Yoshiko Amemiya

Apr 26, 2026

He asked me, “How do you know the weeds and flowers have no soul?”

I told him, “The soul of the weeds and flowers is the same as ours. Stay where you are, don’t rush away.”

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

Do you believe a wildflower has a soul?

☘️A Pink Bud of Sunlight. I Call You... The What What?

Dew teases, wind sulks, why are you still so calm?

Stunningly graceful, the dawn is envious of you.

Just stay demure! I’ll go to find the pink bud of sunlight for you.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts mean a lot to me.

What do you wish for today? I wish I had the power of an eraser that could erase memories.

I enjoy the bitterness of dark chocolate as much as the sweetness of ice cream. Why is that? Because I am used to experiencing bitterness in life, I crave sweetness.

Moving forward, I remind myself not to look back, as thinking about the past causes me back pain.

Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Mar 9, 2026

I replied, “Well, it’s like a peacock with congenital airplane wing syndrome that can’t fold its wings. It attaches a ukulele to its back, but the strings snap.”

Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Feb 7, 2026

The clouds embraced the wind.

The sun held an umbrella.

A skylark nodded,

flew back and forth,

then perched on the young woman’s shoulder.

Eyes half-closed,

she caressed her salt-and-pepper hair.

Two years have passed,

she no longer dreams.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Jan 29, 2026

Yoshiko Amemiya

Jan 15, 2026

Âme mienne, plaintive.

Palais de douleur, qu’importe ?

Le pipa a perdu une corde.

Le fil des sentiments s’est rompu, lui aussi.

Un mélancolique chant d’adieu.

La silhouette du voyageur s’est effacée.

La barque du cœur a erré vers un nouveau rivage.

Les fleurs fanées fleuriront dans la rue de l’hiver.

Merci de votre lecture.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Le 6 janvier 2026

Plaintive own soul.

The palace of sorrow, who cares?

The pipa has lost a string.

The thread of sentiment snapped, too.

A mournful farewell song.

The traveler’s figure faded away.

The heart’s boat wandered to a new shore.

Withered flowers will bloom in the street of winter.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

January 6, 2026

Thank you for reading.

Welcome to my open bookshelf

Bienvenue dans ma bibliothèque ouverte

yamemiya.substack.com

***

White and black clouds drifted astray down to the Clay village. They met the Clay Maiden, who offered them shelter until the moon’s season ended.

The Clay is steeped in melancholy, for the white and black clouds have transformed into two parallel lines.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Oct 7, 2025

Since the day the snake left, the sheep has fallen into the well. It has been unable to come up.

Each day, it still gazes at that hand. It sits counting, counting each night, yet in vain. The snake will never return.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

Oct 3, 2025

The fragrant scent of smoke from someone’s charcoal stove wafts into the air,

forming a bright blue with vibrant curves.

The butterfly sniffs and tastes the strange smoke.

With eyes half-closed for a moment,

it looks up at the sun spreading its golden wings.

Then, the butterfly remains still and motionless.

Somehow, it is uninterested in searching for the jasmine pistil today.

Thank you for reading.

‘‘I am like a stone that knows pain.’’

I’m not sick of creative work, but of these AI editors.

The most frustrating thing is the “Pro…” app—it’s called “Pro,” but it’s dumb. I wonder if other writers and journalists have been nitpicked by it like me? After editing one part, it says it’s perfect, but that perfection affects another part, and that other part needs fixing. It’s like crooked teeth. Fixing it over and over again… ugh…

It warns about Unusual Dialogue Tags 50%; it says to add “said” and “asked,” but when I add them, it throws another Dialogue Tags 50% error…

“Stick to ‘said’ and ‘asked’ instead of other dialogue tags.” Haha. Kill me.

What’s going on? So, what now? Sorry, my IQ is too low for you, dear “Pro...”

It encouraged: “Hey, authors, you should publish if you score above 80 points!”

Okay, I passed that threshold. But the final step was the most frustrating.

When I put it into apps like Zero GPT, GPTZero, Scribbr, and Turnitin… to check the AI ​​detector, they would nitpick.

It warned, “Hey, the sentences I underlined in yellow in your story were likely written by AI.”

Oh no, I’m doomed. How frustrating. “That’s 100% my writing!” I thought to myself.

If any sentence was flagged as AI, I had to rewrite it and rewriting it naturally required using an editor again.

That’s it. Who knows when it will end?

The results varied from app to app: 6% AI, 10% AI, and some even 15-20%. On a really lucky day, they’d declare it 90-100% HUMAN. Even less fortunate would be 70-80% HUMAN, depending on how crazy they are.

“Oh, how strange, these apps are so rubbish.”

And so, articles and short stories were put into hibernation. I’m not bothered to fix it anymore.

Many times, after writing an article, I wanted to call my mentor and ask, “Master, why does the AI ​​detector app report that 10-20% of my writing is AI-written, even though I wrote it 100%?”

But unfortunately, my mentor has gone to the high mountains to meditate. Now, the only masters left are the software AIs that catch the errors. Sounds ridiculous, right?

So, my motto is, “I must believe in myself; don’t rely too much on tools. They are not a compass.”

Because machines are inherently imperfect, let alone humans.

So, any literary work or short story that’s distorted, ugly, or a bit off-key—that means it’s truly mine.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

December 28, 2025

***

The train accelerates

while the bronchi spin.

The bronchi continue to breathe,

striving to break free from the train.

The clouds become agitated.

A bolt of lightning hits unexpectedly.

The red flamboyant

shifts to a bluish-gray hue.

Thank you for reading.

repay?

***

Dust Dissolves in Rain — Saturday Afternoon Refrain

The rain sings, the wind calls, I'm still here.
A moment of leisure to wash away life’s chaos.
A wild orchid for those I have affection for.

Thank you for reading.