ANNOUNCEMENT! The Silent Balance

Hello beautiful World, How are you all today? Hopefully enjoying the beautiful gift of life we have all been given? So, today I have a big announcement! The completion and publication of my second book, titled ‘The Silent Balance’. This book is the collected works of my Waka poetry over the last year. It contains... Continue Reading →

Dream (A Bussokusekika)

She melted within fluid realisation, stronger at hand than all the walls that rose beside her fragile euphony, free to be her world in epoch.    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Nothing (A Bussokusekika)

I woke as you left, the purple red disguise of parting tomorrows. If I had known I was as invisible as the air, I'd have still loved you wholly. Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Lost (A Bussokusekika)

Inconsequential paths are travelled, abandoned between spotlights where harmony collides against nurtured memories, distinct lovers never found as whole.    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Promises (A Bussokusekika)

I asked her to love each sentiment, familiar as a consequence, she claimed, "Tabula rasa. Conversations are always promises made in reverse."    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

I. (A Bussokusekika)

She told of drink and Hemingway, I swallowed her words and his essence, would she know the variance? Coveting her dreams for eyes too old to dream next to her.    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Life (A Bussokusekika)

It fell in flutters, surrounding her naked form, touching the air with unpretentious shades reborn. Were we ever more than fall? Those shivers named destiny.    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Love (A Bussokusekika)

I speak softly through the crumbled dissipation of memories past, below stars and canopy, conformity and freedom, my voice carves the universe.    Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Geisha’s Tears (A Bussokusekika)

*A quick poem on the move, and a new form of Waka (Japanese Poetry) for me: the Bussokusekika. It is very similar to the Tanka, but with an extra line of 7 syllables at the end*  Waters through heaven fall among the crowded streets, the Geisha, spellbound beneath unearthly downpour, has only her oil-paper umbrella, makeup and tears. Poem © Phen Weston 2014

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