ARTS: Poetry

[Tai Shi]

This is the poetry of pictures from my wife's beautiful flowers at the front porch last summer.
Tai Shi
sat lah
Gassho https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20191209/430eee26838df03a509959b761e2bb16.jpg

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[Hensho]

Treeleaf Rohatsu, 2019

My wife's flowers from the front
Porch last summer linger
Like pink and green imprints
In my tired mind, reminding
Me of everything I promised.

A life together in a grass hut.
Moments of joy or did I say
Hope. Was it enough? Did
I warn her about the weeds?
She was no fool and married

Me anyway. We managed. We
Came together. She, the timeless
Constant being holding it all,
fashioning my fumblings
Into this life. This life. This hut,

Like that jar in Tennessee, contains
A thousand doors. A thousand
Tiny buddhas spring from her
Tears, showering me
With pink and green petals.

Gassho,
Kate

Sat today/lah

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[Byokan]

Beautiful! gassho1

Gassho
Byōkan
sat + lah

[Hensho]

Thank you. I think I inadvertently received poetry transmission from Tai Shi.

Gassho,
Kate

Sat.lah

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[Tai Shi]

Beauty in A Little Poetry.
Taishi
sat
Beautiful Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

I intend to Collect all the poems in all the threads where I have written, that is the poems I have written and I will then publish them in my book PORTRAITS OF THEIR LIVES, along with such poems as I see fit in my own Word and Open Office files. The book will be dedicated to all my significant teachers from Bill Hotchkiss to Jundo Cohen (I would ask his permission to use his Dharma name or any name Jundo Cohen decides upon, as I too will use my Dharma name). So be it. I will also indicate my pen name Charles E Taylor. All money associated with by me, and with money I begin saving next month will be used to finance this project. The project may last up to three years as did my first book Winter from Spring; this, and the second book, Meditations on Gratitude will not be included. My book will be published by The Book Patch where I already have an account. I will edit and pick and chose as I see fit and any Dharma friend in this Zendo may comment once the poems have been collected, and full credit will be given to this Treeleaf Zendo, and therefor, the three homes I have now; My Dear Marjorie and Me, AA as called only 12 step program, and Treeleaf Zendo by name as Jundo sees fit will be mentioned. I open this proposal to Forum Comment. While I wait for Treeleaf comment, I ask that you appraise this Prospectus and any or all of my poems on the Treeleaf Forum. I WILL IN NO WAY COLLECT OR USE OTHERS' POEMS OR ANY WRITING IN ANY WAY ON THIS FORUM or anywhere, living, out of this our sphere, or in some way connected with Treeleaf. I hold sole copyright to my own poetry and such writing to be acceptable by Jundo Cohen so as not to break anonymity of anyone or indicate people except my own family, but no places breaking anyone's anonymity unless they give permission. The place I I call home are mine with my family mentioned. Marjorie, my father and my daughter already have dedications. Tai Shi (Charles E Taylor).

[Onka]

Hi Tai Shi
I have shared at least one, maybe two poems on the Haiku page.
I would prefer that they not be published in your book anonymously or otherwise.
Thank you comrade.
Gassho
Anna
stlah

[Kokuu]

Oh, that is lovely to make a new collection, Tai Shi!

Enjoy the process of bringing your work together!

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Hoseki]

I intend to Collect all the poems in all the threads where I have written, that is the poems I have written and I will then publish them in my book PORTRAITS OF THEIR LIVES, along with such poems as I see fit in my own Word and Open Office files. The book will be dedicated to all my significant teachers from Bill Hotchkiss to Jundo Cohen (I would ask his permission to use his Dharma name or any name Jundo Cohen decides upon, as I too will use my Dharma name). So be it. I will also indicate my pen name Charles E Taylor. All money associated with by me, and with money I begin saving next month will be used to finance this project. The project may last up to three years as did my first book Winter from Spring; this, and the second book, Meditations on Gratitude will not be included. My book will be published by The Book Patch where I already have an account. I will edit and pick and chose as I see fit and any Dharma friend in this Zendo may comment once the poems have been collected, and full credit will be given to this Treeleaf Zendo, and therefor, the three homes I have now; My Dear Marjorie and Me, AA as called only 12 step program, and Treeleaf Zendo by name as Jundo sees fit will be mentioned. I open this proposal to Forum Comment. While I wait for Treeleaf comment, I ask that you appraise this Prospectus and any or all of my poems on the Treeleaf Forum. I WILL IN NO WAY COLLECT OR USE OTHERS' POEMS OR ANY WRITING IN ANY WAY ON THIS FORUM or anywhere, living, out of this our sphere, or in some way connected with Treeleaf. I hold sole copyright to my own poetry and such writing to be acceptable by Jundo Cohen so as not to break anonymity of anyone or indicate people except my own family, but no places breaking anyone's anonymity unless they give permission. The place I I call home are mine with my family mentioned. Marjorie, my father and my daughter already have dedications. Tai Shi (Charles E Taylor).

Neat!

Gassho
Hoseki
Sattoday

[Tai Shi]

Kate, I overlooked your beautiful poem, which, of course, I will not include in Portraits of Their Lives by Charles E Taylor, Tai Shi, Calm Poetry. Your poetry is stunning, sensitive, and heartfelt. Perhaps, or perhaps not? It would be nice for you to share more, and you, as with all poets/authors of fiction, poetry, prose, drama, and or essay and all personal writing belong only to the author, and as per International Copyright Law, the author simply by stating their name owns their work, and has sole responsibility for that work. In at least one place in these threads on Treeleaf Zendo, I request that written work follow guidelines of good taste, without defaming, or condemning another person, etc. That includes good taste in language. Kate. I too have read Wallace Stevens.
Tai Shi
Charles E Taylor
Calm Poetry
sat/lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Any member may add suggestions in this thread about legalities, exceptions, language, stipulations of law, substitutions, ownership of original writing, matters of good taste, concerns about Buddhism, or any religion, credit and/ or all creative guidelines in this thread. This is governed by our teacher Jundo Cohen, Roshi, and any priest, priest-in-training, member, or Lay member may comment here. You may add creative work of your own, perhaps in one of the other threads unless you wish to post here. unless the threads allow one to share one or just some excerpts/ and or poetry giving full credit to author/poet/ writer. It is suggested that these creative threads are primarily for members' writing, and all creative essay/ poetry/ fiction/ drama by the author is encouraged. Those who have started other threads may wish to create their own guidelines or consult with Jundo. Anyone, anywhere on this Treeleaf Zendo may comment here, and add creative work to this and or all creative threads unless so stipulated by the guidelines of that thread. Write away!!! Have fun, enjoy.

Tai Shi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Hensho]

Ah, Tai Shi

I am so happy to know that you will be collecting your work for another book. Such an important endeavor that I await eagerly. Perhaps it will not take three years, but no matter. I'm inspired by your project.

A little secret ( that will be out now forever.) I went to graduate school to become a fiction writer. I wrote some poetry then, too. But I was so shy about my work that I never published a single piece. It was not until I read your work on this forum that I suddenly felt inspired again, began writing again and sharing it with others, my friends here at Treeleaf. Your dedication to Jundo Cohen, therefore, is deeply moving since I myself understand the impact this wonderful Zendo can have on creativity.

I look forward to hearing more about your project. And thank you for catching my allusion to Wallace Stevens. I'm sure he was a Buddhist without knowing it.

Gassho,
Kate / Hensho

Sat today

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[Tai Shi]

Dear, dear Kate, it is not often that one encounters outside books the kindred spirit of another writer. I sense this in you, by your poem, by your compliment to me, by our shared knowledge of a great poet, a man who kept his work hidden from his colleagues for fear they would not understand. Dear Kate, an audience of two who understand, that is enough, for please remember Miss Emily, "I am a poet, are you a poet, too. Don't tell...they'd advertise you know..." Be not concerned, for no one here will "croak your name, the live long day, to an admiring bog." Your words like me are petals in the rose we pick in memory of our sister poet dear Sylvia. Kate, we have risen above such agony with words, with gentle keystrokes of our lives. Do share...
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Hensho]

Ah, Tai Shi

Today I sit with you and Wallace and Emily and Sylvia and Elizabeth and Walt and TS and Robert and Rita and Nikki and all the others. Today I sit in the center of the poem that we write together for everyone. For gratitude. For friendship. And the hope that stillness brings.

Gassho,

Kate / Hensho
Sat

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[Tai Shi]

For Patty Brown

Long, impossible
Spring days smart,
Days when other
Children pushed Patty
Brown, with words
Because her red
Hair, freckled skin,
Like me anomaly
Fifth grade Mckee
Elementary, parents
Divorced mother
Lovingly gave girl lovingly
New Brownie Camera
My hands into fists,
Words to hurt.
Poets never alone,
Pushed her
Rested in hands
Like my mom's
Old Brownie camera
Hers new, mom's
Broken when I
Pushed her
Against hate
Memory boy
So fragile, Children
Mob jered
Were Different.
They could see
Emptiness form,
Form emptiness,
Both so alone.

Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Kokuu]

after reviewing Gary Snyder's famous book The Back Country, I have concluded this four part collection, ground breaking book about Zen Revelation, is not about sitting. truly, it is not about Zen at all. This book is about Gary Snyder.

Do you think you can write poetry without including parts of yourself?

I have not read The Back Country and am curious to take a look now as I love much of Gary Snyder's work.

Gasho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Kokuu]

Thank you for your elaboration, Tai Shi!

I think it could be said of Jack Kerouac also that his book The Dharma Bums was filled with just as much (if not more) being a bum than it does the dharma!

The Back Country was published in 1967 and Snyder had been in Japan on and off since 1955, when he formally requested to become the student of Rinzai teacher Miura Isshu at Shokoku-ji in Kyoto and sat several sesshin. So his understanding of the precepts should have been pretty well established by then as he took Jukai and was given the dharma name Chofu, "Listen to the Wind". But The Back Country contains poems stretching back many years so I guess not all will be Zen influenced.

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Onka]

Respectfully may I ask why this thread, as entertaining as it is is in this section of the forums?
Gassho
Onka
st

[Jundo]

Respectfully may I ask why this thread, as entertaining as it is is in this section of the forums?
Gassho
Onka
st

I have moved you'all to the funky art section. :cool:

Gassho, J

STLah

[Tai Shi]

