki, sweet Oyuki hovering in the mist floating, lingering, smiling in his dreams, and in the dark and he painted, Okyo painted the Ghost of Oyuki a portrait of his beloved Oyuki and that freed him into sleep and peace into quiet and calm 4) but at nights if you see in dreams and in the dark the form and beauty of Oyuki floating, lingering, smiling in your dreams and in the dark then you must offer a petal, a dumpling or what must please her so she will go, that gentle Oyuki, sweet Oyuki or you might offer her a poem, a soothing one as I did, and she might plant a cold kiss on your cheek a cold one as she flits past, gliding away in all the mist to see who she might catch with no love of art, with no skill to please
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“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves. Until there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.” –Sayuri, Memoirs of a Geisha I bet the Furies are laughing For such misery Fate has made me. Anymore and I’ll do more than pitying, A hopeless case as bad as it’ll be. Maybe it’s all being orchestrated And what’s missing is a cut-off thread. Never a love like this be requited, Oh,throw me by all means, good and dead. No wonder, I’m gluttonous of desire, And here, I’m Cerberus’ best feast. Even as I struggle away from the fire, Well,I’m still caught in the least. Go ahead, feed on my carcass, Likewise, suffer like Fantine. Singing in misery till I pass, Carry me away to a lake with pristine. I wish then to not hear a lull, Let that gentle hand rescue my soul. Now my heart’s safe from hurt or fall, Ready to be given for a better goal. Good riddance from the hands of Eris, But am I really cleared off? Romance,not even found out of Paris, Never mine to be with or to scoff. So until then, I’ll dance alone With an accompaniment of a shamisen, Seeking my love to be requited on the zone Behind a fan and mask smothered by a writer’s pen. Don’t forget in my sleeves, a swan song Is waiting to be released so… Pick what appeases you for long, Be it I’m Not That Girl, No Good Deed, or Let It Go.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
Call Me The Modern-day Hera (Put My Heart Away)
play us a tune O delightful playful woman; your pose and your head turned in casual ease and your shamisen held in theatrical style all that spontaneity is itself a performance - but still, play us a tune; bring down your bachi and pluck at the three strings and bring us from Japan distant and Japan past O bring us the delights of life that exudes radiant on your face and limbs… Play your shamisen; begin, O delightful playful woman
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Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 5:14 AM UTC
Seated Woman with Shamisen
My heart is driven by the hymns of selflessness, The falling sakura leaves touch the strings, Playing a beautiful melody on shamisen. I'm resonating, One with the nature, My heart beats fifty dying stars a second, Such is the magic of a heartbreak. The ecstatic hallucination, The vicious pleasure, Raging sanity, Evaporates. Become one with reality, Let your wounds sing the hymn of pain. -Ikigai Poet
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Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
The Hymn of Pain