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

Showing posts with label Ribbons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ribbons. Show all posts

Monday, August 3, 2026

Remembering

"doctor, please
the sounds, they won''t leave"
a boy mutters …
buzzing of drones, roar of jets
screams of Gazans, living and dead

For days he lies curled in a shelter bed, staring at the pockmarked wall as if it could answer him, until the sounds lodged deep inside his head finally overwhelm him.

When the razor wire outside glints with the first light of a new day, silence enters his head … and his life, five years older than the war that claimed it.

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Sunday, August 2, 2026

Human, All Too Human

heated breaths
and tangled bedsheets
bodies and dreams . . .
the bittersweet burden
of this love affair
 
to Kintsugi Master
I lament, with gold glue
could you piece back
my shattered heart?
a cloak of silence falls
 
chance encounter
at a motel ice machine . . .
with eyes and hands
we undress each other’s armor
curling into a single dream

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Friday, July 31, 2026

War News on Mute Tanka

war news on mute …
the morning light spills
over garden beds
where herb seeds nudge the crust
seeking room to grow

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Sunday, January 25, 2026

First Return Journey Tanka

first return journey
to this punk-haired younger self
in my mind's window
I murmur, did you ever
find where your heart could rest

Ribbons, 21:2, Autumn/Winter  2025

Saturday, January 24, 2026

Wall of Time Tanka

I'm fine, I'm fine
I repeat to myself
in the mirror ...
these scratching and gnawing
sounds inside the wall of Time

Ribbons, 21:2, Autumn/Winter  2025

Monday, May 19, 2025

The Burden of Peace

"When Time crawled to reach 8:30 AM on Sunday, a cascade of relief, joy and hope washed over us. Fifteen months of horror now come to an end, at least for six weeks. And yet, as cry after cry erupts around us, echoing “Allahu Akbar!” into the air, I can't shake the inky heaviness that lingers in my heart when I see what's happened to us..."

I gaze at the ellipsis at the end of my friend's X post. It speaks of falling into the spaces, untold and foreign, and strikes me with its longing.

each bombed-out house:
an album with no photos
but with people
living, wounded and dead
pressed between its pages

Before I log out, another bit of viral Gaza news appears on my X feed: "At least four Palestinians were allegedly shot dead by the Israeli snipers since the ceasefire went into effect." The embedded video shows a man trying to drag a boy’s lifeless body before he too is shot.

anything new
under Gaza's smeared sun?
smoky rubble
beyond smoky rubble, and yet
again smoky rubble

Ribbons, 21:1, 2025

Sunday, May 18, 2025

Use of Poetry Tanka

For Seamus Heaney, Ireland's most renowned poet since Yeats, playwright and translator who received the 1995 Nobel Prize in Literature, who claimed: 

In a war situation or where violence and injustice are prevalent, poetry is called upon to be something more than a thing of beauty.


shooting after shooting,                        
what's the use of poetry
in daily life?
between finger and thumb my pen
tucked snug as a gun

Ribbons, 21:1, 2025


FYI: Listen to CBC's May 23, 2010 interview with Nobel Prize-winner Seamus Heaney on the place of politics in poetry. 

Saturday, May 17, 2025

Lone Cry Tanka

the lone cry
of a goose out of the flock ...
my drunken shadow
and I slow-dance to the sound
of our migrant memory

Ribbons, 21:1, 2025

Saturday, October 12, 2024

A Makeover

oh, you speak well
where are you really from?
behind the fence
my neighbor, a native speaker
of the weasel language 

this dream loop,
a moment in Taipei
then next in Ajax ...
mental quicksand where
the past drowns the present

another round
of armed conflict in the news
as a new year starts
I ponder the endings
in my immigrant life

Ribbons, 20:2, Autumn/Winter 2024

Wednesday, October 9, 2024

Void Tanka

three lines
into the first tanka
of this dark night ...
I pause and listen
to the void in my life