Onka, Jundo, I respectfully agree; this thread IS about Poetry, and posting of Poetry!! About people who might not have a voice anywhere else even on this forum. I am going to delete my posts, which I thought might be interesting, and offer an apology to the people I care about most-- Folks who might not post anywhere else, and I ask Kokuu, who is like me in so many ways, who I care about deeply, to do the same. It's also about sitting, and talking about sitting which is what we are about in this our Sagha where we would not have a place anywhere else, where Jundo has made a home for us, where (most people) folks are welcome who say they can learn a different way, in poetry, or anything to become a part of something bigger than than themselves, a place where they can sit, and learn compassion even in and especially in all walks of life.
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Thank you dear Kate, dear And Anna, dear Onka, and my friend Kokuu, and everyone who loves Buddhist poetry of all types, for everyone in our Sangha who makes poetry of sensitivity, of beauty, and of Shikantaza. Kokuu, do look elsewhere for a beautiful revision about you my friend, a truly heartfelt poem about our beauty as friends. Way, Way too much from me, If you can, think of some of these posts combined from me together, and my love of our Treeleaf Zendo.
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Hi Kokuu and all; I find it most beautiful that Gary Snyder was given the name "Listen to the Wind" most beautiful for Gary Snyder's Dharma, and so beautiful that he was able to ""Listen to the Wind"" MOST beautiful as he spoke at a reading in Colorado while I was actually working on my thesis Autumn Inventories. I met him briefly as he walked out of the auditorium at U.N.C. and he knew my mentor, Dr Bill Hotchkiss, from Sierra College in Rocklin, California, the college where my father worked for 24 yeas as tenured faculty, and where I began my study of English Literature. Our meeting was about 30 seconds, and there is no reason he might remember me. May I suggest another Gary Snyder volume you might not own, and which I purchased in Denver about the time I graduated with my MFA, 1990, Left Out in the Rain, those poems as yet at that time randomly brought together and very good of course. I am certain that you, if you do not have this book, would enjoy it. I did go on after Sierra to finish my BA at Grinnell College, MA and EDS degrees at the University of Iowa, then taught composition, literature and creative writing at Central Community College; there I published my first poetry, and in 1985 left with Marjorie who continued her career with the government. I entered the MFA in 1986, and lost my TA in 1987 at which time I hit bottom and got sober with the 12 steps. The year between 1987 and 1988 I took a lighter load of one, then two classes at C.S.U. in my MFA program. I returned to part-time teaching at Front Range Community College, and full-time study in 1989, took my comprehensives, and in 1990 completed and defended my thesis. In 1991, I began full-time teaching in Illinois not far from Chicago. By that time my spirituality truly began and I read Zen Mind, Beginner Mind, and Peace is Every Step, but I was not sitting or meditating. In 1993/1994 Marjorie and I returned to teaching but we found living 90 miles from Chicago did not shield us from the daily murder or drug bust, and we were concerned that bringing up a 3-yr-old girl was not wise there, and besides in 1993 I failed to "get tenure, and we moved to South Dakota where we remained, and built our little home in Hartford, nine miles west of Sioux Falls. My wife has worked for the government more than 30 years and retired four years ago, and visited our daughter who lived four years in Japan, Chiba, and Date, Hokkaido. I taught part-time until 2001 at which time, because of my disabilities, I could no longer teach. I was never again "let go" from a teaching position. from 2006 to 2007 I taught developmental English part-time, temporary. My wife and I decided especially when I was 58 that I could no longer work even part time, and I retired permanently. I had worked part-time in clerk positions and been on disability since 2001, and it was just time to admit utter defeat. I had published more than 60 poems in little magazines and college journals, and in August 2009 I self-published my book Winter from Spring, in 2011, I nearly died three times, began to truly seek "something" in earnest, and about five years ago joined Treeleaf where one year latter Jundo allowed me to go through Jukau and I was given the Dharma name Tai Shi, calm poetry. About one year before coming to Treeleaf, I self-published another book, Meditations on Gratitude, and at one time both books were available through Barnes and Noble, and Amazon. I believe Meditations on Gratitude is still available. My time at Treeleaf, my friendships here, and my admiration of Doyu have all inspired me to self-publish again, one more book by 2023, and I've collected much of my work in one file already. Now I must edit, add and detract poems, and design a cover. My deadline seems "do able" because I must also save the money for publication.
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Kokuu]

May I suggest another Gary Snyder volume you might not own, and which I purchased in Denver about the time I graduated with my MFA, 1990, Left Out in the Rain, those poems as yet at that time randomly brought together and very good of course

Thank you Tai Shi! I have The Gary Snyder Reader which contains poems from a number of his works so will check out the ones from there and definitely think about getting the full volume.

I hope you can make your deadline for the next volume of your writing.

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Tai Shi]

Age of Compassion

My sixteenth year
Wrote dear first poems
Still collected in
Black volume written
In 1968 incomplete
Blue fountain
Pen to childish
Love blue, invisible
Her father as heart
Pounded in violation
Precept entreating
Safe love, without
Guarded between
Fingers touching
I attended colleges
Not sought in money
Intoxicants gone
Even for our own
Life, relived anger
Last promise
Love, gave no
Love for five years
Strong drink, then
January 7, 1980
Young woman
Teacher of right
Speech, right behavior
Talking on paper
Walked in groups
Together Rhetoric
One Oh One teaching
With Precepts Love
Eternal compassion
Pearl whose shining
Eyes no one had seen
Right behavior, drink
Intoxicant teaching
Lifted glory to my glory
Eyes, I fell, lifted
Finally readings, Zen
Buddhism, rejoiced
2018/2019/2020
Final Precept place,
Young woman
I with her become old
Original writing in black
Volume, Love compassion
Child conceived in marriage,
Shokai corrects me, dignity
I bowed Taishi, Oh Sangha
Our Temple all our world beckons.
Taishi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

I have purchased two volumes of poetry to Learn of Wind, my right speech, oh dear friend Kokuu, before your ordination, together after in Ango, still friends as we exchange our bodies as in Plato, not as lovers and our children fruit of Buddha vine, we cannot violate friendship with moving now stilled tongue, I've purchased two volumes of Gary Snyder, like Andy, stone face, Kokuu, we know loyalty because of you I've come to know The Wind.

Sleeping in our house
Which paid diamond like taxes
Our compassion downed.

For Kokuu
my friend
Taishi
Gassho
sat/lah

[Kokuu]

Thank you, Tai Shi!

You write so well!

Which volumes of Gary Snyder have you bought?


speaking prayers
into the night sky
pilgrim moon


Deep bows, my friend
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Heiso]

I somehow missed this thread - such beautiful work. Tai Shi - I'm glad to hear you will be publishing more of your work,

Gassho,

Heiso

StLah

[Tai Shi]

Seen bows to you all! Earthly universal thought is sought by all, and only a few friends outside Treeleaf Zendo know only a tiny part of my life so invested in these threads in my daily sitting Shikantaza lately as I have dealt with pain, and first medication that actually gave dome relief Remicade, then Cimzia, then Cosyntix, next now perhaps one that will last the duration, one only recently approved for my bone disease of Ankylosing Spondylitis Simponi, more than $4000 per shot, per four weeks. Now it remains to see if my insurance company will approve home use for medication injection sub q every four weeks, so more than $50,000 a year, and if not approved an infusion every six weeks at Sanford Health in Sioux Falls. Now for my dearest poetry-- Kokuu, the two books of essays by Gary Snyder, Chofu, Listen to the Wind, The Practice of the Wild, with new preface by the author, then A Place in Space: Ethics, Aesthetics, and Watersheds. For me My Book changed from Portraits of Their Lives, a book I may complete as my fourth and final book for I am 68, and this book For Patty Brown... entirely and only my writing, no one in or out of this Sangha, Treeleaf Zendo will be included, and as I now edit the rough draft over and over, and over... the writing, and cover are mine. To answer your question Kokuu, the complaint of much contemporary and modern poetry by critics, and the public is that it is largely inaccessible, and the public cannot understand. In Snyder's, Chofu's, work there exists a mix, and I refer you to "The Bath" as for some public readers too personal, though accessible, so how should the poet proceed? The poem is such that Jundo would not allow it to be published here and from The Back Country, admittedly early work by the poet, "Rip Rap," of which any subculture member would recognize as substance abuse. So where does a poet draw the line? Does the poet write for the public or for the self? Does the poet include such incidence as suicide, mental illness, and death as are in my first book, in several libraries, and which made valiant showing of sales, or my second book which included mental illness, much physical pain, and suicide, both books in the Grinnell College Library, one of the finest colleges in the US, or the second book receiving high praise from Professor Emeritus Bill Tremblay, the founder of the MFA creative writing program at Colorado State University. Who is right? Those who would censure all personal writing, so where would we be without Eliot, Pound, Lowell, Plath, Ted Hughes, Richard Wright, the whole cannon of modernists, HD, Marian More, contemporizing like Rita Dove, Gallway Kinnell? And, Chofu, Gary Snyder. I venture to say the criticism of modern and contemporary writers is accurate, and much of what these writers give us is for the educated, the studied, and those willing to look, and look again. And call me an elitist, but the average American has never heard of Basho, or the 5, 7, 5 schemes of the Anglicized Haiku. No, most poetry is not of the light-hearted, Would you have British leave out Keats who writes poetry, "As natural as the leaves on the trees."? Or seeking "The Good, THE TRUE, and the Beautiful?" So where does any writing become non-personal, even especially Shakespeare, and Andrew Marvel, and I venture to say even Milton, Pope, and Dryden?

Tai Shi
calm poetry
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Thank goodness my biological medication fairly new on the market Simponi has been approved for home use at more money than I am given in one year by my wife. This biological related to Enbrel which I took successfully for more than 10 years and this may allow me lol to continue to write about my pain and arthritis ha ha. Lol I pick up my first dose at the hospital in the morning. Now to speak about more pressing matters Coronavirus which we as poets might consider writing about. Truly I believe in many ways poetry shows the state of humankind all human nature may be explored by the poet all good men and women. Consider Pablo Neruda and great poets writing all manner of topics and we as Buddhist poets must consider Compassion and Equanimity As each and all benefit from endeavor to control the spread of disease. Consider Denise Levertov great poets are not restricted in writing. I’ve decided to take a short break from writing to support friends an family as they deal with more pressing things.
Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

The pharmacy is mailing my Simponi pen should be here in the morning then the less I leave the house for an AA meeting only.

Keep distance
Six feet or more
Avoiding corona virus
Never avoiding
Those we love

This year washing
Washing I apply
Lotion, clean smell
Softens safety
Make sure to wash
Hands 20 seconds
Always, 20 seconds
Each time, then
Touch only ones
We live close
Every time we
Bump

Elbows, shower
Stay home
So much
Stay home watch
Movies at home
Popcorn and drinks
Not alcohol that
Used instead of wash
Wash your hands
Feel safe,

Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho


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[Tai Do]

The pharmacy is mailing my Simponi pen should be here in the morning then the less I leave the house for an AA meeting only.

Keep distance
Six feet or more
Avoiding corona virus
Never avoiding
Those we love

This year washing
Washing I apply
Lotion, clean smell
Softens safety
Make sure to wash
Hands 20 minutes
Always 20 minutes
Each time, then
Touch only ones
We love close
Every time we
Bump

Elbows, shower
Stay home
So much
Stay home watch
Movies at home
Popcorn and drinks
Not alcohol that
Used instead of wash
Wash your hands
Feel safe,

Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho


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Lovely, Tai Shi.
gassho1
Mateus
Sat/LAH

[Kokuu]

Tai Shi

That is lovely but you probably mean 20 seconds rather than 20 minutes or that is a long time at the sink!!!

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Tai Shi]

Correction wash
Hands 20 seconds
Lovely smell, racy
Times, wash 20
Seconds, keep
Hands away from face,
Yes, yes, use
Tissue or wash
Hanky’s cloth
Nose wipes
Wash often, be
Good to yourself
If you can shower
Or wash up,
Stay clear
And clean
Stay in with family
When you can
We all reduce hospital
Needs and we practice
Good Buddhist cleanliness

Tai
Shi
Calm
Poetry
sat/ lah
Gassho
Deep Bows



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[Tai Shi]

My book, For Patty Brown..., will be completed, I must admit, a bit delayed-- because of illness.

Tai Shi
Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

If I Were Not Dying

I sit often, just
Sit, no recognition,
My weeds gone from ancient
Garden, flowers of delight
Morning blossoms, Forget
Me Not; sacrificed desire,
With Sunday morning
Auden's sorrow practiced
Friday Human rights
Making Easter gone
Sequestered bodies, rooms
Where we hide from death,
Great harvest, scythe
Striking each stem
Spiral on flowers coughing
Weeds, of Speech to blood,
Lungs in prayer, to chant
Messages lifting death
Into open air, mouth devours
Cross with red blossoms up,
Finding air to restore
Sacrifices of old, or young
Recovery from smoke,
Gardens crowded with wild
Wheat burned-- bodies
Into crematoriums
Smoke wafting into air,
Into our eyes once
Beholding colors show
Human hair, hands, feet
Nailed black skin, their
Eyes with remorseful tears
Blue or hazel, black orbs
White vision gone as blue
Lilies morn above coffins
Our chants rise up
With incense to dispose
Of Life, eternal these fumes,
Becoming life everlasting
Fewer people burned, rise again
With beating heart above virus
Corona pitted flowers bring
Life; sprout again
With oxygen our atmosphere
Petrol gone. We must regain
Vernal Equinox To taste and see,
Worship love, present each
Other as Mum
Of Spirit-- another light
Ancestral vision, seeing
Through eyes-- prisons, colors
Of flame into life, rainbows
With any race welcomed
No hate, all changed
From poison to value
Our Vegetation, Earth's plea
Animal life finding our answers;
Soil, rock-- Friends recovering
With Compassion, Christ's
Love in space,
The Agape of our Bodhisattva
We offer to our flowers
A garden to Plant again
No heaven or hell,
Only open sky our mystery,
Mountains where columbine divide.

