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Best Poems From
YEN CRESS
(3/9/43)
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13.
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Good Clean Fun
She scrubs the floor on hands and knees
Nor thinks to take a moment's ease.
She dusts and waxes varnished wood
And wipes the mirrors as she should.
She polishes the silverware
And shines the glasses with a flair.
She tidies up each cluttered room:
No scraps escape her corn-straw broom.
She feeds the teak with Danish oil
And ferrets out each speck of soil.
Her chores are done; her home's like new,
And just the laundry's left to do.
But when she washes all her clothes,
No smelly socks assail her nose.
No stained and spotted pants or skirts,
No grimy blouses or tee shirts
Will swish among the foamy suds
With pretty, dainty party duds.
Her jobs are dirty, but she's shrewd-
She does her housework in the nude!
Yen Cress
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14.
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Hermit Crab's Moving Day
'Way out on the sand dunes or under a bush
Lives a critter so cute, and so clever!
He wears a smart shell on his cute little tush,
And his habits are quite an endeavor.
One evening you might see him looking for lunch.
Hermie eats off the land, like a scout.
He is fond of the beach-growing grass he can munch-
He's delighted to find a small sprout.
As he grows, Hermie knows he must find a new shell
That is bigger and better-more roomy.
If he's lucky, he finds one, and chuckles, 'Well, well!
I think this pretty murex will do me! '
So he climbs out the doorway without looking back
And he takes not a shirt nor a spoon.
No suitcase, no bag, and no trunk does he pack
When he moves by the light of the moon.
He walks backward to enter his spacious new place,
Then he digs a new basement below.
Can you see the big grin on his funny crab face?
He'll be safe when the sea breezes blow!
Yen Cress
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15.
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Hiroko
Hiroko lives in far-away Japan,
Across the ocean toward the setting sun.
She holds before her face a painted fan
And humbly bows when meeting anyone.
Hiroko has dark eyes set at a slant.
Her skin is lovely, gold, and smooth as cream.
Her lilting voice can easily enchant-
It bubbles like a little forest stream.
Hiroko looks as graceful as a doe,
And dresses with the most exquisite taste.
She wraps herself in silken kimono,
Then ties an obi 'round her tiny waist.
Hiroko combs her long and straight black hair
Into a tall and shiny laquered mound.
She slips some pretty pins in front with care
And then with fragrant blossoms she is crowned.
Hiroko walks in shoes three inches tall
To keep her feet above the dirt and rocks.
When she goes home, she pauses in the hall,
Removes her shoes, and walks around in socks.
Hiroko has a house with paper walls,
And wooden floors, and futons rolled away.
Her home is peaceful when the evening falls,
Serenely cheerful in the light of day.
Hiroko offers tiny cups of tea
While kneeling by a table near the floor.
She pours and says her honored guests will be
Most welcome when they come inside her door.
Hiroko favors little bowls of rice,
With seaweed sheets and bits of salty fish.
The flicking of her chopsticks is precise-
She quickly empties out the china dish.
Hiroko has a pond of golden koi.
She calls them every morning, and they come.
They swim right to the edge and then enjoy
The food she gives them, eating every crumb.
Hiroko prays before a little shrine,
Remembering ancestors long since dead.
She burns a stick of incense as a sign
Her prayers are carried upward, overhead.
Hiroko places flowers in a vase,
Identifying Earth and Man and Sky.
Curved branches swirl around the simple base;
Their beauty pleases heart and mind and eye.
Hiroko folds bright paper into shapes
Like pretty boxes, fish, or elephants.
Her fingers fly until a bird escapes-
The origami charms her audience.
Hiroko sweetly plays a bamboo flute.
The music sounds mysterious and rare.
Some notes are low, and others more acute:
Harmonic echoes fill the quiet air.
Hiroko writes small verses called haiku
To tell about the lovely things she sees.
She writes about her garden, bright with dew,
And how the birds build nests high in the trees.;
Hiroko signs her name with brush and ink
On parchment, in tradition's ancient style.
She forms each character quick as a wink
And finishes her writing with a smile.
Hiroko loves to see the cherries bloom,
A pink and white parade to welcome spring.
Her home is scented with the sweet perfume,
A gentle presence touching everything.
Yen Cress
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16.
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Hiroshi
Hiroshi lives across the western sea
Beyond the sunset in an ancient land.
His country is Japan-'Nippon, ' says he-
And island nation we should understand.
Hiroshi lives above a busy street
In crowded Tokyo, in a neighborhood
Of stores, and parks where city people meet
To share the peace of fragrant sandalwood.
Hiroshi's home is small; he has no space
To keep a pet like dog or cat, but still
A cheerful, friendly voice warms up the place:
He keeps a birdcage on his windowsill.
Hiroshi has a cozy futon bed.
He spreads it on the wooden floor at night
And sleeps without a pillow for his head.
At dawn he rolls his futon out of sight.
Hiroshi likes hot miso soup to eat
Or fish and cabbage in a little bowl.
Sometimes Hiroshi likes a bit of meat,
But rice is what makes every dinner whole.
Hiroshi uses chopsticks in a pair,
And knows, as well, what fork and spoon are for.
He feels just fine relaxing in a chair
Or sitting on tatami on the floor.
Hiroshi wears a uniform to school
Like all the other boys, six days a week.
He studies hard, observing every rule;
He's quiet till his teacher bids him speak.
Hiroshi studies English every day.
When he gets home, he reads till late at night.
He practices each phrase he's learned to say,
Pronouncing l's and r's until they're right.
Hiroshi studies Japanese as well.
The words in columns tall dance down the page.
The crisscrossed characters a story tell
Like tiny actors on a paper stage.
Hiroshi listens to his favorite band
When walking with his iPod down the street.
He likes the music of his ancient land
As well as music with a modern beat.
Hiroshi rides his Honda motorbike
To visit friends who live not far away.
They play computer games or take a hike
Or, sometimes, sail a boat out in the bay.
Hiroshi sometimes goes to see a show,
A movie or a sumo wrestling bout,
Kabuki drama or, perhaps, a noh,
Or baseball game where he can cheer and shout.
Hiroshi shows his skill in many sports,
Like bowling, skiing, or the martial arts.
On warm days he goes to the tennis courts;
At night he likes a lively game of darts.
Hiroshi takes the speeding bullet train
To go to see Grandfather's distant grave.
He worships spirits of the trees and rain;
The Shinto priests teach how he should behave.
Hiroshi loves Mt. Fuji's snow-capped peak,
Majestic beauty touching puffy cloud,
Volcano sleeping, cool and still and sleek,
The 'emperor of Honshu, ' rich and proud.
Hiroshi wants to be a businessman
And fly to far-off cities everywhere.
America is also in his plan-
He wants to come, to see and learn and share.
Yen Cress
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