Ribbons, 20:2, Autumn/Winter 2024

Tuesday, October 8, 2024

A Corner of This Broken World

After a long pause, her voice cracking on the phone, my Israeli friend tells me, "I don't know how to calm my two girls. We're near the border, and they're frightened by the piercing sound of fighter jets constantly flying over our community. Sometimes, they can hear the boom, boom, boom from a distance just minutes after fighter jets fly past our house. I can only comfort them by saying that these are good booms. I feel guilty, I... " My friend hangs up the phone.

the sunset
in a blaze of orange and red
across the sky ...
Gazan children's faces raw
with fear of the unknown

Ribbons, 20:2, Autumn/Winter 2024


FYI: For more poems about the Israel-Hamas War, Special Feature, October 7: Selected Poems for Reflections on "CeaseFire Now" and "Saving the Children"

Saturday, June 8, 2024

The Smell of Sorrow

all day rain ...
the puddles outside
and inside
these ripped plastic shelters
at the edge of Rafah

After the rain, at a camp located roughly a mile away from sandy terrain, strewn with rubbish and debris, men, women and children carry buckets of sand back and forth, back and forth, between their tents and the sandy area. A girl suddenly drops her bucket, then sits on the muddy groud, crying. For a moment, she stares up at the sky as if someone were listening.

Ribbons, 20:1, Winter 2024
Pushcart Prize Nomination by  the Tanka Society of America
Contemporary Haibun Anthology 20

Friday, June 7, 2024

Rain Shower Tanka

rain shower                 
after a heat wave
the laughter of kids
chasing dogs 
chasing kids

Ribbons, 20:1, Winter 2024

Wednesday, June 5, 2024

War after War Tanka

the butcher
throwing more meat
into his grinder 
the wall-mounted TV blasts
war after war ...

Ribbons, 20:1, Winter 2024

Saturday, December 9, 2023

Independence

"Dear Chen-ou, I hope this email finds you well. Share with you my family photo, which was taken this glorious morning." 

In the photo, my friend, his wife and two daughters, wrapping themselves in the flags of blue and yellow, stand with arms linked before a row of rusty Russian tanks on Liberation Square. 

My friend used to be a Surrealist poet, known for his purposeful use of "obscure and unwieldy verbiage." He sent me the following poem at the end of his lengthy and furious email a week after the Russian invasion.

in smoky twilight
the head of I cut off
the roof of M falling through --
I paint poetry with screams, 
the last phase of lyricism

His emails now are short and straight to the point, and often attached with photos to speak for his mood or state of mind, like the one he sent me today. Under his family photo, there is a caption that reads:

If Russia stops fighting, there will be no more war.
If Ukraine stops fighting, there will be no more us.

no man's land 
between barbed wire fences
the kraa-kraa-kraa 
of ravens scratching 
at the soldiers' hearts

Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023


FYI: "Independence," was nominated by the Tanka Society of America for the Pushcart Press Competition.

Friday, December 8, 2023

It's been seven hours and 15 days

for Sinéad O'Connor (8 December 1966 – 26 July 2023)

nothing compares,
nothing compares to you ...
this undead
night creature at last lets go 
of herself, of the world

nothing, nothing
can take away these blues ...
I straddle the gulf
between dream and reality
seeing her turn back, not turn back

Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023

FYI: Sinéad O’Connor called herself "undead night creature" since her son Shane died by suicide in 2022.

Thursday, December 7, 2023

Memorial Tribute Tanka

in memory of Sanford Goldstein

musing, I cram
thoughts of being a poet
into five lines ...
this man's face, his silver-hair 
ripple in the lake of my mind

Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023


FYI: My tanka below was recognized as the best embodiment of Sanford Goldstein’s singular style.

birdsongs
at morning lightfall
alone
in the thatched hut
of an everyday mind

Special Commendation for Embodying Sanford-Style
2021 Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest

