Chen-ou Liu's Translation Project: First English-Chinese Haiku and Tanka Blog

Showing posts with label Kokako. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kokako. Show all posts

Sunday, October 26, 2025

Home Village Tanka

in the home village
this storm-damaged oak tree
our initials
and overlapping hearts
carved deeper than the rest

Saturday, October 25, 2025

Homeland Tanka

I murmur
the return to my homeland ...
two parts of me
stretch over a preposition
and a surging ocean

Friday, October 24, 2025

Birth Steam Haiku

slant winter light
the birth steam
of a new calf

included in The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku, 2025

Thursday, October 23, 2025

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

Friday, May 30, 2025

Raven after Raven Tanka

from tree to tree
crying raven after raven ...
the night dark 
and colder around me
since being laid off 

Thursday, May 29, 2025

Post-Election Blues Tanka

post-election blues ...
in morning chill
yet the jagged twigs
of this oak stump
stretching skywards

Monday, May 26, 2025

First Train Ride Tanka

first train ride
to my father's hometown ...
the lengthy chat
with this middle-aged man
in the rain-streaked window

Sunday, May 25, 2025

Friday, May 23, 2025

Saturday, November 2, 2024

Friday, November 1, 2024

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Selected Haiku: Black Smoke Haiku

braids of black smoke
tied and untied
by the winter wind

Kokako, 25, 2016

Sunday, August 25, 2019

Saturday, August 24, 2019

Selected Haibun: Collateral Damage

for Susan Sontag

white poppy
pinned to her son's first suit
Remembrance Day

Inside the top drawer of her husband's wooden desk, there is an old photo album. It starts with pictures of toy trucks, toy soldiers, toy tanks, and other delights of boys from the neighborhood playing in the sunlight. It ends with the picture of a new military cemetery with a row of white crosses in winter mist.

Note: First introduced by British pacifists in 1926, the white poppy is used as a symbol of peace and worn as an alternative to (or complement to) the red poppy for Remembrance Day.

Kokako, 24, April 2016

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

An Immigrant Poet

Like a Chinese coolie laboring in a foreign mine, I try hard to dig out those English words that resonate with my  thoughts of home and pent-up emotions on a moonless night. Most of the time I don’t get any pleasure from  writing, apart from those fleeting moments when I extract gold from the sands of a river that winds through this  land of ghostly memories.

writing done
I open the window
to smell the sunshine

Kokako, 29, 2018

Friday, December 21, 2018

Winter Rain Haiku

winter rain ...
alone in my rented room
with a pile of books

Kokako, 29, 2018

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Goodwill Haiku

all these things
packed in boxes for Goodwill
death anniversary

Kokako, 29, 2018

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Childhood Home Haiku

the echo
of fading footsteps ...
childhood home for sale

Kokako, 29, 2018