Shojoji – a fairytale poem - 1. Shojoji

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證誠寺

– Shojoji –

a fairytale poem

 

 

 

by

AC Benus

 

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Now a Tanuki is a clever one –

A badger you might say with a difference –

One who’d trip his cousin up for some fun,

But standing accused, seem pure innocence.

 

The jolly way they went about living

Cause seldom a problem, except near man,

Who worked too hard to believe in anything;

Never finding time for life in his plan.

 

And so, Tanuki played and man would work,

With neither wanting to be the other,

Yet both the contrary could often irk

‘Cause their ways made no sense to one another.

 

By a river with trees for a backdrop,

A little shrine complex was cared for by

An old priest and his pupil who’d clip-clop

On the sloped rooftiles to mend the rain dry.

 

Shojoji was never a great temple;

Though not grand in size, it always had love

From the kindly priest who thought it ample

Home for this world and route to the above.

 

But one day a very sad thing happened.

The old, happy, gentle man slipped and fell

And in the garden, a new world opened,

Welcoming his soul with sweet daphnes’ smell.

 

His student cried his way, but spoke the prayer

He knew to say for those dead of body,

And Shojoji’s smiling garden is where

His ashes and stone find posterity.

 

But the boy then had to journey across

Rivers and plains to the sect’s main temple

To tell them the news of their brother’s loss

And the lonely state of the shrine semple.

 

Now, when the Tanuki heard no more chants,

They assumed the garden was theirs for play.

They nibbled the pansies, frolicked through plants,

And snoozed in the sun of a perfect day.

 

When night came around, up they went to ‘work,’

Setting about their romping in earnest;

Beneath the gilding stars they went berserk,

Gleaming eyes to those celestial ones best.

 

A new abbot came with his own novice

To the riverplain where the temple ‘twas,

Each needing to take a doubletake twice –

In such bad condition, the whole site was.

 

So transformed was the little Shojoji,

By the Tanuki fun and lowland rain,

That the new-come priest could easily see

No one who stayed, would very long remain.

 

That night the Tanuki awoke hearing

The spooky Groan-Moan, Moan-Groan, Groan-Moan groans

Coming from the once-abandoned building,

Where chanted the new priests in undertones.

 

All the rowdy badgers were overjoyed

To hear another challenge had moved in,

Loving unsettled men to be annoyed

Any way they could put them in a spin.

 

So the Tanuki leader sent the word,

Far and wide, there would be a conference

On how Tanuki souls could, undeterred,

Think of ways to shift the human nuisance.

 

The leader’s tummy presided nobly.

Round in finish, it made a great loud thump;

When he pounded it so clear and boldly,

Each present wished his tummy that Ka-Plump.

 

“Now, what are we going to do?!” he asked,

Every twinkling badger eye upon him.

“We can grunt under the floorboard!” he tasked,

“Living ‘mongst so many ghosts should scare ‘em!”

 

The meeting continued in the same way,

Each proposing a bothersome idea

To drive the unsuspecting men away.

At last, the leader chose a panacea:

 

“Ponta and Ponko, we’ll go with your plan.

Hurry up and change into your new forms.”

And with that, around and around they span

Into whirls of badger features like storms.

 

As talented Tanuki are known to do,

These two could twirl off their regular state

And assume forms that were completely new,

Ones which to their real lives did not relate.

 

Ponta, he whirled up to be a Cyclop;

Ponko, she grew tall to look a Lady.

The leader said, “Now be off, and eavesdrop.”

His whiskers twitched at their plan so shady.

 

From Shojoji came the Groan-Moan, Moan-Groan

Led by the diligent and loud abbot.

Ponta and Ponko peeked in all alone

To see the boy and his master at it.

 

“You go first,” Ponko said. “Tap his shoulder,

Then when he turns around, give him a cough.”

The two cleverlings never felt bolder

As Ponta blinking one big eye, trotted off.

 

He sneaked up behind the yet-babbling guest.

Tap, tap. “Rumble-Grumble” the priest still said,

Turning his head to see what was the pest;

“…rum…grum…?” His eyes grew huge as Ponta fled.

