About

John Wisdom has been writing various forms of poetry since childhood. His grandmother received her Master’s in English, in about 1912, so writing was a given in his life. Here are a few samples of haiku, tanka, verse, and traditional poetry written over several decades. Many of the works have been recognized in contests, various haiku journals, such as Modern Haiku and The Heron’s Nest. There is no profit in poetry, so it is all about the joy of writing, and day to day life experiences.

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5 thoughts on “About

  1. What amazes me most is that within the body of your poetry (as presented in this blog) is so much of your personal story in occasional snippets between one line or another, yet it is not overwhelming. You have had a more difficult life than I have, but, I also have stories which have left deep scars from family members, divorce, and trauma (including culture shock and reverse culture shock). It makes me question why I do not add something of my past within my poetry, for I have only written about fishing with my grandfather or my dolls on a hill and such. My not meeting my father until I was 17 or my bending-over backwards antics to fit in another culture do not show in my work. Fay Aoyagi often writes with themes about living between two cultures but I have almost never done so.

    My personal favorites on this pages are so numerous, I chose these today, but will never forget the slow turn & moonlight swim.

    windless days
    never-so-alive
    overturned truck
    rainless days
    nightfall
    a dawn mist
    afternoon thrush
    sling shot
    listless hour . . .
    gathering dusk
    moonless night
    after the storm
    searing heat
    miles of graffiti
    wind-blown sky

    I admire your darker haiku, but am forever smitten by birds, dragonflies, waves and the sky.

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  2. John, your last entry was about 2 years ago… I don’t care – I’m following you anyway. Your writing is wonderful. Hope I will pick up more on the hit and miss of Twitter.

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      1. Then I am fortunate to have stumbled into your storage shed. I too started writing as a child… no doubt influenced by a kind English teacher (though probably not your grandmother). January 9th, was the twenty-third anniversary of my father’s death. Your poem about hearing of your father’s death and the kite; breathtaking. I could never quite articulate the feeling I had of rain and shingles blowing off the roof of my heart at the time… anyway… I ramble. Glad to have discovered your work today. No idea what Favestar is but perhaps I will go looking.

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