Orchid Tierney

Image source. First published in The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations, edited by Nicholas Ferrar, 1633.

Light rain is on the light dust
The willows of the inn-yard
Will be going greener and greener,
But you, Sir, had better take wine ere
your departure,
For you will have no friends about you
When you come to the gates of Go.

Original poem by either Rihaku or Omakittsu. Public domain poem sourced from Painted Rice Cakes

For more poetry visit Tuesday Poem

The petals fall in the fountain,
the orange-coloured rose-leaves,
Their ochre clings to the stone.

I stumbled upon this public domain anthology in the weekend to my delight. Can anyone enlighten me in which Pound collection this haiku appears?

i ride
around
a round
about

like (i
wish u
would
think
of me

like i
think
of u

like i
think
of me)

going
back
to check
th’locked
door

agn

- First published in Hands Like Mirrors

I am fortunate to be included with Anna T. McLeod in  this year’s Metonymy exhibition at the Corban Estate. Our joint work ‘Transliterations’ is an asemic ‘document’ which explores the  linguistic lacunas and vacuums of meaning  in Te Tiriti O Waitangi. The exhibition opens on the 8th September at 1800 and will run until  9th October.

Last night a thief came to me
And struck at me with something dark.
I cried, but no one could hear me,
I lay dumb and stark.

When I awoke this morning
I could find no trace;
Perhaps ’twas a dream of warning,
For I’ve lost my peace.

Lawrence, DH, New Poems, New York: B.W. Huebsch, 1916.

http://asemic-net.blogspot.com/2011/08/me-we-number-1.html

A little bit of cheating. I posted this asemic piece on another website but it’s a fantastic space of asemic writers and I certainly encourage readers to have a look through the incredible range of writing.

Te Tiriti O Waitangi

I’m currently experimenting with the boundaries of sound and poetry. This is my first attempt. Each letter of the English alphabet codifies to a corresponding pitch. This score spells out the word ‘Te Tiriti O Waitangi.’

Needless to say, no reproduction without prior consent.



When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lowest chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
‘Come out! Come out!’ -
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,—
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether ’tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.

Frost, Robert, A Boy’s Will, New York: Henry Holt, 1915.