 

The white-haired man clacked his beads together;

Sitting there, his hand rubbed his eyes over,

But lips still put word and word together,

Pondering the apparition over.

 

When he finished his prayers, he tapped the bell,

And waiting, Ponko knew it her signal.

With tray in hand she glided like a gazelle,

Squeaking “Tea, master?” as polite as a gull.

 

“Why yes, my dear,” said the man gratefully,

Glad his thirst to wet on the jade-some liquid.

Ponko sat down and poured the tea humbly,

Her three-foot long neck wiggling like a squid.

 

“Ahhhhh!” the two men screeched, stumbling for the door,

Then trekked across garden and plain beyond,

One back-glance not followed by any more

For a place they were not overly fond.

 

The Tanuki in the tree line chuckled,

Leaping down with glowing exuberance;

Then laughed so hard, their bellies buckled.

When paws found tummies, they started to dance.

 

Thwack, Whack, Pitty-Pone Smack –

Each drummer could use his own

Drum built in snug below breastbone.

 

Sounds so profound, with knack,

Time's own beat they seemed renowned

To bring within their bellies' bound.

 

“’Bout loony badgers, I’m not gonna fretter,”

Said he who next made his way to Shojoji,

But the local Tanuki knew better,

As Ponta and Ponko could guarantee.

 

They sneaked up in their ghoulish disguise,

While the leader and gang waited for them,

But when they came back, they both had the cries.

Ponta relayed the sad story to ‘em.

 

“When he saw me as a Cyclopes, he pinched

My lil twitchin’ nose and wouldn’t let go!

And when Ponko wobbled her neck, he grinched

And whipped it up into a knot, like so.”

 

Now if there is one thing Tanuki hate,

It’s to hear of man’s senseless violence.

So the leader got an idea to bait

The priest into learning some tolerance.

 

That night, when they heard the brute a-snoring,

They gathered in the garden, ‘neath a star,

And on signal, thumped their bellies a-roaring!

A-Ka-Plunka-Plunka rang out wide and far.

 

The startled meanie priest ran to the doors.

“Hey, no playing in the garden!” he’d yell,

While chasing ‘round the creatures he abhors.

He looked a giant fool, until he fell.

 

He couldn’t for the life of him catch them –

Tanuki are much too clever and fast –

And tripped on a rock hidden ‘neath some stem,

His head bouncing off a stone lantern’s mast.

    

He awoke blinking twice as many stars

As were giggling at him way up in the sky.

He stumbled back to the temple step bars

And sat there, rubbing his welt by and by.

 

The next morning, he cursed his fate and left,

Not one wit wiser than he was before;

Some will a lesson just never heft

If it instructs by making them sore.

 

Soon a new man had set up housekeeping,

But when he first spotted the temple wild –

Tiles falling like rain, big doors squeaking –

He set down his own shabby bag and smiled.

 

That night, Ponta tripped up behind the priest,

Preparing his usual tap and run

And not having a concern in the least

That ‘ghouling’ him wasn’t going to be fun.

 

Tap. Tap. The priest turned. ‘Oh, my God!” he said.

“What a cuuute Cyclopes…” Ponta had to hear,

Eye a-blink as he was patted on the head.

“Now run and play.” Then got scooted on his rear.

 

“But wait!” the priest called after the monster.

Ponta, still in a daze, came wandering back.

“Here, take this dumpling, you little cutester.”

And after getting his cheek pinched, went slack.

 

He met Ponko as she was coming in.

He said, holding the dumpling all wan,

“He’s tricky. Better watch as you begin,

And in the end, be sure to thank the man.”

 

Ponko bewildered, went in with her tray,

But when the shabby priest saw the neck on her,

He laughed, applauded, took the kettle away.

“That’s greaaat…” He poured her a cup with a purr.

 

The leader was shocked, but knew what to do.

That night they all gathered in the garden,

Thumping their tummies as hard as they knew;

Ka-Plop, Ka-Plunking again and again.

 

How surprised the man was, rubbing an eyeball,

To see a huge circle of Tanuki,

In unison, their paws on bellies fall –

Banging badgers as far as he could see.

