a dream inside out, said Princess Haiku

dreaming inside out
transparent the white flowers
nowhere else to go

only light, Princess Haiku
,

Princess Haiku listened to the ghostly music of "Kafka On The Shore"

A Poetic Excerpt from "Kafka on the Shore," by Haruki Murakami; a novel the New Yorker calls, "An insistently metaphysical mind-bender." A book that should be required reading for all living spirits.

"Oshima stays behind and helps me close up for the night.
"By any chance have you fallen in love with somebody?" he asks. "You seem kind of out of it."
I don't have any idea how I should respond. "Oshima," I finally say. "this is a pretty weird thing to ask, but do you think it's possible for someone to become a ghost while they're still alive?"
He stops straightening up the counter and looks at me. "A very interesting question, actually. Are you asking about the human spirit in a literary sense-metaphorically, in other words? Or do you mean in actual fact?"
"More in actual fact, I guess," I say.
"The assumption that ghosts literally exist?"
"Right."
Oshima removes his glasses, wipes them with his handkerchief, and puts them back on. "That's what's called a "living spirit.".....


Kafka on the Shore

You sit at the edge of the world,
I am in a crater that's no more.
Words without letters
Standing in the shadow of the door.

The moon shines down on a sleeping lizard.
Little fish rain down from the sky.
Outside the window there are soldiers,
steeling themselves to die.

(Refrain)

Kafka sits in a chair by the shore,
Thinking of the pendulum that moves the world, it seems.
When your heart is closed.
The shadow of the unmoving Sphinx,
Becomes a knife that pierces your dreams.

The drowning girl's fingers
Search for the entrance stone, and more.
Lifting the hem of her azure dress,
She gazes-
at Kafka on the shore.

More zap on Haruki Murakami here.

Princess Haiku Dreaming of the Sea

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I was in Berkeley, a few days ago and enjoyed a pristine walk along the Berkeley Marina. The beauty of this landscape always touches me in unique ways. The end of the film, "Kite Runner" was filmed here and on windy days it's the perfect place to fly a bright kite and set your spirit free.

Inspired by Japonisme

Lotusgreen recently posted a "Queen of the Mums" post that has so inspired me that I promised to write a haiku for her. I haven't been able to write recently though, as I have had a headache for two weeks. I am thinking perhaps it is a Spring allergy thing and hopefully, it will be over soon. Japanisme is one of the gorgeous blogs I visit that has Zapped me.

The first Princess Haiku Zap Award to Japonisme!

White flowers in Spring

Everywhere I look, this transparent Spring.

mermaids, said Princess Haiku and their ceaseless singing

I am in this mood, said Princess Haiku where I want to return to the sea. It is so close and yet whenever I reach for the green water of silk, dreams and remembrances it vanishes. Perhaps if I knew the right song the sea would open. -A lament for a mermaid's far journey.

there is a Daphne in all of us

Daphne -Laurel tree
She was a young beautiful nymph, daughter of the river god Peneus. She was a huntress who dedicated herself to Artemis, goddess of the hunt, and, like the goddess, refused to marry. She was pursued by many admirers but she rejected every lover, including the powerful son of Zeus, Apollo. Apollo fell in love with Daphne, and when she rejected his advances, he pursued her through the woods. Daphne got frightened and prayed to her father for help. Whereupon her father told her that he would protect her by turning her into a Laurel Tree on the bank of his river (Greek native daphne). When Apollo came looking for Daphne, her father told him that she was transformed into a Laurel tree. Apollo then cut off some branches and made himself a crown of laurel branches.

my name is Winter, said the pale magenta rose

On a perfectly ordinary day, I found this rose, said the mysterious Princess Haiku. Perhaps it wasn't.

the flower turned to glass before my eyes

What else could I do, said Princess Haiku, I decided to wait...

Yundi Li; poetry in motion

Deutsche Grammophon has a spiffy new web log for pianist, Yundi Li. Currently it features an interview between Seiji Ozawa and Yundi, "Poetry and Technique in a Rare State of Harmony." The blog attempts to communicate a sense of the poetic beauty of Yundi's playing and misses. Fortunately, this doesn't matter and the web log does have some graces; visually attractive and with some great music clips on it.

Princess Haiku has heard the music of Chopin as played by the gifted young pianist, in her dreams. In fact said Princess Haiku, I stopped by Pere Lachaise the other day for a tete a tete with Baudelaire and Keats, and who was sitting on the stone angel pointing towards heaven? Why it was Chopin himself, claiming he was still being pursued by the notorious George Sand and that he needed to rest. And then he told me that he was working on a new piece, "The Chrysanthemum Sonata" for Yundi and if he were still alive, he would this and that....