Tai Shi _/|\_
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Kokuu]

That is beautiful, Tai Shi! gassho2

[Tai Do]

I loved it, Tai Shi. Thank you for your poetry.
Gassho,
Mateus
Sat/LAH

[Tai Shi]

Brief Recovery Essay
Yes, I am an alcoholic. Tai Shi is my grateful Dharma name, given twice in Dharma call, For Sangha I believe daily I live each second at the moment. I have put together more than 32 years, 7 months with Precept against intoxicants. Recovery depends upon reaching out. I have been told I am old. Truth be told, you and I have years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, so I am told, "Live at the moment." Where did I receive such gift, shall I recite my affirmation, "Having had a spiritual experience as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and practice these principles in all of our affairs." These are words I only try to live and I live to the best of my ability, for love and tolerance is our code, with my rakusu, I chant Verse of Atonement which I shall call the 5th step, Four Vows which I shall call step 11 learning in Metta, steps 6, and 7 reflecting on my humility referring back to step 2, never giving up all shortcomings which I may never claim else experience slips away. Then Step One the bedrock recognizing my humanity, We were (are) who we are; our lives have become unmanageable, so we reach out. Shortcomings felt again in 8, and 9, then admitting 10 the only recognition of addiction, and my humanity, all is worked reaching out for the Wisdom, the Buddha, three, Christ-like, 3, the Sangha, and 10 attainment by giving up, asking forgiveness. All becomes Dharma teachings, scripture, Our Spiritual Awakening. Then we turn, "I take Refuge in the Buddha, I take Refuge in the Dharma, I take Refuge in the Sangha." Then learning of compassion, no anger, no fear, no greed, We come to that choice of Agape, walking in foot steps of each Master. Step 12, giving all away; we are like attainment, sitting Shikantaza for others. Those who find another way, we are nothing but sand, and we are Free. We review this list placing all from one to twelve to give it all away into nothingness.
Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho
"
My book shall take another turn.
This Saturday evening we shall sit.
_/|\_
May the crowned knot of fire..."

[Tai Shi]

Oh dear Kate, I've reread the entries in this our thread, all of us Kokuu, all our Sangha where I take refuge in a thousand jars upon Pine Mountain where I became as young man at age seven my father ran away. Mother gone more than two decades I have regained my father as he returned. This pandemic my mother did not live in Des Moines, Iowa, her return among corn and beans. My father calls our little home on Northern Plains, upon prairie; we venture into city, 10, 15, 20 miles (ca. 32 km) away. Dear Kokuu, dear Kate, when Tai Shi and Marjorie, pearl of South Dakota, found in ancient sea beds, will you remember us if pandemics strike us down, suffocate us, damage our bodies? Smashed upon millennial shore of Bodhisattva?
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Hensho]

For TaiShi, as we endure together

How shall I not remember you, dear
one, as you have called me, summoned
me, bade me to speak, given me
life from your words, your shikantaza
breath?

How shall I not know you as the warbler
who visits the woods behind my house
every fall, every spring, parsing a twig
from a thicket, living the very suchness
of life?

How shall I not hear you as the call
from my neighbor through my studio
wall, with no one, not a single relative
living but still enduring this life, with joy
resolute?

How shall I not remember you indeed, TaiShi.
For you are every rain, a silken thread, both
being and non being, an imprint indelible,
all buddhas throughout space and time,
this very hour.

Gassho,
Kate (Hensho)
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Kate, you give me freedom like a sea full of clouds, for me its not the surface, but the whole ocean like Dogen spoke of in Genjokoan and the depth of sea is more than sea, its the whole ocean this trout, an ocean trout knows how to swim into expanse, and divine calm, greater than god or is it simply God, it is what Christ was pointing to a wonder that those men and women at that Packing Plant crammed into working space killing hogs, piglets for hot dogs disguised me as killer, but forced to give their lives for meat, by the air of Covid 19. What's to become of this human race, so emerging from ocean of death which is not so bad except many had grandchildren, children, wives, husbands, families who ate that meat, depth of swine brought to our own promises as we all enter into water baptism Dogen knew of air into which geese flew infinitely into death as they ate fishes. We end no end Shikantaza, no time, less Earth, Less Space and Time, before I was there, now am there with Serenity Prayer. "God, grant me the serenity to except the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, wisdom to know the difference..." then, "Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace. Taking as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with Him forever in the next." This is the "SERENITY PRAYER" in its entirety. This is what I live for as Dogen knew, and that poet who I have studied all my life. It's not "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," name of furniture company in St. Louis. its more "Ash Wednesday." Turned out of a guyed grove as Yeats reached for without Christ, nor Sailing to Byzantium, A beauty to keep an old man from falling asleep in his leather easy chair, more furniture gift for his wife to give to him, so blessing cattle, finally blessing cattle knowing he will join those people after Covid 19 forever. All this fevered coughing blood soaked tubes to respirator gone into eternity because we are powerless over things we cannot change viruses, flu, Covid, even common cold, all from tiniest organisms known to science, born replicated in human lungs. Shall we leave that yellow mucus, sputum of creation as it propels into ocean life forever into eternity...
Tai Shi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

"We are powerless over alcohol, and our lives have become unmanageable." first in perfect surrender, "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs." These twelve steps never working the eleven in perfection especially this 12th which is Buddha Nature for me, and 5th and 9th when I practice verse of atonement and this readiness in 2nd, 8th, 10th these making sure I make these poems each my inventory only to correct myself to Buddha nature, as I sit patiently looking neither left or right as I see my crooked spine leaning right then left, as I rise from seated cushion, shall I ever make Christ's perfection risen to take on death as Buddha lived life to be teacher of that surrender. So from 11th especially 3rd surrender into God's will giving all to others, in daily step work preparation for daily 12th giving that away, daily earning bread of salvation until body become nothing thy day to air, form is nothing, nothing is form in Shikantaza where I feel no pain, shall I "Enfold myself into the tongued knot of fire,"{Giving over my cremation into smoke, ash, and air, matter is energy. Mass is energy, found in dust attic of the mind, I shall die} as I sat in Shikantaza, I will take refuge in the Buddha, into Jesus Christ, into serenity...
Tai Shi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

This thread is dedicated to the writers I live with, from TS Eliot to Kokuu, from Kate to Emily Dickinson to Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, To EVERY poet in our Sangha, to all my friends who ever raised a pen or keyboard to write a few lines, or more, To Dyo an accomplished poet, to those who join the fellowship of writers though they may never show their work to a soul, part of a family of human beings who make the art of writing something beautiful, their preoccupation, their passion, or a passing fancy, or the work of a dedicated poet. You all are part of this sorority/fraternity. "Come on Without, Come on within, You've not seen nothing like the mighty Quin...when Quin the Eskimo gets here, everybody is going to jump for joy." Bob Dylan, so please, please, jot a few of your own lines here, let your writing flow, be delighted because there is a pandemic, let us NOT give up joy, please write something sad, or happy and write in the face of danger-- oh do not be afraid. Write!
Tai Shi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Kokuu]

Hello all

The UK poet laureate, Simon Armitage, writes of lockdown, weaving together older stories with the present moment...


Lockdown

And I couldn’t escape the waking dream
of infected fleas

in the warp and weft of soggy cloth
by the tailor’s hearth

in ye olde Eyam.
Then couldn’t un-see

the Boundary Stone,
that cock-eyed dice with its six dark holes,

thimbles brimming with vinegar wine
purging the plagued coins.

Which brought to mind the sorry story
of Emmott Syddall and Rowland Torre,

star-crossed lovers on either side
of the quarantine line

whose wordless courtship spanned the river
till she came no longer.

But slept again,and
dreamt this time

of the exiled yaksha sending word
to his lost wife on a passing cloud,

a cloud that followed an earthly map
of camel trails and cattle tracks,

streams like necklaces,
fan-tailed peacocks, painted elephants

embroidered bedspreads
of meadows and hedges,

bamboo forests and snow-hatted peaks,
waterfalls, creeks,

the hieroglyphs of wide-winged cranes
and the glistening lotus flower after rain,

the air
hypnotically see-through, rare,

the journey a ponderous one at times,
long and slow but necessarily so.


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Kokuu]

Weavers

In times to come it will be proclaimed
by skalds*

The spring when we came together
from being apart

Watching the flowers grow
outside of our windows

And our children grow
inside

When we gathered the scraps of humanity
to weave a blanket

Wrapping it around the whole world
to the moon and back

Until we all fell asleep under its warmth
and soft smell

Of jasmine.


*a skald is a medieval Norse poet and story teller (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skald)


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Doshin]

Kokuu

Thanks for sharing

Doshin
St

[Tai Shi]

Give all away
Sorrow of death
Marking human defeat
More than 4 million infected
Morning glories bloom
Near path
Of no remorse wail
Of shrinking science
Stay away with no sister
Brother, all of humankind
Sequester in hovel ask
For food, clean water precious
Divide my cloths among you
Making mask of flannel shirt
Requirement of ordination
In ordinary robes, sacrament
Of death surpassing hundreds
Of thousands suffocate
In own sputum and blood
Who knew such defeat nature
Rebounding with red death
When
Does nothing come to nothing
As politicians through money
At citizenry and knowing defeat
Comes every day office
Of President a farce,
Some laugh grief away
When solace comes in
Sutra only prayer, in chant
In song, to hope harmony
Some will wail
Some will take and leave
Some will wonder
Some will look deeply
Some will grab, clutch
Some will search
Into earth like never before
Like never before
Like never.

Tai Shi
sat / lah
Gassho


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[Hensho]

Thank you for this beautiful expression, Tai Shi. I have been trying to write covid poems and can't. I'm glad you are. I'm glad to have read it as it brings a little solace over this lonely divide.

I hope you are doing well.

