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Updated on January 27, 2010

Real poetry is to lead a beautiful life...


"Real poetry," said Basho, "is to lead a beautiful life... To live poetry
is better than to write it." And whenever he saw one of his young
students being rude, in a fit of anger, or otherwise acting unworthily,
he would gently lay his hand on the arm of the youth and say:

"But this is not poetry! This is not poetry."

HAIKU by MATSUO BASHO (1644 – November 28, 1694) - a gentle

poet who was a master of a style of poetry called "haiku"

:: The Narrow Road to Deep North

...With a bit of madness in me
Which is poetry
I plod along like Chikusai
Among the wails of the wind...

...In a way
It was fun
Not to see Mount Fuji
In foggy rain...

...I hope to have gathered
To repay your kindness
The willow leaves
Scattered in the garden...

...Together let us eat
Ears of wheat,
Sharing at night
A grass pillow...

...With your singing
Make me lonelier than ever,
You, solitary bird,
Cuckoo of the forest...

...A white narcissus
And a white paper screen
Illuminate each other
In the quiet room...


...Seized with impatience
Half way on the road,
Round, as yet round,
My dreams keep revolving...

...As firmly cemented clamshell's
Fall apart in autumn,
So I must take to the road again,
Farewell, my friends...

...A single leaf -
Just a single leaf has fallen,
And was swept away breathless
By a gust of wild wind...

...Under the bright moon
I walked round and round
The lake -
All night long...


Haiku Definition
Haiku by the Masters
The Haiku Poets Hut



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    • Artamia profile image

      Artamia 7 years ago from GTA, Canada

      Dear Mr. MFB III,

      I think Basho could affirm you: YOUR LIFE IS POETRY!

      Thank-You for your lovely comment in triple Haiku...

    • MFB III profile image

      MFB III 7 years ago from United States

      To live the words

      so prettily painted

      on tree pulp stained

      such a goal

      should never ever be fiction

      in a poet's life

      but rather a

      diary of joy shared

      amidst the masses in both

      flesh and ink

      dancing daily across

      the smiles of those who

      exist with less dreams.

      Lovely write.~~~MFB III