Poetry, anyone?

[Vajradhara]

A NIGHT OF SOLITUDE

In the still night by the vacant window,
wrapped in monk's robe I sit in meditation,
navel and nostrils lined up straight,
ears paired to the slope of shoulders.
Window whitens-- the moon comes up;
rain's stopped, but drops go on dripping.
Wonderful--the mood of this moment--
distant, vast, known to me only!

~Ryokan

[Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine]

Interesting. I'll reciprocate.

Keys

Oh, Master of the Keys

What is in your hand?

Looks like a skeleton key

Yet, a deadbolt

Have you locked the door to the past?

Or opened one to the future?

Oh, Master of the Keys

What is in your hand?

Is that the key

To me?

I composed this quite a few years ago while I was waiting for some work to do at an assembly job I had (kept it for only 6 months because I was paid piecework and I sat around many hours doing abso-freaking-lutely nothing.) It's a first or second draft and took me less than a half hour to compose (I was that bored.) I have another poem if anybody's interested (but, I must admit, I'm lousy at composing poetry.)

Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine

[The Fool]

Is the subject here personal poetry, or general appreciation of poetry?

Not much of my own, but I do have a great appreciation for some of the classic British poets - Keats, Milton, Coleridge, Byron (at least in part if not in whole).

[Vajradhara]

Namaste brian,

as it's the lounge area.... any poetry that you feel is moving for you, i would be happy to see... the same goes for anyone really... either your own or someone elses

i think that people's selection of poetry provides a certain insight into their character that i find hard to determine in other fashions

[faryal]

Assalamoalkikum,

I read this poem on the internet,and thought it was beatiful. so here it is:

Rosebud

It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of Allah's (God's) design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.

The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
ALLAH opens this flower so sweetly,
Then in my hands they die.

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of Allah's design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?

So I'll trust in Allah for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to Allah for His guidance
Each step of the way.

The pathway that lies before me,
Only Allah knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.

[Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine]

Another I wrote a while ago (second draft.)

A Perfect List For A Perfect Day (Or Longer)

No Murder

No Rape

No Violence

No Pain

No Suffering

No Discrimination

No Anger

No Fear

No Sadness

No Usury

No Taking Without Giving

No Retribution

No Mothers Crying

No Gunshots In the Night

No Wondering

Is This World

All For Naught

No War

No Starvation

No Children's Tears

No Trenches

No Fires

Set For No Reason

No Isolation

No Numbness

To the Pain Of Others

No Blaming

Others For

Our Own Foibles

No Hate

No Mistrust

No Distrust

No Wishing

Someone Else

Dead

No Coveting

Someone Else's

Property

No Stealing

No Forcing

Others

To Your Beliefs

No trashing

Another For

Something They Can't

Help

Is Anyone Interested?

Constructive comments greatfully accepted by author/composer.

Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine

[faryal]

Assalamoalikum, Phyllis

Nice poem, i esp liked the last line 'Is Anyone Interested?'

I wrote a poem, just wrote what was coming in my mind. anyway here it is:

The unsaid
Try to hear the unsaid,
In the silence of the stars.
Stop the tears from falling,
Tell the heart not to bleed.
Try to see the light,
Not the darkness that surrounds you.
Open your eyes, see the beauty,
Doesn't it make you wonder?
yet the mind is chained with shackles
Freedom is what it needs,
Faith is what it desire.
Then why are the chains so strong?
Why does it lack the power?
The effort to break the fetter of lies,
the strenght to enter the realm of bliss.
Are you blind to the obvious?
Or deaf to the calling of truth?
Why stop the peace to enter?
Yet,let the fire of hate in?
Comeback, please do
Forgiveness is right where you fell.

So how was it?

[Vajradhara]

Among a thousand clouds and ten thousand streams,
Here lives an idle man,
In the daytime wandering over green mountains
At night coming home to sleep by the cliff.
Swiftly the springs and autumns pass,
But my mind is at peace, free from dust or delusion
How pleasant to know I need nothing to lean on
To be still as the waters of the autumn river!

[Vajradhara]

If you are looking for a place to rest,
Cold Mountain is a good place to stay.
The breeze flowing through the dark pines
Sounds better the closer you come.
And under the trees a white-haired man
Mumbles over his Taoist texts.
Ten years now he hasn't gone home;
He has even forgotten the road he came by.

[Vajradhara]

Cold Mountain is a house
Without beams or walls.
The six doors left and right are open
The hall is blue sky.
The rooms all vacant and vague
The east wall beats on the west wall
At the center nothing.
Borrowers don't bother me
In the cold I build a little fire
When I'm hungry I boil up some greens.
I've got no use for the kulak
With his big barn and pasture --
He just sets up a prison for himself.
Once in he can't get out.
Think it over --
You know it might happen to you.



(a kulak is a minor landed noble)

[Vajradhara]

People ask about Cold Mountain Way;
There's no Cold Mountain Road that goes straight through:
By summer, lingering cold is not dispersed,
By fog, the risen sun is screened from view;
So how did one like me get onto it?
In our hearts, I'm not the same as you --
If in your heart you should become like me,
Then you can reach the center of it too.

[Kensho]

A fairly recent haiku I wrote, around the beginning of November, 2003.

Morning's reflection

Droplets alight; rest.
The sun burns off the day’s frost;
Delicate balance.

[Vajradhara]

to his Teacher:

An old grave hidden away at the foot of a deserted hill,
Overrun with rank weeks growing unchecked year after year;
There is no one left to tend the tomb,
And only an occasional woodcutter passes by.
Once I was his pupil, a youth with shaggy hair,
Learning deeply from him by the Narrow River.
One morning I set off on my solitary journey
And the years passed between us in silence.
Now I have returned to find him at rest here;
How can I honor his departed spirit?
I pour a dipper of pure water over his tombstone
And offer a silent prayer.
The sun suddenly disappears behind the hill
And I’m enveloped by the roar of the wind in the pines.
I try to pull myself away but cannot;
A flood of tears soaks my sleeves.

[Vajradhara]

Reflections from a Moon Mat




I sit in meditation posture in a china-berry room
your gentle breathing counts the mantras
ticking off the mala beads

A black and white cat mewls for attention
the click of claws upon the wooden floor
a cold nose pressed to my face

The moon shines bright through the window
as clouds drift across the sky
carrying my prayers to all beings

The stillness becomes quiet and my breath
seems to echo with emptiness
connoting something beyond conception

My knees ache and my ankles are sore
the cold is seeping into the room
a small blanket keeps me warm

Rising from my mat with creaking joints
i join you in a mound of covers and pillows
to sleep; warmed, content.

You stir in response to my presence
bringing coldness into your warmth
rolling over, leg draped over mine

I touch your face gently
fingers tracing the crease of your skin
soft sighs escape into the night

I smile a little smile
slide across the sheets to be closer to you
and drift off into forever

[faryal]

salam,
(read it on the net)

The Last Rainbow Warrior Is Dead

Bitter funerals in silence held
Twelve coffins laid to earth
To dust all human hope to wither
The last rainbow warriors is dead

Ours is the world of tragedy
Ours is the world of grief

For countless,
gray days of dismay
It's been snowing black ashes
upon these devastated lands
Dreadful are the storms
that grind these mountains to sand

Hear the voice of destruction
as it screams through our souls
With the vast storms it walks
Proud destruction in human form