Gassho

Kate / Hensho

Satlah

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[Tai Shi]

Siste Kate. Did you know I never had a sister, and such a sister as you with depth and light giving hands as you write so well. Put your pen to paper, or fingers to electronic miracle which my father understands in whirling electrons. Oh, sister Kate we are united in poetry better birth in beauty like the poetry of a child the poem born in equanimity and compassion like pain of all birth. See, we face another, common peril the COVID 19 waiting to replicate itself in living tissue so you and I build edifice of time our poetry which will also disappear someday, like the virus. Nothing lasts forever but the concept of sister brother you and me. We are friends forever.
Tai Shi
sat / lah
Thank you sister Kate
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

Poetry is an act of peace, bridge against shores of time take boat of bodies into Pacific all ending war in 1974; which 55-thousand died against time like pandemic of 2020 where more than 60-thousand, or 70-thousand as largest economy hides those thousands of deaths, so best not to whimper-- stand tall in chronic, arthritic pain relax brain into just sit, Justice will uncover allot fascist history hypocrisy into exploitation of bodies, driven into silence where one only sits in non-revelation apprehending this act of Peace to Read and Write I have committed teaching Peace.
Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

May I never again feel enmity toward any brother or sister here in this Sangha and as we bought flowers for my wife my daughter bought warmth and constellations of father this to all fathers, and mothers who must act as fathers in this uncertain world may both find exact resources for their children, and may all who have fathers and mothers celebrate peace, joy, and understanding, for all of us are deserving of peace joy and understanding. Today and always let it be true, for Higher Powers of each of us all.
Gassho
Bright Blessings
Tai Shi
Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

This is the day I became frightened for the US! There is no plan in our country to save us, THE US, and I refuse to call us, THE USA. We no longer represent freedom, and what we have is chaos among the states for there in no plan to save us. From the beginning it was chaos as my friends refused to wear masks in public. What do you call it when one man wields so much power for self gain? What would you call it when freedoms are being suppressed in a country that once not long ago represented freedom, and now there is less freedom which relies on greed and avarice, and dishonesty, and anger? Am I wrong? My hope lies in people of color throughout this planet, people of the majority. When people of color find computers, and smart phones and learn more fully to wield them, and the internet becomes a tool for true freedom, we will see a great revolution in voting and interconnectednes, in power, in acceptance of all humankind, not just old white men. The situation is grim, especially in the US at the tom. at the top where there is military might. May we as Buddhists represent a peaceful approach to might and subjugation, for we are a large portion of the Earth, and if Buddhists can find a way to be sane, and caring, to teach peace, and understanding, and acceptance, and my hope lies in people of color as well, people of color who are the vast majority of this Earth will use smart phones, computers, and the internet, we will see power taken from old white men. men at the top, and persuasion through a means that will bring about change, and women and the disabled, with this message I am becoming not afraid, and we as Zen, for Mahayana can change the world for the better, and Buddhists of color and women and men and the disabled all together united for the good the true and the beautiful. I have wept for this world, for the people of the world not able to understand the danger in fossil fuels, and nuclear, and all forms of negative human power, we shall survive. Remember Gandhi marchaning with his followers to the sea, to make salt, how they changed a nation, and how a small group of blue coats forced a larger power, a great power to relent. And how a small group of Bolsheviks provided hope which we can delete from negative force for peace, We must not lose hope is education, and communication, for reality is the way for all sentient beings; please let not my tears be in vain, let me turn my pain, and fear, and anguish into realities, into reaching all sentient beings, all who would...Let not my disabilities, and each individual slight be a stopping point. Let us rely on our individual gifts for the better of humankind and all sentient beings, and all the earth as I rely on my gift of poetry. I beg of you, read this and unite for the better.
T
lah
Gassho
sat

[Hensho]

Ah, Tai Shi, I myself have felt anguish over the very same, and have felt helpless to change anything, being but one person, white and privileged.

For us the change must start with zazen, yes? That great acknowledging of everything that is, just as it is. It contains everything in all its forms, including you, including me, including all peoples, all colors, all injustices, and all desires.

As much as zazen contains pain and hurt it also contains justice and joy.

Brother Tai Shi, let us sit together. Together we begin.

Gassho,
Sister Kate Hensho

Sat

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[Onka]

Comrades Tai Shi and Hensho
I read both of your comments and felt great kinship with the words you wrote.
Gassho
Onka
ST

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[Hensho]

Onka:

Your words are the kindest I've heard all weekend.

Thank you for sharing them. Without knowing it, you have given me exactly what I need.

Gassho, Hensho

sat/lah

[Jundo]

Hi Tai Shi and everyone,



This is the day I became frightened for the US! There is no plan in our country to save us, THE US, and I refuse to call us, THE USA. We no longer represent freedom, and what we have is chaos among the states for there in no plan to save us. From the beginning it was chaos as my friends refused to wear masks in public. What do you call it when one man wields so much power for self gain? What would you call it when freedoms are being suppressed in a country that once not long ago represented freedom, and now there is less freedom which relies on greed and avarice, and dishonesty, and anger? Am I wrong? My hope lies in people of color throughout this planet, people of the majority. ...

While I am sure many of us empathize with much of what is here, and a lot of it touches on ethics as Buddhist perhaps, I also think some of the content is a bit too political for our Sangha. Let me again explain why ...


As to politics, we welcome folks left, right and center (the only border being that people are well intentioned, and nothing advocating violence, anger, prejudice and the like). Within those borders, we can agree to disagree, and be tolerant and civil in addressing those who disagree. Our members range from NRA conservatives to a card carrying anarchist and many in between, but I ask them to leave politics at the door.

The best way to express this is that, within our Practice, Zazen and Sangha, we drop all thought of "me vs. you" "approve vs. disapprove" "left right and center" "win and lose" "right and wrong" ... all to encounter a certain "Good" and "Wholeness" that sweeps through and beyond "me vs. you" and all the rest. A kind of light shines through all of that. There is a Peace and Goodness that leaps through all the battles and anger.

Then, at the Zendo door, going home, we are free to pick up again our political views and stands on "right and wrong" ... but, perhaps, this time a bit of that light will keep shining at the still still center of it all.

Sometimes I feel that the Precepts and Vows do drive me to take some open positions on some issues, so for example, I did offer a talk a couple of weeks ago on the current crisis, and how we should have affordable or national health insurance because this is killing people. I rarely speak so openly on issues of social policy, but sometimes I do. It is a fine line, I know.

Generally, let us keep our eye on the wholeness of the world which leaps beyond all the chaos, division and battles of this ordinary world, Samsara.


Gassho, J

STLah

[Kokuu]

all night long
tossing and turning
in pain
opening the window
there, the cool full moon


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Onka]

Gassho
Onka
st

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[Onka]

WALKING.WORDS.


The Game Changer
Check
Contents of bucket
Books and cushion
Present
A goalless goal
Is a goal
Unable to be
Ready?
For what
Lies ahead
Lies ahead
Lies ahead
Is already gone
Moving. Walking
150 metres
Up. Back
Strengthened
Spirit
Enhanced
Practice
Is Practice of the present
Needed?
Daily.

Gassho
Onka
st

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[Tai Shi]

Unfortunately, I too regard my words as too political and not after any Buddhist ideal, ideals, per Dharma-- so sorry Jundo, for I do not regard you as a Patriarch, or male status quo. You have been a trusted friend. I regret treating any country as pariah; one must first regard it's people. Since last week, I have been detoxing from Percocet (Oxy with Tylenol) originally prescribed for my arthritic condition, and I take zero now, and have had none since my last pill Sunday afternoon. I have the brave support my 12th step friends, and I have been hospitalized until today. As a poet I am happy my post generated interest, however my comment was not art. I believe first and foremost in art, and cannot regard current trends in poetry as what I learned in school, for I was made to hold high the good, the true, and the beautiful. There may be some obtuse meaning in form and content toward some obscure belief, but it is not art. For years I have been ill with this narcotic, checked myself willingly into Behavioral Health, where I received minimal professional help because of current trends in medicine, and I sat among patients who were not wearing masks, within 6 inches of each other; I came home with medical approval, will recover more fully with my wife who tells me it will take weeks to feel better and I hope never to take, or look at a Percocet pill again. I was on far too much, far to long to uphold my Undertaking of the Precepts. I made the decision after becoming depressed, entering to be observed by medical people. I regret if I hurt anyone in this Sangha which I hold dear, and love, and or follow with my strongest quality, my loyalty. Forgive me friends, for I care for Jundo, and all of you; we are all in this together. Of Lord Buddha, which is no Lord, smile of knowledge, asking not, giving much, let me me rest tonight though I might not sleep. Dear Sangha, I stand in silence, afraid of what my future holds.
Tai Shi
not worthy pf Calm Poetry
sat/lah
Gassho

[Onka]

Comrade Tai Shi
You received the gentlest of slaps on the wrist for a post that was deemed I tiny bit too political. Rest assured comrade that I regularly receive a kick up the arse in private from Jundo.
Great news about getting out of hospital, I reckon Marjorie is the perfect person to help you stay off of those pills. Speaking of pills, it sounds like you're in a terrific headspace to be able to manage any and all withdrawals especially with so many years of sobriety under your belt.
Day by day my friend and in Dharma parlance moment by moment.
Be kind to yourself comrade.
Gassho
Onka
st

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[Doshin]

Unfortunately, I too regard my words as too political and not after any Buddhist ideal, ideals, per Dharma-- so sorry Jundo, for I do not regard you as a Patriarch, or male status quo. You have been a trusted friend. I regret treating any country as pariah; one must first regard it's people. Since last week, I have been detoxing from Percocet (Oxy with Tylenol) originally prescribed for my arthritic condition, and I take zero now, and have had none since my last pill Sunday afternoon. I have the brave support my 12th step friends, and I have been hospitalized until today. As a poet I am happy my post generated interest, however my comment was not art. I believe first and foremost in art, and cannot regard current trends in poetry as what I learned in school, for I was made to hold high the good, the true, and the beautiful. There may be some obtuse meaning in form and content toward some obscure belief, but it is not art. For years I have been ill with this narcotic, checked myself willingly into Behavioral Health, where I received minimal professional help because of current trends in medicine, and I sat among patients who were not wearing masks, within 6 inches of each other; I came home with medical approval, will recover more fully with my wife who tells me it will take weeks to feel better and I hope never to take, or look at a Percocet pill again. I was on far too much, far to long to uphold my Undertaking of the Precepts. I made the decision after becoming depressed, entering to be observed by medical people. I regret if I hurt anyone in this Sangha which I hold dear, and love, and or follow with my strongest quality, my loyalty. Forgive me friends, for I care for Jundo, and all of you; we are all in this together. Of Lord Buddha, which is no Lord, smile of knowledge, asking not, giving much, let me me rest tonight though I might not sleep. Dear Sangha, I stand in silence, afraid of what my future holds.
Tai Shi
not worthy pf Calm Poetry
sat/lah
Gassho

gassho2

Be Well Tai Shi

Doshin
St

[Kokuu]

The Game Changer
Check
Contents of bucket
Books and cushion
Present
A goalless goal
Is a goal
Unable to be
Ready?
For what
Lies ahead
Lies ahead
Lies ahead
Is already gone
Moving. Walking
150 metres
Up. Back
Strengthened
Spirit
Enhanced
Practice
Is Practice of the present
Needed?
Daily.

Lovely, Onka! gassho2


Summer night
the heat
reaches everywhere.
Longing for sleep
oh, for Master Mayu's fan*!



*Mayu, Zen master Baoche, was fanning himself. A monk approached and said, “Master, the nature of wind is permanent and there is no place it does not reach. Why, then, do you fan yourself?”
“Although you understand that the nature of the wind is permanent,” Mayu replied, “you do not understand the meaning of its reaching everywhere.”
“What is the meaning of its reaching everywhere?” asked the monk again. Mayu just kept fanning himself. The monk bowed deeply.
The actualization of the buddha-dharma, the vital path of its correct transmission, is like this. If you say that you do not need to fan yourself because the nature of wind is permanent and you can have wind without fanning, you will understand neither permanence nor the nature of wind. The nature of wind is permanent. Because of that, the wind of the buddha's house brings forth the gold of the earth and makes fragrant the cream of the long river.

