Poet, Performer, Dancer, Storyteller, Yogini
Personal interview with the artist, writer, dancer, Genie Nakano
Spillwords.com presents: Spotlight On Writers – Genie Nakano, for whom writing tanka is her passion, joy, therapy and confession.
Source: Spotlight On Writers – Genie Nakano, interview at Spillwords.com
A magic realism story for everyone who believes in magic.
Spillwords.com presents: Best Friends, a short story written by Genie Nakano – I was born in Boyle Heights, CA…known as the barrios of East L.A.
Source: Best Friends written by Genie Nakano at Spillwords.com
"Best Friends", is a "magic realism" story I wrote after my dog Charlie died of lung cancer. My best friends dog died of cancer shortly after Charlie. Charlie the cocker spaniel, is the main character of the story. He is a philosopher and Shelby the red dog is his best friend. Originally posted on Spillwords.Com. Thank you Spillwords for supplying the image. It looks just like my dog Charlie. Please click the source and it will take you to Best Friends. I have 50 other posts on Spillwords. It's a good place for poets to post. They promote your work all over the world.
forgiven and feeling fine.
In the sauna
purging last night’s sins
as the sweat
rolls down my breasts
forgiven and feeling fine
Originally published in Spillword.com and Ribbons a tanka journal
make my dreams come true
written by: Genie Nakano
@genieyogini
magic butterfly
a flower in the sky
as I nap
come alight on me
make my dreams come true
originally published in "Storyteller" and Spillwords.com
Uncle George ,Sugie, 2-8-1892 , 1965 ,Sugie & Yaemon,3-8-1880,Uncle Jay, 1918-1960
my grandmother died at 73
the age that I am now
her thin grey hair was tied back in a bun
was she ever young?
coming from a foreign land
her songs were of an old Japan
coming to America
a picture bride
"fresh off the boat"
a timely phrase
did she ever love?
Grandpa and Grandma
everyday
bickering mumbled sounds
long ago
my mother remembers
"when papa drank sake"
fights were brutal and bloody
now with age just words
how do you get out
of this slave trade world
your children are the keys
work and save
work and slave
send your sons
to be a doctor
but Uncle George died at 22
Uncle Jay died at 42
a doctor whose dream
to be an artist
was it suicide
Grandmas' dreams flew by
only English was my mistake
back then when--
Japs were defeated in war
I only wanted to be American
NO, "I don't speak Japanese"
and Grandma don't speaku Enguirish
so we are pigeons in the dark
we never touched
I'm not sure why
did we ever play
Bill Wither Sings
"grandmas, hands played a tambourine so well"
my Grandma never did
I tried to understand
but it's been so long ago
Grandma
picking strawberries
cracked hands
filled with fresh hopes
scorched from the sun
Note:
Bachan means grandmother in Japanese. I don't like to be called Bachan and Grandma because I don't feel like a grandma and when I digged deeper I remembered my own Bachan. Her story was so sad. She was creative, a great cook but her life was tragic. I suppose that may be a reason why I don't want to be Bachan--call me Auntie. Aloha Auntie.
I spoke pigeon English to Grandma--so speaku Engurish means speak English.
Invitation to Peace early morning these days no T.V. no radio prone to quietness I meditate everyday the same way like sitting on a rabbit's foot I feel safe and lucky bound by our desires I watch the incense rise busy busy busy thoughts busy buzzing clear the space toss them out watch them fly before they fall catch moments Genie Nakano, June 25, 2020 revised July 17, 2022
These are tanka that come to me as I meditate. I have aligned them into a tanka series.
rocks in a tumbler i have settled with time polishing the gems Genie Nakano (originally published in Ribbons and Spillwords)
This poem is written by my poet friend Selma Benjamin. She is 101 years old. She has been through the holocaust. She is gentle, kind, and very wise. Here is one out of her hundreds of poems that she has given me permission to print. Here goes:
2020 BLUES
Crazy plague from unknown source
Makes us turn lives upside down
Racism can no more be dismissed
Protesters up against police power
Pedestrians instead of cars on freeways
Looters exploit the situation
Fires, sticks and guns appear
Everyone is suddenly a criminal
Loneliness is multiplied a hundred times
Black and white replace nature’s colors
Boredom greys sunny days
Email takes beauty out of language
Zoom depersonalizes schools and meetings
Phone exhausts voice and feeling
Human beings are very sick
Scientists please find vaccines and cures
SB June 1
Selma Benjamin
this is my hood
where concrete meets the sky
neon lights twinkle
humanity in your face
born here, loved here, die here
in the Japanese American Hospital, May 15, 1948. Racists in America often refused to care or treat Japanese Americans, so we built our own hospital in Boyle Heights on a hill. I don't remember being born but when I went back as a teen, I remember the sweet care I received. I'll never forget it.
I spent the next 8 years living in projects, Aliso Village, Ramona Village in East Los Angeles then on to two different Long Beach Navy projects.
I feel sorry for anyone who didn't get to live in the projects. It was a lot of fun. There were always kids to play with. The one on Williams street had swings, jungle bars and enough room for hopscotch and marbles on the grass.
IF
I don't write
my life down
none of it
makes sense
Originally published in Ribbons an American tanka Journal.
Genie Nakano