poetry

[justlikeyou]

Jan 15, 2017 5:01:43 GMT -5 glimmer said:

Fortune Bonsai

The house bonsai tree has been placed by my son onto the veranda railing. The coins from Hong Kong sit amongst the polished stones above the tree’s roots, placed for good fortune. The tree, not used to the rushing winds of Wellington at this height, stays so placed – for now.

cultivated so carefully
our fortunes
to the wind

Lovely haibun!

[justlikeyou]

T.S. Eliot's "East Coker" from "The Four Quartets" 

I.

In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur, and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,
Where you lean against a bank while a van passes,
And the deep lane insists on the direction
Into the village, in the electric heat
Hypnotized. In a warm haze the sultry light
Is absorbed, not reflected, by grey stone.
The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.

In that open field
If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close,
On a summer midnight, you can hear the music
Of the weak pipe and the little drum
And see them dancing around the bonfire
The association of man and woman
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie—
A dignified and commodiois sacrament.
Two and two, necessarye coniunction,
Holding eche other by the hand or the arm
Whiche betokeneth concorde. Round and round the fire
Leaping through the flames, or joined in circles,
Rustically solemn or in rustic laughter
Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes,
Earth feet, loam feet, lifted in country mirth
Mirth of those long since under earth
Nourishing the corn. Keeping time,
Keeping the rhythm in their dancing
As in their living in the living seasons
The time of the seasons and the constellations
The time of milking and the time of harvest
The time of the coupling of man and woman
And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling.
Eating and drinking. Dung and death.
Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for
heat and silence.
out at sea the dawn wind
wrinkles and slides.
I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

[glimmer]

Today is too hot for outside work. So I sit in in the shade. ‘heat and silence’ I read. The sea is lapping and children’s voices drift in. ‘out at sea the dawn wind’ I read, knowing no comparisons are to be made in the very calm not dawn moment of right here and now. ‘wrinkles and slides’ I read as gulls shriek and I drink beer.

why write from reading
with nothing to say
well, now

[glimmer]

we argue
ethics I say
one day
none of this
will exist
I say
close to anger
stirred up
is this gathering
so I have
done it again
to let go
of the person
who needs
to let go
that expression too
would not go
down well
meanwhile
who am I?

[lolly]

A Mysterious smile

Do you think this smile is my happiness
Or is it a mask for sadness?
Is it just saying, in that banal way,
"have a nice day"?
Can you look at me and know who I am?
Is my heart worn on my sleeve?
Or is this face a painted sham
Its emotion used to deceive?

How rare is the face real?
Often it's just what the world wants to see
What those lips conceal
When they smile as expected of me
How fearful it can be to really be known
It's safer to put on a happy face
But being unknown is being alone
Nothing is easy in either case

[lolly]

Is my face real?

[laughter]

Poetry is the ultimate embodiment of the notion of a voice speaking for itself, and in this is the answer to the "koan" of message/messenger.

Special thanks to CharlieGee for helping me end my war with the word, "God".

[explorer]

Well God is a tricky word, but here it is again in a poem of mine I wrote after an inter-faith afternoon of visits to a synagogue, a church, a mosque and a temple!


So many paths and ways to God: some where you pray and some where you chant,

So many rules and instructions: things you can do and things you can’t.


So many teachings and religious books, telling us how to pray:

You must wear a hat or a scarf, and these are the words you must say.


So many ways to be punished if you leave the narrow way,

With karma and demons and hell awaiting those who stray.


Is it really so difficult finding the god within?

Must we be so fixated on rules and on sin?


No. God is the ground of our being. He’s as near to us as our breath,

At the very heart of our nature, beyond even birth and death.


Let not our religions and paths keep us all apart,

When God lives every second in every person’s heart.

[laughter]

Jan 11, 2018 19:17:41 GMT -5 zin said:

the wind, captured, in a leaning moment of light
the water undulating, in places gently, in others an explosion of white
the rocks lie like lazy sentinels in the harbor that can't be bothered to dry themselves
the peeps look on from their windows
and the clouds embrace the Sun as it moves it all from on high
while boat guy glides on in joy, and it doesn't matter where he's going, or where he's been

[glimmer]

don’t forget the poetry
“I don’t read poetry”
“I don’t write poetry”
yet you ‘know’ poetry
your heart, in your heart
you know it, there

[laughter]

Mar 2, 2018 14:47:55 GMT -5 laughter said:

I remembered .. just out my back door
an ephemeral dusting of a frozen elixir
on an intricate tangle of dormant life
countless crystals rest
waiting for the sun to evaporate them
to either drip to the ground so as to quench
or get carried on the wind, to destinations yet unknown

[justlikeyou]

INUIT POETRY

Poem by Alootook Ipellie

I saw a picture today, in the pages of a book.
It spoke of many memories of when I was still a child:
Snow covered the ground,
And the rocky hills were cold and gray with frost.
The sun was shining from the west,
And the shadows were dark against the whiteness of the
hardened snow.

My body felt a chill
Looking at two Inuit boys playing with their sleigh,
For the fur of their hoods was frosted under their chins,
From their breathing.
In the distance, I could see at least three dog teams going away,
But I didn't know where they were going,
For it was only a photo.
I thought to myself that they were probably going hunting,
To where they would surely find some seals basking on the ice.
Seeing these things made me feel good inside,
And I was happy that I could still see the hidden beauty of the
land,
And know the feeling of silence.

[laughter]

not here not there nor anywhere yet all around and every sound
not seen or felt or understood yet all the light of every sight
a gentle breeze reveals it as it bears the scent of spring
a raindrop tells the endless tale, breaking on your skin
in the eyes of love you fly, though grounded you might feel
and in a blinding instant to yourself you might reveal

[laughter]

flits and flees and bees knees
it all comes out the same!
rowing a boat all gently down
is all in the name of the game
early morning as the air is still and moist and true
take that breath, know the earth, feel and taste the blues

[glimmer]

pink skies
shepard something
pink fleece