-- Genjōkōan (Kaz Tanahashi translation)

[Onka]

Lovely, Onka! gassho2


Summer night
the heat
reaches everywhere.
Longing for sleep
oh, for Master Mayu's fan*!Nice! Poetry and a teaching.
Thanks Kokuu
Onka
st

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[Tai Shi]

Nigh after 12,
I settle into clean sheets,
Playing our game,
An afternoon of pleasure
Smells of town,
People home
From COVID 19,
I ask “Is there no god?”
Wonder if God abandoned
Nation gone willingly
Into deceit or he embodies
Deceit what one calls
Citizens out to life
Into better life, better,
Detention sequester our kids
Pass within one foot
28 centimeters from my back
Close enough to contaminate
Or no as whizzing bicycle
Vaults past my back
I’m lonely already my week
To walking to Precepts
I sat Metta each morning
At 5 in hospital that’s
What kept me life
In many ways to turn
Corner each evening
Bedtime or dinner,
That’s when I would
Buddhahood reach
Only in sitting
When I’m counting
Thanks to simplicity.
sat
Tai Shi
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20200706/5a3abe2588985d2975246f7bf01d21b7.jpg
https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20200706/843de6170182dfbc64442bfbaacbe742.jpg
https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20200706/b863d1e98b2170fbab2d7bde3682ee59.jpg

My, I’m grateful and can even have Time, which I have, and Onka, you and I have time, or would I need at least partial Time. I can actually feel it now that much is gone and I have gained, I did sit 1/2 hour each weekday and walk loving kindness for Sangha.
sat
Tai Shi
Gassho
Deep bows


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[Tai Shi]

What have I to give
Father but life soon
My body will stiffen
Cold ready for cremation
Fire of gas because natural
Death brought me warm
Solid chime as Sidhatha
Predicted. I move
To less attachment,
Died and left shell of life
Dancing on beach after
Crossing over to other
Shore I know now
Why Buddha became
My following life
Had taken for years
My blood too thick
Yes I’ll die of something
More believing in more
Than I ever did with reality
Induce I’m
Satisfied.
sat
Tai Shi
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

Finally, I’ve lived
I’m sitting,
Trying when I sit
Through life of brain
My essence relieved
Established, no deadening
I feel accepted by my
Day of Shikantaza
Yes I rely on your compassion
This was “one step for man
One great step for mankind,”
Why not humankind where
We move in our Sangha
Away to our sitting,
Had hoped to sleep
By my side
I slept
Early
So early
Lord Buddha
Sutra lives in me!

Tai Shi
sat
Gassho


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[Onka]

Comrade Tai Shi
You're on fire!
Keep these words filled with strength and resiliance coming.
Gassho
Onka
ST

[Tai Shi]

Let's Be Honest

What would I do
Without honesty?
Is it Goodness
Resilience, unbelief?
Desire of flame,
Will my mucus
Membranes regain
Efficacy, more
Life as dizzying
I sit in easy chair?
Oh, Burgundy
Wine color
I cannot have
Except to sit
Clothethed in universal.
Hope, sweet, lingering
Upon as I sit. Seated
Dew on grass, how
Zazen. Could I know
Relife without
First day alone
In universe?
Hot with molton
Desire for Life?
With more Life
As Buddha like, I attempt
Relief from dizzy worldliness
Desire, Duka more than
I can grasp, ever grasping
Grasping without holding.
Someday my body will
Expire, I shall burn
In my aftermath of honesty.
My life, of grasp I now feel.
This is goodness as I let go.

Tai Shi
Gassho
sat/ lah
Lah fir real.

[Tai Shi]

Nigh after 12,
I settle into clean sheets,
Playing our game,
An afternoon of pleasure
Smells of town,
People home
From COVID 19,
I ask “Is there no god?”
Wonder if God abandoned
Nation gone willingly
Into deceit or he embodies
Deceit what one calls
Citizens out to life
Into better life, better,
Detention sequester our kids
Pass within one foot
28 centimeters from my back
Close enough to contaminate
Or no as whizzing bicycle
Vaults past my back
I’m lonely already my week
To walking to Precepts
I sat Metta each morning
At 5 in hospital that’s
What kept me life
In many ways to turn
Corner each evening
Bedtime or dinner,
That’s when I would
Buddhahood reach
Only in sitting
When I’m counting
Thanks to simplicity.
sat
Tai Shi
Gassho


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Thank you all it’s time fo sitting and Buddhist behavior even when I mix it with Christian golden rule or even compassion of Jesus as with the Buddha Sidhartha.
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

I like several simple lines in your poem, Onka, and the lines are image which I find necessary in good poetry.
Tha Shi
sat
Lah
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

The image begets a great question in your poem Kokuu, again as great a question as does the image in Onka’s story at the end of her poem. Good poetry goes beyond the narrative to open another reality.
Tai Shi
sat / lah
Brief to the point good commentary.
Gassho


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[Onka]

I like several simple lines in your poem, Onka, and the lines are image which I find necessary in good poetry.
Tha Shi
sat
Lah
Gassho


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Simple lines for a simple student. Thanks for the kind words comrade.
Gassho Onka
ST

[Tai Shi]

My Own Anger

As I relieved
Of serious anger
By MAO inhibitor,
He gave me life,
Where I forgive,
Prepare me for death,
My wife side by side
Ultimate Shikantaza
Reality comes leaping
Like fox into night.

Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Ryumon]

sitting still
the shadow on the wall is not me
does it have Buddha nature?



Gassho,

Kirk

sat

[Tai Shi]

Sit Better than Yesterday

Fountain of Verse,
Better than yesterday
Visible, renound
My teacher, human,
Sits better today
Yesterday exactly
I know which
Dharma, which Dharma
My mouth, my restraint
Is better than yesterday
Knowing is knowing lovely
Smell, tast all eyes, felt
Sound, all poems
Read aloud, for poems
For me better in three
Verses, more lines, better
Today, yesterday, and now.

Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Kirkmc, beautiful, craft, in three lines, Oh, haiku!
Tai Shi
sat
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Shall longer lines be difficult? No. Each line might contain "Black Petals" on a wet bow, bowel, wood for thought so these words display an image-- more editing with Pound's images, sensation, in Buddhism; can one to six, name them in a poem? SO, plese, I invite you. Creativity a sitting practice. YOUR SPACE!!

White Wordless Thank you Kokuu for your suggestion.


Transendent white
Weeds, in my back
Yard, fill voids
of distress. Pandemic.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Kokuu]

White Wordless

Transendent white
Weeds, in my back-
Yard, fill voids
of distress. Pandemic.



I like that very much, Tai Shi!

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday/lah-

[Jundo]

One of my rare attempts at poetry. A fellow in an online Zen group posted this pessimistic piece ...


Gad Horowitz‎

DUKKHA
OH IS’NT THIS TOO PESSIMISTIC?

Torn from the womb screaming hungry helpless pining paining yearning for love approval safety beg and plead and threaten and whimper and bluster grab and waste one thing after another study work get rich kill study work get rich kill good sex bad sex no sex love hate envy apathy and terror boredom chatter and blather smug self-satisfied and cheery beery glum and weary as body slowly quickly suddenly falls apart more and more sickness and pain and fear of death and wishing for death body falls apart shredded hollowed more and more. how are things? things fall apart. grab some wisdom suck it up too bad for you if you don’t. mourn the wounds the losses of mother father wife husband all close friends one after another even children . it’s only natural. the good books say just relax and accept everything swallow and digest those insults and you’ll have no problem. isn’t that wonderful?
stiff upper lip bite the bullet resentment and blah blah “self expression”. good for you for “confronting your own mortality” enjoy compulsory equanimity if you know what’s good for you too bad if you don’t live with uncertainty too bad for you if you won’t can’t don’t.
Tell yourself well it wasnt all bad look on the bright side it wasn’t all bad. I had a nice dinner and cute grandchildren. And a lovely zen garden. Other people are much less fortunate I should be grateful oh so grateful too bad for me if I’m not
And then do it all over again, again and again maybe this time I’ll be a winner.
But no. Same old same old. From beginningless time the same losing game. Like and share. Then—maybe — Gone gone utterly and completely gone. Svaha! Maybe.

Oh my. :( Yes, the world can be seen so if we wish, but I rejoined ...

THE CURE FOR DUKKHA
Oh, isn't this too Shikantastic?

Born yet beyond birth, silent and satisfied, safe, beyond desire, pain-is-not-suffering, cravings in healthy check, loving, approved and safe, nothing to beg or plead for, free of threat and fear, open hands without grabbing, never a drop of waste, one thing after another yet no place to go, studying and working for their own sake so rich, nobody to kill or be killed (thus we Vow to end the violence!), sex just sex in its time and place, yet more love, never a prisoner or pawn of hate or envy, no way to be apathetic to this treasure of a world, terror exists between our ears yet so does peace, the boredom and celebration of sitting cross legged facing a wall, the loudest chatter and blather of the world is both silence and words of endless wisdom to the attuned ear, the self is satisfied because the self is released, sometimes cheery & sometimes glum yet a Buddha's subtle smile in equanimity through all the ups and downs, sometimes energetic & sometimes weary yet the world keeps turning even as we run or rest, body slowing quickly suddenly falls apart yet there is no time or aging, thus disentangled and content in the face of even sickness and pain and death, moaning and curled up in agony some days as the body falls to pieces yet somehow wonderfully the spirit soars above it all ... observing, Master Dogen says, "If life comes, this is life. If death comes, this is death. There is no reason to try to escape from it, and their is no reason to cling to it either," for all things are impermanent and fall into collapse yet we can allow and flow along with the changes, one need not ask "how are things?" for all things are" just as they be," the people we love and lose and mourn ... mother father wife husband all close friends one after another even children ... go no where and are never lost never born nor die even as we lose them and cry at their graves, . it’s only natural. The good books proclaim so thus they are good, isn’t that wonderful!! May all beings know this treasure, not a matter of some 'stiff upper lip' but a straight upright back just sitting cross legged, the blah blah as simple as the "No going, no coming, no arising, no abiding; Baba wawa" that the Hokyo Zanmai sings - is anything said or not? Oh, so many people in this world are less fortunate, hungry and afraid, let us feed and house and comfort them then teach them how to be free, let us be grateful for all of it ... even the ugly and scary parts ... while we also seek to bring beauty and peace to this sometimes terrible world. No need to be a winner, for the game is already the goal, no gain no loss no win no lose as the ball enters Indra's Net. From the beginning of time, there is no beginning nor time, from the startless start gone gone utterly and completely gone to the other shore right where we sit and stand the Pure Lotus Land ... Svaha! No ifs or maybes about it.

gassho2

Here is another Zen poem ...

Roses are red, violets are blue ...

... yet not.

Gassho, J

STLah

[Seikan]

Jundo,

That's a wonderful prose poem—and a great counterbalance to the other, pessimistic post that you reference. Your poem also has a lovely Kerouac/Ginsberg stream of consciousness vibe that resonates with me.

And then there's this hidden gem...


...Baba wawa...

Are you referencing the late, great Gilda? :)

Gassho,
Rob

-stlah-

https://uploads.tapatalk-cdn.com/20200901/ab7bf2ef1e203d526f06a6a450bb7b09.jpg

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[Jundo]

Baba wawa ...

I always think of that too. It is actually a line from the Hokyo Zanmai ...


Although it is not constructed,
it is not beyond words.

Like facing a precious mirror；
form and reflection behold each other.

You are not it,
but in truth it is you.

Like a newborn child,
it is fully endowed with five aspects.

No going, no coming, no arising, no abiding;
"Baba wawa" - is anything said or not?

In the end it says nothing,
for the words are not yet right.
https://global.sotozen-net.or.jp/eng/practice/sutra/pdf/01/06.pdf

Gassho, J

STLah

[Seikan]

Baba wawa ...

I always think of that too. It is actually a line from the Hokyo Zanmai ...



So cool. I learn something new every day. :)

Thank you for that.