And on and on. Some ghosts don't know when they are done said Princess Haiku, as she disappeared over the edge of the moon, with her pet whippet, Nimble of Thrace, but I do.

Kiku, Kiku

I saw this white chrysanthemum from the New York Botanical Garden posted on flickR.



When it's all too much this ephemeral creature speaks to me, said Princess Haiku, of ancient legends, poetic beauty.... meditation...

Wrapping the chrysanthemum cloak around her like a shimmering moonlight of possibility, Princess Haiku vanished.

Doesn't she always?

surprised by Yellow, said Princess Haiku

The sky was dark and poignant with rain. There was a pause before the first drops fell and it was YELLOW! How is it that I found yellow today when I was looking for grey clouds.

following Lotus, into oblivion

It is the time of the year when we follow night to the edge. Nothing lies before us but solstice darkness and plaintive chords of oblivion. It was Lotusgreen, who told Princess Haiku, to search for Astor Piazzolla.

She found him by Moon light?

haiku in white

at moon rise knowing
you will never walk again with me,
spill of winter light

a dream, said Princess Haiku

"Who know not love from amity,
Nor my reported self from me;
A fair fit gift is this, meseems,
You give--this withering flower of dreams.

"O frankly fickle, and fickly true,
Do you know what the days will do to you?
To your Love and you what the days will do,
O frankly fickle, and fickly true?

"You have loved me, Fair, three lives--or days:
'Twill pass with the passing of my face.
But where I go, your face goes too,
To watch lest I play false to you.

"I am but, my sweet, your foster-lover,
Knowing well when certain years are over
You vanish from me to another;
Yet I know, and love, like the foster-mother.

"So, frankly fickle, and fickly true!
For my brief life--while I take from you
This token, fair and fit, meseems,
For me--this withering flower of dreams."

* * *

The sleep-flower sways in the wheat its head,
Heavy with dreams, as that with bread:
The goodly grain and the sun-flushed sleeper
The reaper reaps, and Time the reaper.

I hang 'mid men my needless head,
And my fruit is dreams, as theirs is bread:
The goodly men and the sun-hazed sleeper
Time shall reap, but after the reaper
The world shall glean of me, me the sleeper!

by Francis Thompson


With appreciation for all of the flowers in my garden:

Japonisme
East Coast Dweller
Get Zapped
Absolute Vanilla
she Who Flies
Jac
Antonia
Marion
dream catcher
kat

self revelation in the music of Helene Grimaud

Luminous qualities that can be appreciated in the virtuosity of pianist, Helene Grimaud are self reflection and intuition. Grimaud's piano provides an intimate portrayal of her feminine psyche and an intensity of feeling that belongs to the archetypes of dreams and introspection.

These same qualities can be disturbing to some people and would explain the unreasonable criticism that is at times directed towards her. Perhaps her music is too personal, too close to the source for those who are afraid of "the fire within."

I see Grimaud's interpretive music as being in the tradition of Anne Sexton or Sylvia Plath in that she takes the "other" into an interior and purely subjective realm of intense feeling.




The Kiss

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!

Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see - Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!

Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.

My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.

Anne Sexton

Hélène Grimaud - Rhapsodie n°1 - Brahms
Uploaded by r6boy

immortelle, called Princess Haiku, where are you hiding?

Princess Haiku hurried home for the flower twilight was wrapping the world in its petal tight fog. I know they are hiding somewhere she said to herself. The last time I looked I could feel them and now this emptiness...........

honoring those who have passed on; Day of the Dead

Today is the Day of the Dead and I am honoring the ones that I have loved who have passed on. Tonight I will observe a traditional Day of the Dead procession with mariachis and giant puppets. I am thinking about things that my departed loved ones taught me when they were alive about love, faith, struggle and courage.

I am leaving white flowers at the edge of the gate, that opens between worlds for my beloved mother, who left this world too young.

Tonight, I will post photos of the giant puppets.

a Gift for Princess Haiku from Julian Pegler

Thank you, Jules, said Princess Haiku, they are exquisite.

For more wonderful sights visit the Creativist.

I dreamed I was in the midnight garden of the Taj Mahal, said Princess Haiku

The white marble tomb of the Taj Mahal stands prominently along the Yamuna riverbank, situated on the northern edge of a classic four-fold Mughal garden built in Agra, India in the 17th century. Although legends of a "Black Taj" across the river had long been dismissed, this research examined the archaeological evidence at the garden opposite the Taj Mahal, known as the Mahtab Bagh or "Moonlight Garden." Working as a collaborative team, we sought to determine the landscape architectural aims, layout, components, and meanings at this historic Mughal garden.

Special thanks to Moonriver who first published a similar post.