Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 106th. week vol. 2

Of some mistakes, to tear off and throw at, on his tricycle.
After pinky promise with you (a scar of to cut my finger), now too late it is, a taste of jam.
Not to upset water in, in a leaned frame of, a lake there is. Or, not to upset water in, to incline your head, a lake there is.
Over load, over road, over lord.
Fizz and fizz from hot water sounds, two small sake cups, our kneecaps each other.

posted =oyo= : 04:22 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 106th. week vol. 1

At this night wriggling of us, runnel of sweat on your skin, my spit running parallel to.
Runs round and round merry-go-round, running to make this ring dance and around.
An only child he is, though not to see Mt. Fuji, tries to compare heights with. Or, an only child he is, though not to exist with two as the same, tries to compare heights with.
With my sin, to try to smash under one's foot, this tissue box.
In a phantom town I’m there, dare to persist, the pseudo-haiku-poet does.

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2014年04月23日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days,the 105th. week vol. 2

Cherry blossoms are fallin’, where they will go, a black butterfly follows.
On her lips, putting her first finger, she carries the cello.
On his shoulder to carry a scythe, for a man standing still at the station, morning has come.
For a Japanese freshwater crab, on streaming water, and crimson flowers from her drift.
A knitter knits, by the length of thread, until it ends.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 105th. week vol. 1

Sticky it is, to be basked by a blue light, in the the budding season.
To spread a mat on the field, more than a number of the people, of the chopsticks there are.
Under the moon, to push to understand, the sound by beaten.
To put down flowers for offering, running to cross the street at the crossing, three children is.
I see, a girl cry for, her voice is trembling.

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2014年04月16日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 104th. week an addendum

About your hands behind you, only for excusing yours, talkative they are.
Riding on an ox carriage, a girl with a crimson tongue, under the misty moon.
With a head of a dog, a small couch have rusted.
An Ohmu under the sunshines, gets its alas and fly, and a girl who loves insects does.
Like sunshines gently and clearly, the man who obsessed with thoughts of sex, and fake water on the road.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 104th. week vol. 2

Of the rookie, to get his shoulder injury, and Dutch hyacinth grows.
To dream a dream you say, a lie to be taken advantage of it is, beside you understand that.
At the kitchen to come down with an illness, a milestone to the hell, a pot should be.
On facing my death, to meet and love you again. Or, to ask my death for, to meet and love you again.
Let’s run away, to close the toilet seat cover, we forget.

posted =oyo= : 05:47 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 104th. week vol. 1

Like having your foot in the grave, to smash under your foot, on a field of flowers.
A property those who depends on, will want to be swallowed by it.
Snowmelt comes, the invisible men will come, it’s the time of the season for. Or, snowmelt comes, from this time, the invisible man I’ve been.
Smells booze and pee, at the theater for yakuza movies.
To try to assimilate with me, put her arms around my neck.

posted =oyo= : 05:44 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年04月09日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 103rd. week vol. 2

Also the twins, to be stepping on, a tail of rainbow.
Blood on hot water in the bath, a drop of fallin’, to make it thin.
Water have flowed away, fire on a match, like a scene by Andrei Tarkovsky.
From 4th to 14th, it will go over the Atlantic.
Water gets warm in spring, to roll your sleeves up above your knee, it makes parallel lines.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 103rd. week vol. 1

Sleeping only, to be in distress, a cat my neighbor. Or, sleeping only, to be in distress, becoming a cat in the next door.
On a tissue paper, follow a historical fact of Marquis de Sade had done, to count up to by tally marks. Or, on a tissue paper, follow a historical fact of Marquis de Sade had done, to do a hand job.
A rouge line on your lips, a bar in Crazy Horse, to put on your crotch again.
About the Adam's apple, a ridge on you, drowning different from mine.
It’s cold under cherry blossoms, your sleeves I miss, and hot sake.

posted =oyo= : 06:40 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年04月02日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 102nd. week vol. 3

Be wet by, on the pillow her saliva, spuit sucks.
To trail blood on the tracks, and climb up a hill, a Crucifixion there is.
To cut a dash, you look so desperate, it’s not suit for.
On the road I should go, in double exposure, or right or left.
On seeing you again, to offer me in your sacrifice and become as the rest.

posted =oyo= : 09:15 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 102nd. week vol. 2

Only sincere lies, to make notes of, and write on the blackboard.
Until cherry blossoms had fallen, no lines under there, of the hanged bodies.
To bend yourself, and shave your unwanted, you and your shadow I see.
By cheap liquor, to pretend to be drunken, because of living in a cheaply built house.
A girl not to sell at this bar, to weep with a pepper, April Fool on her shoulder.