Gassho,
Rob

-stlah-

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[Tai Shi]

I was taught several basic ideas in writing good poetry. 1) Aim for concision in making lines pack images into as little space as possible. 2) The image is basic building block of good poetry. 3) An image makes use of one to five senses in writing that packed imaage. {I believe in Buddhism this might include thought.} 4) Verse can be free but it must contain internal assonance, consonance, alliterations, rhyme, and sound devices. 5) internal sound and sensory detail make meaning outside of the evident (Metaphore, and Simile). 6) Free verse (without traditional stanzas in rhyme produces structure freely formed from elission. 6) Elission is the systematic leaving out of structures in conectives. 7) Elission begines with leaving out connectives like a, an, the, and as many conjunctions and articles as possible. 8) Leaving out some ideas to produce implied meaning {Elission} must not sacrafice meaning. 9) A poem must point to meaning. That is, a poem cannot sacrafice meaning in the way lines are built. 10) Free verse poems can produce stanzas of differing length. 11) Within poems that are built upon traditional metter and rhyme, all these "Rules," {implied or obvious} are used in the best poetry. 12) Free verse, without traditional rhyme and metter, can be, and is some of the greastest poetry written. 13) Traditional rhyme and metter is a great body, some of the greatest poetry ever written, of historical magnitude. 14) Great Literature refers back to the great traditions in meaning and sometimes rhyme, meter-- all sound rules and free verse can form {new} meaning. 15) When a poet writes she reaches toward traditions of great poetry while useing the ideas of sound and sense. 16) Weather ultimate meaning in culture is negative, positive, or neutral has no bearing on the magnitude of great writing. 17) The poet spends her time in study to build, fashion, and write great poetry. 18) Great poetry refers back to this entire body of rules and suggestions. 19) Poetry can make use of some, none, or all of these ideas. 20) Sound, sense, sturcture, and thought exist or do not exist in great poetry. 21) It is the obligation of the great poet to know these ideas whether she makes use, or does not make use of tradition. 22) New traditions such as Marxism, Feminism, Gender Studies, Sociological Structures, and new historical events spring up everyday, and can forge ahead to produce new meaning and new forms, content, and meaning. 23) The great poet might make use of none of these ideas. 24) These ideas are only part of the craft of good poetry, and the great poet attempts to craft meaning in words-- sometimes succeeds.{Sorry Jundo, I couldn't restrict this, only part of the studies of students who write or critique poetry, in just three lines}
Gassho
Deep bows
sat / lah
Tai Shi
{calm poetry}

[Seikan]

I was taught several basic ideas in writing good poetry. 1) Aim for concision in making lines pack images into as little space as possible. 2) The image is basic building block of good poetry. 3) An image makes use of one to five senses in writing that packed imaage. {I believe in Buddhism this might include thought.} 4) Verse can be free but it must contain internal assonance, consonance, alliterations, rhyme, and sound devices. 5) internal sound and sensory detail make meaning outside of the evident (Metaphore, and Simile). 6) Free verse (without traditional stanzas in rhyme produces structure freely formed from elission. 6) Elission is the systematic leaving out of structures in conectives. 7) Elission begines with leaving out connectives like a, an, the, and as many conjunctions and articles as possible. 8) Leaving out some ideas to produce implied meaning {Elission} must not sacrafice meaning. 9) A poem must point to meaning. That is, a poem cannot sacrafice meaning in the way lines are built. 10) Free verse poems can produce stanzas of differing length. 11) Within poems that are built upon traditional metter and rhyme, all these "Rules," {implied or obvious} are used in the best poetry. 12) Free verse, without traditional rhyme and metter, can be, and is some of the greastest poetry written. 13) Traditional rhyme and metter is a great body, some of the greatest poetry ever written, of historical magnitude. 14) Great Literature refers back to the great traditions in meaning and sometimes rhyme, meter-- all sound rules and free verse can form {new} meaning. 15) When a poet writes she reaches toward traditions of great poetry while useing the ideas of sound and sense. 16) Weather ultimate meaning in culture is negative, positive, or neutral has no bearing on the magnitude of great writing. 17) The poet spends her time in study to build, fashion, and write great poetry. 18) Great poetry refers back to this entire body of rules and suggestions. 19) Poetry can make use of some, none, or all of these ideas. 20) Sound, sense, sturcture, and thought exist or do not exist in great poetry. 21) It is the obligation of the great poet to know these ideas whether she makes use, or does not make use of tradition. 22) New traditions such as Marxism, Feminism, Gender Studies, Sociological Structures, and new historical events spring up everyday, and can forge ahead to produce new meaning and new forms, content, and meaning. 23) The great poet might make use of none of these ideas. 24) These ideas are only part of the craft of good poetry, and the great poet attempts to craft meaning in words-- sometimes succeeds.{Sorry Jundo, I couldn't restrict this, only part of the studies of students who write or critique poetry, in just three lines}
Gassho
Deep bows
sat / lah
Tai Shi
{calm poetry}

Tai Shi,

This is wonderful! A poetry "manifesto" if you will. :)

If I may share a similar, yet shorter perspective of my own (in free verse):


Poetry is

That sacred space
Where we meet

Traversing bridges
Built of words

Yet lingering long
In the spaces between


Gassho,
Rob

-stlah-

[Tai Shi]

Thanks Rob.

We welcome
All commentary
Emily Dickensin wrote--
"I know it's poetry when I feel the top of my head coming off."
William Wordsworth wrote--
"Poetry is the overflow 'of powerful emotion' recolected in tranquility."
Each great poet uses their own manifesto..
I am not a great poet; Dickensin was recognized as one of the greatest geniuses in poetry after her death and Wordsworth while he was alive and after his death-- I venture that the great poet reaches a wide audience during or after their life... the test of the great poet lies in audience reached and longevity of their work. One might claim to be a great poet and realize that such recognition might come after their death, but even so might not be a great poet; if a poet can approach a poem like Dikensin's "Safe in their Alabestor Chambers" or Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads, or Tintern Abby, or John Milton's Paridise Lost or the Haiku of The Great Zen poets, or the Sonetts of Shakespeare, or Wolfgang Von Goethe's Faust. Or the courtly poetry of Andrew Marvel, or the great poetry of any period of any nationality, my hat is off to her. Sylvia Plath's poetry is the nightmare of suicide yet we regard her poetry as great poetry. Say what you will, I know it's poetry when I am moved intelectually, spiritually, or emotionally by the realities so expressed. As in the Heart Sutra, or Heart Crane's "The Bridge," or Whitman's "When Lilacs Last in their Dooryards Bloomed." Consider that the great poet might revise a poem hundreds of times, and yet with Whitman's Leaves of Grass it is the 1855 edition and not the deathbed edition we regard with great genius.
Gassho
sat
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Now as for Buddhist poetry; much of what I have read is short. Longer great poetry in Buddhism suggests teaching. There is great poetry in Sutras of all types. Often it appears to me in Buddhist poetry meaning intends to teach moral and physosophical content. Often, in long poetry, or short poetry, the image is cental. Sensory detail provides for structure. {much I don't understand because I cannot read the original and must rely on English translations}, accordinf to my daughter, if I could read the original, I might find great beauty outside English understanding. Of what I have read, I have great appreciation for the combining of ideas with sensory details.
Gassho
sat / lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

As it turns out through editing, omission, and inclusion, none of the poetry in my book resembles poetry of Treeleaf Forum. Some is Buddhist, much is not. A few poems from the book have been shared here. I am the poet of every poem in my book.
Gassho
sat / lah
Tai Shi


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[Gareth]

If time and space, as sages say,
Are things which cannot be,
The sun which does not feel decay
No greater is than we.
So why, Love, should we ever pray
To live a century?
The butterfly that lives a day
Has lived eternity.

- T.S. Eliot

Gassho,
Gareth

Sat today

[Risho]

If time and space, as sages say,
Are things which cannot be,
The sun which does not feel decay
No greater is than we.
So why, Love, should we ever pray
To live a century?
The butterfly that lives a day
Has lived eternity.

- T.S. Eliot

Gassho,
Gareth

Sat today

Beautiful!

Gassho

Risho
-stlah

[Tai Shi]

Thank you Jundo for your work and explanations. Here is the compendium of Soto Zen.
Gassho
sat/ lah
Gassho


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[Tai Shi]

Fall and Buddha Nature

Rites of fall clouds moving
East on Tuthill Park in prairie
This day blooms late marigolds
In afternoon crude wind
Passes me by. Girls with
Ringlets hug their coats
Against winding sun
I am old, look on in disbelief
Of my own Buddha nature
In this wrinkled day of light.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi


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[Tai Shi]

Do keep writing everyone with all you brief or long or short. Do share with us.
Gassho
sat / lah
Tai Shi


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[Jundo]

Here's to the poets ...

Nobel reminds us why Glück's poetry matters now
https://us.cnn.com/2020/10/08/opinions/nobel-prize-literature-louise-gluck-matters-hofmann/index.html

Gassho, J

STLah

[Tai Shi]

I, too, have read Louise Gluck, so in our time, why is it that the greatest poetry is the poetry of depression? This poetry reflects some beauty of and landscape when I chose Theodore Roethke as the poet of my MFA exam, and in that question, and as Roethke had the same disease as me, for 18 years I avoided the hospital after being discharged from one revolving door, and because of other health reasons brought into the Behavioral Health Hospital, a revolving door again like Roethke; he drank too much, and it is said he could be seem crossing the campus of University of Washington talking to the trees. Here 772 new cases of Covid-19 here in South Dakota, 29 new death in three days. It was blood clot to the brain for Roethke in his 50s. I've beaten the odds for a person with mental illness at age 69 because most with mental illness die early. I mean to go into my 80s and beyond. This link tells of Roethke's life. He won the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Award, the Bollinger Prize in Poetry, and more He was Shielded at U of W because he never earned the PhD but the MA in English, and here again a tragic figure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edfly5jPb80

So, should I too remain true to my craft? I've chosen to read instead of The Dharma of Recovery, and a clastic, Loving Kindness which I read eight years ago, and I practice with Metta, and Tonglen. I propose a difficult book to review my knowledge of prosody, The Making of a Poem, Mark Strand and Even Boland, and entirely new to me, Recommend by RobD, Haiku: A Poet's Guide, Lee Gurga; these are after all part of my art, the first I doubt I can read cover to cover, so I will skim, adequate in time left in Ango, then new poetry for me, Haiku. In these pages and in my own computer files sometimes I will practice form and content. Yet, as I have done, perhaps others will practice here the craft of poetry.
Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

I’m not to be negative about contemporary poets because there are many since WS Merwin. and Richard Wilbur who can and are positive in poetry— I’m sure! I just haven’t kept up, and I for one don’t shake my stoke of coal into the furnace of life. I know there are many positive poets, and I can be joyous in my own poetry and have been since I wrote the beginning and end of a thesis on tacking stock of the best that my life has yet experienced. My life is good. If I were to die tomorrow, I have enjoyed the content of beauty no man like me is ever supposed to know. I sought out the best corners of my reality, set up camp there and asked no more. But, it took me decades to understand this and as an 18- year-old boy I thought I was grown up, as a 22-year-old man I thought death had caught up with me. Somehow the small part of me said yes and I went to school, got married, became a father, love my little family, and write some good poems have for the better part of my life. It is me who wants to live! And, each of us wants to live, deserves to live no matter what we say to ourselves. I know the universe is no cipher going nowhere because if humanity should not survive, and I believe it will, there are trillions of worlds out there. There is in my mind no way life could escape this reality. To save all sentient beings, but perhaps we will be superseded by life saving us, that if we survive in small form, perhaps sentient beings will save us, beings beyond the small confines of Star Trek.
Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi


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[Tai Shi]

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/sharon-olds

This poet graphically depicts my home life as boy and early adult seeking everything until i met my precious Marjorie. Our love discovered as I was sudenly transported to somehow be transported to the World of Soto Zen Buddhism, seeking first the winding path to Buddhism and beyond.
Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Kokuu recently had a Haiku translated in a Chinese Format and published in Chinese and English. He is an excellent poet
Gassho
st
Taishi


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[Kokuu]

Thank you, Tai Shi! Means a lot coming from an excellent poet such as yourself!

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Kokuu]

Just a short something that came to me just before sleep last night...

Hours beyond sunset
I read by electric light.
With all of these words on the page,
who can show me the sound
of the wind in the trees?


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Inshin]

One of my rare attempts at poetry. A fellow in an online Zen group posted this pessimistic piece ...



