SENRYU SENRYU SENRYU

April is fun poetry month and, in the spirit, I asked my Facebook friends to send me some Senryu.  First let me provide a definition of Senryu.  From Wiki:

Senryū (川柳?, literally ‘river willow’) is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: three lines with 17 or fewer total morae.   Senryū tend to be about human foibles while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryū are often cynical or darkly humorous while haiku are more serious. Unlike haiku, senryū do not include a kireji (cutting word), and do not generally include a kigo, or season word.

Ok so that Wiki description was a bit academic.  The short and sweet of Senryu is that Senryu is like a haiku but instead of focusing on regular “Nature” the poem focuses on “Human Nature.”

So without further ado, here are some Senryu my friends sent me:

ERIC LAWSON- Inglewood, CA

Driftwood bonfire flames
Keep my coffee fueled daydreams
Afloat for night owls

Her hair, once blonde hue
Now a shimmering brunette
Still reeks of henna

Oral fixation
is but a taste-tester’s perk
amidst free samples

FRANK MUNDO- Rancho Cucamonga, CA

Let’s order pizza
For our wedding reception
Said no gays ever

Bush and Chaney swore
The economy was sound
And fury followed

If you do not see
People in terms of color
You only see white

No one can erase
400 years of slave trade
Except Ben Affleck

STEVE GOLDBERG- Cleveland, OH

Vertical #1
Looking
Up
and
down
reading

forward
and
sideways

reveal
new
meanings

Vertical #2
Japan
writes
like
this.

We
twist
heads
to
read
our
way.

Eastern
wisdom
here.

Vertical #3
Mind
climbs
down
from
sky

lands
on
earthbound
meadow
brook

Mud
sucking
feet
home.

(My apologies to Steve.  I couldn’t format the poems the way he wanted them to cascade down on the page.  I tried for hours but WordPress was obstinate in denying me the technical skills to format the way the poems should look on the page.)

RICHARD MODIANO- Venice, CA

Sitting in the easy chair
No cat
In my lap

MANI SURI- Lake Balboa, CA

“Spring Night”

Hunger
One early spring night
Came I just lonely to her
And ravenously.

Joy
That early spring night
Came she on chargers divine
In utter delight.

Birth
Some early spring night
Look you to the stars above
Find our nebula.

KURT HARGAN- Santa Monica, CA

Creeping kitchen bugs
City streets full of people
Go and get the spray

Homeless cries and begs
His Oscar should go well with
His expensive shoes

I know you will think
This was written about you
Sides hurt with laughter

Next door speaking loud
Door open for us to hear
All their emptiness

Mower blows over
All his trimmings to our side
Tomorrow blown back

CHARLES CLAYMORE- Los Angeles, CA

Oh, I don’t know. Let
me think about it a bit.
I’ll get back to you.

Ah, I got nothing.
Would that it were otherwise
Another five beats.

Call for poetry!
I never know what to do.
Everybody writes.

ANGEL URIEL PERALES- Valley Village, CA

White skulls feed flora
in Aokigahara Forest,
my centipede smile.

Japanese stark
slices of life,
a tatami mat,
three balls of rice.

DEBORAH P. KOLODJI- Temple City, CA

empty bottle
of sunscreen
Black’s Beach

LA traffic
our lady of the perpetually
late

your sour face
I add pineapple
to my grapefruit juice

*lingerie drawer
after the divorce
skimpier

*first published in Japan in the Shichi-Go column in the Daily Yomiuri (8-10-2004), reprinted in the Winter 2005 issue of Simply Haiku, anthologized in “After Shocks:  The Poetry of Recovery” edited by Tom Lombardo, Santa Lucia Books, 2008.  Reprinted here with permission from the author.

TERRY MCCARTY- Canoga Park, CA

My Fisrt Senryu
three in the morning
watch film noir again
part of safe exciting life

DOUGLAS RICHARDSON- Los Angeles, CA

Pedro in the streets
fearing for his life
hip-hop anthems ring hollow

rest stops on a highway
everyone and no one
are going my way

MARIE LECRIVAIN- Los Angeles, CA

“Monsterpalooza 2014, Burbank, CA”

So many creatures
Jam up the halls
It’s a monster mash

werewolf, vampire,
and swamp thing,
the Three Musketeers

A young Vampira
glides past
24 inch waist

Sleestack
or Lovecraft candles
both shine darkly

“Do you sell
Hentai DVDs”
silence

Butch Patrick mobbed
for autographs still smiles
like Eddie Munster

inside every girl
resides
The Bride of Frankenstein

theremin waltz
in A minor prelude
to a ghostly encounter

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About Rumrazor

Just a malcontent surviving in Los Angeles, working the news, writing the poetry, making the films.
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