Tanka Society of America Judges' Report: Introducing something new this year, we’ve chosen to honor our contest’s namesake by selecting one tanka we felt best embodied Sanford Goldstein’s singular style. Though several entries skirted the edges, this one seemed to spill top to bottom as though from Goldstein’s own pen. As is often the case in Western poetry (T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, with its salutes to Shakespeare and Dante, springs to mind), Japanese short-form poetry historically makes use of allusion to evoke the work of and pay tribute to past poetic masters. Following suit, our commended tanka harkens to Sanford Goldstein’s aptly named sequence, At the Hut of the Small Mind (which, like the best of folk songs, repeats its title refrain “hut of the small mind” no less than six times). Consider the following tanka from his sequence:

        it was roosters
        at morning light-fall—
        how joyous
        even that crack
        diagonal

Parallels present immediately between the first two lines of the selected tanka and Goldstein’s, not only in their construction but in their use of avian imagery and word choice. Both poems perk our ears with birdsong (though Goldstein’s crowing roosters are arguably more bird than song). The two tanka then echo one another as we learn we are listening at morning lightfall (light-fall). So what makes this echoing different from simply copying or plagiarizing another’s work? U.S. Fair Use doctrine poses questions that might offer answers: What is the poet’s intent? Does the new work in any way unfavorably influence the “brand” or value of the original? Has the poet created something new from the original work? In this case, we feel strongly that the poet set out to honor an acknowledged short-form master by emulating his unique literary style. We find the tanka canon rich with such veneration in the time-and-again penning of phrases such as “tangled hair” (Akiko Yosano) or “red lights” (Mokichi Saito) or “ink-dark moon” (Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aritani’s translations of Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu). In the following tanka from At the Hut of the Small Mind, Goldstein himself bows to Bashō while borrowing from his well-known works:

        I too
        am Bashō,
        fleas
        and that urine smell
        in this mountain hut

Such intentional mirroring, or honkadori, adds another layer to the tribute tanka by reflecting imagery or sentiments from the previous work in order to build upon them. Far from unfavorably influencing, this practice can revitalize and elevate both poets as their works speak to one another. The selected tanka also succeeds in making something new of the original via its solitary pivot word: alone. Unlike the joyous atmosphere created by Goldstein’s boisterous roosters, our selected tanka’s mood is, at a minimum, one of meditative solitude. Given our recent (and in some cases, ongoing or self-imposed) Covid-19 lockdowns, the intended tone may well be a more somber sense of loneliness, further amplified by the image of birds freely gathering together for their dawn chorus. As mentioned, Goldstein returns to his hut of the small mind, with all its possible implications, throughout the sequence (perhaps pointing to his ongoing struggle to bring mind under control to achieve his satori goal, as well as his humble accommodations). Our commended poet’s hut of an everyday mind conveys a sense of the “ordinary” and “ongoing,” exhibiting a universality reflective of the “new normal” many of us are still coming to terms with daily. The two poems reinforce each other by modeling one possible way to cope: we can attempt to attend to sounds and situations surrounding us in a Zen-like state of mu, a concept meaning “nothing,” which manifests itself as “mind-less mind.” In this hut of the centered self, one can awaken to acceptance and the accompanying peace of simply being. Taken together with its philosophical balm, we find this tanka by a poet inspired by a master-inspired-by-a-master . . . inspiring.

Monday, September 25, 2023

Anything new, is anything new?

Another round of tech layoffs after tech layoffs. Unseasonably cold spring weather now grips the city.

The food bank lineup curls around the street corner. This burden of silence between my former colleague, gazing at frost on the ground, and me, staring at the late afternoon sky.

trapped again
in this endless meantime ...
my past is dying
yet a new life can't be born
in this Promised Land

Ribbons, 19:2, Spring/Summer 2023

Saturday, September 23, 2023

Life-Dream Expanse Tanka

one night I’m in Ajax            
the next I’m in Taipei ...
these leaps 
of time, space and language
across this life-dream expanse 

Ribbons, 19:2, Spring/Summer 2023

FYI: This is the concluding tanka of my tanka set, "An Immigrant in the Homeland of Dreams."