Oh my. :( Yes, the world can be seen so if we wish, but I rejoined ...

THE CURE FOR DUKKHA
Oh, isn't this too Shikantastic?

Born yet beyond birth, silent and satisfied, safe, beyond desire, pain-is-not-suffering, cravings in healthy check, loving, approved and safe, nothing to beg or plead for, free of threat and fear, open hands without grabbing, never a drop of waste, one thing after another yet no place to go, studying and working for their own sake so rich, nobody to kill or be killed (thus we Vow to end the violence!), sex just sex in its time and place, yet more love, never a prisoner or pawn of hate or envy, no way to be apathetic to this treasure of a world, terror exists between our ears yet so does peace, the boredom and celebration of sitting cross legged facing a wall, the loudest chatter and blather of the world is both silence and words of endless wisdom to the attuned ear, the self is satisfied because the self is released, sometimes cheery & sometimes glum yet a Buddha's subtle smile in equanimity through all the ups and downs, sometimes energetic & sometimes weary yet the world keeps turning even as we run or rest, body slowing quickly suddenly falls apart yet there is no time or aging, thus disentangled and content in the face of even sickness and pain and death, moaning and curled up in agony some days as the body falls to pieces yet somehow wonderfully the spirit soars above it all ... observing, Master Dogen says, "If life comes, this is life. If death comes, this is death. There is no reason to try to escape from it, and their is no reason to cling to it either," for all things are impermanent and fall into collapse yet we can allow and flow along with the changes, one need not ask "how are things?" for all things are" just as they be," the people we love and lose and mourn ... mother father wife husband all close friends one after another even children ... go no where and are never lost never born nor die even as we lose them and cry at their graves, . it’s only natural. The good books proclaim so thus they are good, isn’t that wonderful!! May all beings know this treasure, not a matter of some 'stiff upper lip' but a straight upright back just sitting cross legged, the blah blah as simple as the "No going, no coming, no arising, no abiding; Baba wawa" that the Hokyo Zanmai sings - is anything said or not? Oh, so many people in this world are less fortunate, hungry and afraid, let us feed and house and comfort them then teach them how to be free, let us be grateful for all of it ... even the ugly and scary parts ... while we also seek to bring beauty and peace to this sometimes terrible world. No need to be a winner, for the game is already the goal, no gain no loss no win no lose as the ball enters Indra's Net. From the beginning of time, there is no beginning nor time, from the startless start gone gone utterly and completely gone to the other shore right where we sit and stand the Pure Lotus Land ... Svaha! No ifs or maybes about it.

gassho2

Here is another Zen poem ...

Roses are red, violets are blue ...

... yet not.

Gassho, J

STLah

Gad Horowitz‎

DUKKHA
OH IS’NT THIS TOO PESSIMISTIC?

Torn from the womb screaming hungry helpless pining paining yearning for love approval safety beg and plead and threaten and whimper and bluster grab and waste one thing after another study work get rich kill study work get rich kill good sex bad sex no sex love hate envy apathy and terror boredom chatter and blather smug self-satisfied and cheery beery glum and weary as body slowly quickly suddenly falls apart more and more sickness and pain and fear of death and wishing for death body falls apart shredded hollowed more and more. how are things? things fall apart. grab some wisdom suck it up too bad for you if you don’t. mourn the wounds the losses of mother father wife husband all close friends one after another even children . it’s only natural. the good books say just relax and accept everything swallow and digest those insults and you’ll have no problem. isn’t that wonderful?
stiff upper lip bite the bullet resentment and blah blah “self expression”. good for you for “confronting your own mortality” enjoy compulsory equanimity if you know what’s good for you too bad if you don’t live with uncertainty too bad for you if you won’t can’t don’t.
Tell yourself well it wasnt all bad look on the bright side it wasn’t all bad. I had a nice dinner and cute grandchildren. And a lovely zen garden. Other people are much less fortunate I should be grateful oh so grateful too bad for me if I’m not
And then do it all over again, again and again maybe this time I’ll be a winner.
But no. Same old same old. From beginningless time the same losing game. Like and share. Then—maybe — Gone gone utterly and completely gone. Svaha! Maybe.

That's the best piece on being fed up with Samsara I've ever read. Dharma seeking mind is partly born from having had enough of life and death cycle, right? From here it takes a split second to realise, to truly let go and swim with the Flow.
Gassho
Sat

[Jundo]

gassho2

[Seikan]

Just a short something that came to me just before sleep last night...

Hours beyond sunset
I read by electric light.
With all of these words on the page,
who can show me the sound
of the wind in the trees?


Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

That's lovely Kokuu! Thank you for sharing. :)

gassho2

Gassho,
Rob

-stlah-


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[Tai Shi]

“Who can show me
sound of wind in trees.”

Beautiful thought, beautiful so lines good and creative.
Gassho
st/ lah
Tai Shi


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[Tai Shi]

With all my dedication, there are here many excellent poets. All I’ve ever wanted was to win my third year college poetry contest. These poets surpass my yearning to ‘just be good enough.’ My MFA brought only time to write. Then time disappeared like years of worthless verse.
Gassho
st/lah
Tai Shi


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[Hensho]

Lovely poem, Kokuu. Keep em coming.

Hensho

Satlah

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[Tai Shi]

But now I write with joy
With chair I sit, not cushion on the chair
I hope to sit as mountain with belly
Round filled with air
I let each breath leave my body!
With my belly
I say in my mind
After I recite in my mind
Beautiful Robe Verse, just
Impatience
Letting go what is in
One, two, three, four
Back again
Out always mindfully
Giving as my mind
Does not wander following
Highway gently out, out
Out, out, our, out
Ten times now I recite
In my mind Serenity Prayer
Let me be strong enough
To let my cat run my sitting
Sitting, seamless my cat decides
To walk away, I’m focusing
Or not one two three four...
Bell rings three times while
To myself I think about
Lord’s Prayer and was I grateful for my day my Evening Gatha
Somewhere monks pen
Beauty to my day.

Gassho
sat
Tai Shi


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[Tai Shi]

Elemental Matter

Ominous is snowy
Field of frozen day
Before the light.

Day approaches our
World where sun
Bakes sands of seedless
Time to mend our poetry
In pools of brown rice.

Will food come to those
Who wait silently?
Dawn is nothingness.
Covid 19 asks again.

Lorries wait before
Sun where twin planets
As one star
Carine in centuries
For emperors sake,
Bread of inoculations.

Hope to reconcile
When we sit
Zazen quietly,
Emptiness reigns
Giving to the poor
Our purity of time.

In gratitude we write,
Our only choice,
Exponential Metta
Our grand new voice
Life remains
Of Master Hongzhi.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

The world is delicious,
Sun bringing robins

With day from night
Farmers tend fields
To light at four a.m.

Children, I remember
Laurel could drink no
Cows' Milk from infancy,

Farms where goat milk
Protein nourished child.
Our daughter heard doves

we called her Laurel,
Her Laurel Ann, name mom,
Gave like music she

She played In parks across
From our home, while daddy
Taught at local college

Stores for Beautiful
Spring in late May
Corn and soy beans

Grew for Tokyo curds,
she could not drink milk
Thousands of miles

Around the earth, away
From south Dakota farms
In prairie lands upon family,

Farms where Robins fly,
for years old May mornings

Upon dew covered grass
Turning green in May,
In goat pastures, cows
Left easy and alive.

[Rich]

Nice. Thanks
Sat/lah


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[Tai Shi]

I’m fearful that they
May never heal die
Entertaining phase
Two: healthy brain
Surgery with maybe
PTSD but miracle
In that I am alive again
Keeps me hopeful
Anxiety looms wide
Higher like blackbird
On wire swooped
Looks at anonymous
Bird doctor essentially
To fields, how he
Repairs my grotesque
Attitude, now lilacs
Creative seed growth
Of purple flowers
Become hopeless
Despite first summer
Breezy storms 110
Miles tornadoes are
Gone for birds survival
We allow miracles
Of meditation
Daily bread breakfast
Lunch, dinner hope
Food from earth
Fattening birds,
Stomper full today
Lilac’s seeds dependence
On wind scattered
Openly to wind
Expect food another
Summer day solstice,
She has everything she
Thanks goodness we
Are safely repairing
Everyone everything
Everywhere sometimes
Dandelions puff home
Breeze let us rejoice
For blackberry harvest
After lilac blooms again!
Nourishing creatures
In summertime, solstice
Bringing healing food
Near death bringing
Life next to blood
Seeing after wind
Torrential recitation
Without inviting
Bell fragment of memory
Maybe returning home
Reading earth wind
Fire within Bodhisattva.
Lotus bloom is again!

Gassho
sat/lah


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[Rich]

[emoji93]Sky paradises
And future salvations dropped
For the love of now


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[Tai Shi]

AGING WITH PEPPER

FOR Marjorie and
Taishi

I have No PTSD after brain surgery
Memory of Fern Lake Trail, More than 35-
Years ago, Rocky Mountain vision gone,
Pristine there was slender life, faun, 9000
Foot trail, I told her, we could not reach
Out to feed our lunch three feet away
It stood with it's Brown with White spots,
Where was the doe? Looking on, we hiked
In shaded sun, one-hundred yards more
Our unbelief, vision of mirror, blue shimmer,
Finally, serenity of clear rippled bright lake,
Flocks of birds flying, fish swimming, chaos
Gone on summer day in August, climbing
Back, we would not return next year,
Our Daughter came before, our sacrifice,
Our beauty. This translation traveled free
Laurel wreath of Japanese orphan, female
Feline found 12,000 miles away sheltered
Far away from us, Japanese literature
Never Temporally gone, her Alana, long
Sought large brown-black born without care,
Now nestled in America wakens to mornings
With Pepper cat, both eating morsels together
Tabbies, great Alana cat ate soft tidbits
Pepper gulped both from my wife's and me,
Tins of food Pepper territorial at home, Alana
Months away from her city, St Louis. Home, She
Sleeps quietly. Eyes closed, daughter looking
Into mind of hope to scholar, poet, teacher,
Flew to Tokyo for one year, ageless days gone,
Alana her cat now breaks my heart disappear
As Rocky Mountain visions, Daughter takes
Her back, daughter, yet conceived in silence,
Carrying poetry like mother female cat looking
To settle away from family, bird of education.
Eight-hundred miles, drive away in Honda Civic,
Her cat rides in red case home to Missouri.
For us, Summer to Winter returns, on time,
Our Pepper cat momentarily quiet, reflections,
Mirror plays, then She dreams, Old Pepper
I am ab Salt in time. We never owned Alana.
Authentic hunter, Pepper's purr to mother me,
Clouds of rest. She's serene, I'm sublime,
Pepper cat remembers her old spring,
Now leaps to cupboard, then to my lap.
Alana departed once more for Washington
University. She saunters into new apartment,
To only file away, hours in chairs, laps,
Upholstery. Now lithe Pepper toy balls
Alana is gone once more. Anon Cold plays.
Winter Life without young cat, Pepper
Sleeps on furniture, returns again to me,
To family, quietly, the two of us, Mother
Now beautiful 67-years-old Marjorie,
She's Pearl spinning, taking care of me,
I am Calm poetry finally I am 70-years-old.
This is time, an arthritic outlook, Stiff
Bones on fire like our cat I give breathing more
My calcified ribs, my shaking hands, sweet,
I am an old man, even our Pepper is old.
Scoops of ice cream not good enough,
It's necessary like wind, swirling blizzard,
Wild white ice on my plate, prairie frozen
With deep snow. Our daughter has passed
Her comprehensives, we have passed our days
Into night. Draped night, blankets of white life
From Winter, subzero wind. We sleep in warmth,
We are silent dust on roses, on glowing trees.

