Roses of Sharon by primusboy


									Roses of Sharon
I wrote this poem in honor of any non-Japanese who kept Japanese-American
property safe on Bainbridge Island, WA, during the WWII Japanese-American
Internment. If there even were any such people. Most other Americans
ripped off J-A property, and bought their houses from the US government
for cheap.
However, I should warn you that the above historic event is not really
what this poem is about. It's actually a series of images having to do
with life in general on Bainbridge Island, and does not directly relate
to the Internment at all; now that you're warned, go ahead and read to
your heart's content.
In order to round this poetry's word count out to 200 words or more, a
brief lesson on its form is required. The poetry below is informally
titled "haiku," which is a Japanese style of onomotopaeic poetry that
also is supposed to conjer up an image or several images in your mind.
Onomotopaeia refers to words such as "splash" that emblamize a sound.
Some haiku is very set and determined in its metre, and is confined to a
set amount of lines. The poem below is Americanized haiku, which means
that it is more "free verse" in its styling, and that it's not quite held
to such strict standards.
Are broken sideways.
The moon is the guide,
time and time again,
muddy as bean-paste
mixed with vinegar.
Oars hit waves.
My old self sits again,
with a bit of madness in me.
A big ball of snow,
not quite his fill;
piercing alarms to drive a badger away,
the beautiful pears ripe in his garden,
who my neighbor truly is.
In a way, it was fun not to see Mt. Fuji in foggy rain.
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