Yukiko Inoue Memphis, Tennessee

Yukiko has been writing a tanka (a Japanese poem of 31 syllables) under the pen name of Fujio Tachibana. She is an active member of Suimon (a society in tanka). In addition to her published collection of poetry entitled, The Rose's Lie, Yukiko has had poems published in literary magazines in Japan, and by The National Library of Poetry. She says, "Poetry is the wail of my soul." Yukiko is a Ph.D. candidate in Educational Psychology and Research at the University of Memphis, where she has been teaching the Japanese Language course. She does research on women's issues.

Our Gaea's Wail "And then..." you asked me, gazing at the dying fire of the candle resting on the table: "Like the nature of passion, never tiring of eating, is another virgin forest going to be cleared?" Closing our faces to clounds of hanging black grapes, you and I desired a licentious affair. Fumbling for each other, we drowned in our passion before falling away beneath the sky of a brilliant night. God, who gave people leave to march off to war, also gave them leave to cut down the firewood of passion; The mountain surface was cleared, exposing red clay, soon to be bleached from the sunlight's lashing rays. Standig with you on the earth that is about to be spoiled, I try to touch the creaking of time. People, scanning Gaea, turn their faces away, saying it has nothing to do with them. Sadly true. On the barren land named "Love," the naked season comes round and tries to bud. The rain drizzles over Gaea tumid in red, Can't you hear the wail of Gaea drifting, longing for the forest where the leaves rustle, and rustled, in the wind?

Roses, You Must Be Clusters of all blooming roses boast petals within petals; closer inspection reveals the mystery of each petal's inscrutable face. Roses are cool and valiant in winter; I love the haughtiness of summer roses that blossom in shorter, more brilliant lives. Last night's dream found me in the rose garden surrounded with no way out. I madly scattered roses, petal after petal to the wind. Each summer goes by reminding me of how I love the strong boasting rose more than the fragile pink that is miserable at heart. Yellow roses, you must be yellow and yellow forever, and red roses, you must be red, red, red to the death.

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All poems Copyright © 1996 Yukiko Inoue. All rights reserved.