posted =oyo= : 09:13 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 102nd. week vol. 1

With no umbrella, a woman for others (not for me), you I’ll meet.
Lost your tongue, to eat mushrooms, your chin falls down.
At a parting scene, to weep, all one have to do is.
A reason for concern I have though, cannot relieve or scatter, dawn comes and rains it.
To count on my fingers, before my holidays come, it’s my hand-job.

posted =oyo= : 09:11 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年03月26日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 101st. week vol. 2

A one only pretends not to know, of the Mercy Goddess who has eleven faces.
Well done it is, child on my shoulder, who has no mouth.
To melt and to make itself poison, a snake in his bosom, to have a harmful result for a snake.
The universe from a shell, spitting sand out day by day, of her dream.
With an arrow wheel, not to go anywhere, to stay by windsock. Or, with an arrow wheel, not to go anywhere, to blow and to float down on the water.

posted =oyo= : 05:22 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 101st. week vol. 1

In the films, all of eight women, called as Anna. Or, in the films, all of eight women, Mina and Anna.
At dawn, a laugh floating, by Aka Manto.
On the journey in eternity, not to dust returnest, to bury at universe.
To cremate, a woman only left, at a desert island. Or, to cremate, the lonely woman for us, at a desert island.
A cat is immortal, it is sure never die it will, Fujiko Mine called as. (In Japanese, Fujiko Mine is the anagram of Neko Fujimi, it means an immortal cat.)

posted =oyo= : 05:20 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年03月19日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 100th. week vol.2

On the edge of the moon, to remember you by, a piece of rust there is.
Heavy oil floating, her little finger of the widow, feeding to sharks.
Cendrillon dares, beside a nuclear reactor, to get warm.
An Ama, Japanese woman diver landed, her collarbones have wet, it tastes water.
Sexual is also desire, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers. Or, how good colours they are, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers. Otherwise, for a sweetheart useful they are, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers.

posted =oyo= : 06:08 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 100th. week vol. 1

To come out of mourning, the time has come to turn the lights off, at the nightless city.
Of a passion flower, clock mainspring has cracked open, and a whip yields.
A hero for the novel, to be left not to be born, incomplete.
If you are the man, to get the virgin records, here’s the sex pistols.
The legs spinning by, morning glory, the well-bucket twisted.

posted =oyo= : 06:06 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年03月12日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 3

A flowers from an illusion, blooming the time has come, the fool says.
For a substitute of this spring, of the clown, coming off his nose, into the eye. Or, for a substitute of this spring, of the clown, coming off his nose, as a bud.
From this mortal coil, flowing and in high spirits, and her body jumping off. Or, from this mortal coil, flowing and in high spirits, only I can be.
To put down a stone for which being used to place the body in a coffin, at the funeral for my father. only I laugh.
Being plastered to, a toe getting wet with, having a taste of honey. Or, being plastered to, a toe getting wet with, honey on her leg.

posted =oyo= : 09:05 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 2

Since that day, the sounds of tap water, to agree I heard. Or, since that day, the sounds of tap water, from the ducts I heard.
Scissors in the hand, of which in the inner part, an eye watches.
Those who you called, he waves in the wind, a bad company does.
Chasin’ her ball, and to go missing, the frog were.
Her tide is down, being left to dirty the tops of her feet.

posted =oyo= : 09:03 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 1

Begging for another five minutes, five minutes it takes, five minutes have still passed.
Of a snail, agony can’t understand, Remi “Sans famille” does. Or, of a snail, agony can’t understand, a child who cannot speak does.
Just mother and her child, it’s me, a bruise also I have.
All day long at spring it is, to string out (records of) sonata, scores of people are there.
Over and over again, piled up films of her portraits, to be dyed in black.

posted =oyo= : 09:01 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年03月05日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 98th. week vol. 3

Over thirty years old, heard Japanese bush warbler call, I know Japanese apricot was there. Or, across the thirtieth street, heard Japanese bush warbler call, it told me to have a baby.
On a tryst is it, around a solitary pine tree, turn turn and turn seven times.
On July, no water, no god. Or, having a card of July, but no cards of June and October.
To a disjoin, the Japanese god standing at streets, put on a red clothes, Saint Nicolas looked on.
A swallow first appearance in this season, of the clothes line, sweeps under. Or, a wallow first appearance in this season, the edge of his sword Bisen-Nagahune-Osamitsu called as Monogoshizao by Sasaki Kojiro, escapes from brilliantly.

posted =oyo= : 08:07 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)