His black skin held tight
The red blood that pumped life,
Until she cut him.
Her pale complexion
Always hid the red blood,
Until she was shamed.
Her ancient ancestry
Stayed in her red blood,
Until the city stole her innocence.
Kneeling in prayer
Red blood sang through his body,
Until hatred ended his life.
Our naked desires
Our blood red insides
Our loves and fears
The vessel matters not
The souls are all alike.
The heart pumps the same -
Once again I have used a word that some may find offensive, so please don’t read further if you think you may be offended. I have not used the word gratuitously and I believe that without the word, the character of the senryu would be softened and it’s impact significantly reduced. If you choose to leave I understand and wish you all the best; if you read on, I hope you find the piece meaningful. Kind regards, Andy.
Through my fingers,
Like grains of sand on a windy beach –
Through this life I fumble with ideas –
Beginning, and seldom finishing.
These damn brain tangles mislead.
My once noble pursuit seems lost –
Into a fog of dementia.
golden fish swims, gulps
warm spring air at the surface
never fears the stork
winter house beckons
ghost bells jangle between trees
sunrise warms my heart
Old age approaches. Death stalks his dreams. He hangs Ghost Bells in trees to ward off evil spirits. Then another sunrise, full of promise and life arrives – a new day to savour.
Translation by Google (hopefully it is close)