 

When left paw came down to whack out a Pown,

Right paw at the same time would fly upward.

Like mechanical men: one up, one down;

They had dynamics like he’d never heard.

 

He blinked a few times and quietly snuck

Out the door, down the steps, up behind them,

And if you haven’t seen a badger dumbstruck,

You should have seen when his plunk caused mayhem.

 

The leader’s tummy Thump-Ump, Thump-Ump rung,

But when the half-naked man hit his gut

Only a feeble ka-plink, ka-plink sprung.

Their shock turned to giggling at the nut.

 

When the priest realized why they were laughing,

He resolved to apply himself harder.

“This is so much fun!” he exclaimed chortling,

Working fast to get his Thump thumping better.

 

They had never seen a man like this one –

One this committed to trying his best.

So happy just to be having some fun,

His good nature blent in with all the rest.

 

The Tanuki leader warned him with glee,

“Be more careful with this, your first time out.

Your stomach might explode, then where’d you be?”

His chastisement was gentle on the big lout.

 

Well, before they knew it, the priest staggered –

He was filled with exhaustion to the brim –

And panted on the ground looking haggard

While the concerned badgers gathered ‘round him.

 

“See, I told him like that,” the leader said.

“Better get him in now, as the frost’s come.”

And so the Tanukis put him to bed

In the very place they meant to drive him from.

 

The next morning, the priest wondered just how

He’d gotten to bed and scratched his head, stumped.

“I can’t think about such foolishness now.

What’s important is to improve how I’ve thumped.”

 

All day long the shabby man persevered,

Teaching himself it’s not how hard he hit

That made one tone loud and then disappear,

But technique had to work smoothly to fit.

 

That night, a full moon shone up in the sky

When again the Tanuki gathered ‘round

Shojoji’s garden to see how the stars did spy

On two score badgers and one man their tummies pound.

 

Thwack, Whack, Pitty-Pone Smack –

Each drummer could use his own

Drum built in snug below breastbone.

 

Sounds so profound, with knack,

Time's own beat they seemed renowned

To bring within their bellies' bound.

 

Dancing with grace, the paws

Would lift starward, and then trace

An arc back to their stomach bass.

 

Happy whoops met good cause

When thumping turned minuet

And freed concerns from the mindset.

 

Such fun the shabby priest had never had

And was good, as his practice could attest.

But the thought he’d be outdone made him mad,

So the leader dared him to a contest.

 

He slapped Ka-Plonk-a-Plonk left and right,

Not even noticing a growing welt;

He pounded is belly well below sight

And paid no attention to how it felt.

 

But then a horrible thing happened:

The leader’s great blister burst with a pop!

The priest flew and came back quick to his friend

With salve from Shojoji’s medicine shop.

 

“How is it now?” The kind man dabbed it in.

“Thank you much, but I am all better now.”

Then the leader, he tried to re-begin,

But his wham produced nothing but an “Ow!”

 

“No thumping for a while,” the priest advised,

“Waiting a whole month would not be too soon….”

And then it was that they both realized

They should gather to drum every full moon.

 

And even today, there are those who’ll say,

When the night is brightest, the garden’s stuffed

Before Shojoji with Tanuki at play,

And music comes from their bellies so puffed.

 

Thwack, Whack, Pitty-Pone Smack –

Each drummer could use his own

Drum built in below breastbone.

 

Sounds so profound, with knack,

Time's own beat they seemed renowned

To bring within their bellies' bound.

 

Dancing with grace, the paws

Would lift starward, and then trace

An arc back to their stomach bass.

 

Happy whoops met good cause

When thumping turned to minuet

And freed concerns from the mindset.

 

Who in living hasn't failed

To envy a freer spirit,

To wonder just what's entailed

In changing a life that's unfit.

 

Who hasn't ever wanted

To forget pressing confinements

And run away from the needed

To find a new set of commitments.

 

Thwack, Whack, Pitty-Pone Smack –

Each drummer can use his own

Drum built in snug below breastbone.

 

Reaching 'round, that cunning sound,

Welcomes all who be around

To join in the pleasure they've found.

 

 

 

 

                    

~

 

 

 

 

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