Gassho
sat/ lah


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[Rich]

[emoji93]Dropping all thinking
She became infinite space
An ocean of love

Sat/lah


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[Tai Shi]

For Rich
And the other.

Dropping my thoughts,
Rich, you tech my young
Love in infinite space,
Pools of light heart,
In three ln esteemed
Light I think of beauty
I am right temporal
Lobe set free to breathe
I simply can feel pain
Again, from it comes
Sensation, Richest black
Field of stars, set against
Nothingness and something
Rich, teach me once more
In three beautiful lines.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Rich]

For Rich
And the other.

Dropping my thoughts,
Rich, you tech my young
Love in infinite space,
Pools of light heart,
In three ln esteemed
Light I think of beauty
I am right temporal
Lobe set free to breathe
I simply can feel pain
Again, from it comes
Sensation, Richest black
Field of stars, set against
Nothingness and something
Rich, teach me once more
In three beautiful lines.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[emoji120][emoji171][emoji3522][emoji254]


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[Tai Shi]

Song of Old Wine
For all alcoholics.
Long term is possible.

Some time ago witnessing
Tom in his beauty, who said
Man cannot be beauty, Jundo
We gather as great humanity
Onka divide us not remain
Loving kindness, what
Time, the other, water
Dry or not of wine making
From water. Against three
Exceptions, creation? Half
Life. Much time, what
Second, year, decades,
I've lived seven decades,
seven tenths century
Tom his miracle of Life,
Give me some wisdom
Half my seventy years
This is my miracle. month
Fifteen moments, moment
Of days, three and one
Half decades with no
Alcoholic beverage, red
Wine like blood, what
For Buddha was water
Had fermentation become
Yet, with Jesus new wine
Old wine in vats, casks
How did jars at wedding
I choose to be clear
No drinking I'm clear
Of thinking. Precepts
First miracle. Buddha first
The Still Shadow
Dry cool air, shelter me
Buddha, sun standing
Still or was it shadow
Stayed, wine for wedding
Jesus first miracle
Oh Buddha, keep me dry
Those who wish wetness
Those who wish dryness
Which is most like wine?
To quench from Lazarus
Rayment dipped to quench
In hell, Buddha's volition,
Give us more miracles
Since bringing bird songs
For She is perfect poet
Finding in hut, like Grass
Hut, may we find shelter
From noonday sun, may
Her tongue be satisfied,
Those wishing moisture
May they be given away
From wine fermentation
Precepts I find for myself.
May I be day, daily more
Than dry, sober only each
Not Thirty-five years,
Dear Kokuu, poet of Haiku,
Forty-five years, young,
I smile, this is my miracle
I am alive to tell you truth.
Each day Marjorie sees truth.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

I choose to be clear
No drinking I'm clear
Of thinking. Follow precepts
First miracle. Buddha first
The Still Shadow
One day, when Prince Siddhartha's father took his young son out into a village area for a ploughing festival, his nurses left the would-be Buddha alone under a tree. During the festival the young prince notices various sights of suffering, such as laboring men and oxen, and worms and insects being exposed by the ploughing and eaten by birds. Seeing these sights he then began to meditate under the tree and attain jhana. As time went by the tree's shadow miraculously stayed in place, sheltering the prince in shade as the sun moved across the sky.[8][9] In another version of the story, the would-be Buddha fell asleep under the tree during the festival. As time went by and the sun moved across the sky the tree's shadow likewise stayed still, keeping the young prince under the shade for the duration of his nap.[10][11] Wikipedia.
Thirty-five years,
I smile, this is my miracle
I am alive to tell you truth.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Rich]

Waking to what is
She felt a joyful presence
Watching sky castles

Sat/lah


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[Tai Shi]

Essentials

Work discontinued as some hearing loss,
Thirty-five years of sweet little tears, rounded,
Half is life, Father ending Ethyl alcohol, Sions
End, daughter growing up, her MFA, her poems
Her Asian translations found in poetry,

He could never give her this, never hidden
Endings of cheap vodka spill, hidden will
Given away, Champagne glasses gone,
Gone, Professor, may her PhD teach
More than mear change, changed
To teach design after her students,

Mother’s sacrifice, when did she get
Her reward, driving her sweet, bright blue,
Creative writing his peers, his love,
He sobered July 22nd, 1987, living
Amends, now thirty-five years. July 22nd,
What is old, were they told June 12th 1982?
Would end. Wasn't it their dream?
Would they last? Half their lives,

Old together? He writes,
Not one day, aging explaining night.
They look after– half Luna, three quarter,
They are ready? When endings come,
Isolation, Creation reaching for Stars,
James Webb galaxies, red nebula,
Space dust, always together.
End of their cells in these sober thoughts,
Solar system, Voyager one and two,
More than forty years. Then Alpha Centauri,
Moon in their windows, atoms survive.

Tai Shi

[Rich]

Thanks. You put things in perspective

Sat/lah


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[Tai Shi]

Kokuu! Do You Remember

I ask you how long
We have been friends,
Yes how long have we been friends?
When +how many years?
Do you recall? Was it string, summer,
Fall, or winter? Was it in April,
August, or December, or was it
In some time neither of us recall?
I believe you will have
As much difficulty remembering
As me. I recall fair weather;
What do you recall? I am wrong,
I have gone through two seasons
Recalling nothing, and should

This be a poem?
I don't know. I am on significantly
Lower drugs than I was on
When I met you.
I am insignificant.

Tai Shi
Gassho
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Spring 1982

She insisted
They would elope,
Still June 12th, 1982,
Blue wedding dress, suit
Worn twice, blue her eyes,
Forty years, wedded,
Would be together!
Forty years he wears
Ring, on left for wedding.
He insisted tradition,
Realization of dream,
In pain of life, one step
Then thirty-five years
Half life, half
Of his life, she is 67,
More than her life.
Five years more,
Bare, no soul
She waited on him,
For child. Loyalty!
Monday July 22nd, 1987,
100%, off of that surrender,
One fraction of percentages,
Drop, not one living
Amends, whole life,
Less is more.


Substance gone--
Daily, then will be so
To come 35 years more.
Flush of Fractions, more.
Little child, thirty-three
With them, how they
Are Good parents!
They chose life,
Not desperation,
These young ones can
Help helped destination.
Failure of less 100 years?
Century of seventy,

Mind,
Surgery as
Land of seventy.
Craniotomy, Necessary
Never elective on right
Temporal lobe.
Friend of nurse,
Never faltered,
One measure
One brother,
Finally heart disease
Valves surprised
He lives on,
Someday in their
Wholesome death
This is only me--
To be 70-years-
Old, years waiting
For corrections,

He worked his life,
Just names,
Stronger poisons
Never used again.
Why do you ask?
He is not you?
In endless
Infinite to save
All sentient beings,
He is not poisons,
Shots causing,
Good, less pain.
He has learned to see
Through invisibility,
Of dishonest poetry,
Disclaimers every
Professional responsibility
His body, healthy mind,
Is reality, sentience.
Corporeal,
They show poetry
To them, take it all
Never personally know
His personality,
Take responsibility.
Perfection never years,
Decisions snap infinity.
Yet, he is only one day.


Exempt,
Sacrum, Neck,
Tender nerves,
In his upper,
Body never today
Special shoes.
Near to him, all
She did was gone
He found corrections!
For others not,
Vortex up endlessly,
Say my Dharma!
Friends, words
This! Leave form,
Beyond, give life,
Far behind,
She teaches zazen
She is Zen,
Loving Kindness.
His salvation,
His myth, his history,
Saved by her, he saved
Her. See teacher,
She insists on now,
He insists on meaning,
Objects not of past?
Take medicine?
As you are told,
For what I have
To do myself,
My secessions, sit
Just sit,
This is just is.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Rich]

[emoji94]The final shipwreck
Revealed all was illusion
Trust in emptiness


Sat/lah


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[Nengyoku]

A toad sits on the lily
The lily does not rush anywhere
I sit on a zafu
And my mind races

Gassho,
Nengyoku
Sat

[Tai Shi]

Empty Midwesten
Midwestern Hope in Yellow Butterfly

Empty wading pool, electrified hands, pictures, taken with his used camera,
Body, accept Trees, maple planted here Midwestern United States silt
Willingness of smoke or torrents of water, burning hot doubt laden water,
Leave it to come to sweet spot to buy big dull V-6, V-8 pickups, :Luxury
Cars, live in $1200 a month apartments, work in credit cards, work at J.C.
Penney, teach new children, Black, Roses, Tan in a hundred shades, teach
English. Trees experienced at Parks where Monarch Butterflies flit no more.
Release, diadem of lunch, food plentiful when bread is $3.50 instead of $5.00
Reading, writing, cannot keep teachers because they will not pay living wages,
Essential is blue sky, jobs plentiful in fast food because work cannot kill earthen homes,
Of Gapping corn fields plowed under into acres and acres and acres brown clay,
Front yards of cheap houses built in fashion to make green money back,
Keep our valley, no buildings commence, factory of fabricated cement pipe,
Restless gather camera long zoom, short focus, walk safely to City Park,
Knifing incident west, shooting East, death it's happening everywhere, City Park
Wave black DSLR 18 to 200 auto Tele Zoom lens giving way to roses, no children,
Safety because see you shooting camera with squirrel, wren, flying creatures
Cannot enter safely clear magnet of other Park named with flowers, flowers,
This year, any type, give large postage stamp acres of petunias, begonias,
Calla Lilly, succulent so rare, this year yellow swallowtail butterfly, hope again.

Gassho
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Tod, than thank you for your help
Thank you for your verses, poetry
Please write these good lines again!

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Rich]

Jumping out of time
Into eternal presence
Joyfully aware

Sat/lah


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[Nengyoku]

Carefully the petal falls
Clinging to the cool spring air
Wishing the asphalt were not so hot

Gassho,
Nengyoku
Sat

[Tai Shi]

Woodcutter's Hut

More hope I beginning of fall, white
Scintillates in future waking winter
Hands no longer follow ease, tinker
Behind hammering pots of poems
Delight word smith be disappear.
Stopping by woodcutters hut
Made of grass; maybe lives.
Tai Shi
sat/ lah
Gassho

[Tai Shi]

Awaken

We celebrate new cold return of Autumn
This white breath is real, our trees yellow
Orange, hint of green these poems dear
Above our morning chant out, sing Oh bard


Oh Buddha west, morning sphere, raising
Into smoke of South Dakota, in these
States, brought forth in Heart Sutra, clear
Oneness sit zazen, Shikantaza bringer Ubasoku

Singer in background quiet refrain, backward
Forward chant, renunciation we miss Verse
Of Atonement, Gatte, Gatte, Paragatte. Awaken.

Gassho
Return, Ubasoku
Out of pain which is pain
Deepest bows,
lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Nengyoku, please bring your light bright poetry here again, Haiku bright; bring another experiment just as light!

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

Oh Rich, such sweet Haiku, bring light verse again. We invite all who would post big or little poetry, and verses!

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

Need not be ostentatious,
Light giver at 5:00 am,
Sun comes bright later
Parting clouds, ringer sit
With others thought late
Though latter. Mind blank
Flowing like river in Sioux
Falls, Big Sioux my Shikantaza,
Rest all pain into pool of light
Eddy, bright in farm runoff.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

Watching fog descend,
White misty plains sweet moisture
With palms up, hands cold

Gassho
sat/lah


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[Tai Shi]

Having Made Mistakes

Though like most editors
Poetry of women, written
In calm daylight in day calm,
Giving into the other, one
Sits, daily, sits daily
Shokai, Zenkon status, living
Life everlasting without
Salvation, saved without
Repenting, Verse of Atonement
Wish of the realizid, Priests
Ubasoku all nine of us, Onkai--
Newly transmitted, one year
ago, Kokuu, stone grace,
Each of the Others who
I shall know as I have loved
Shokai, Kokuu, Sekishi red beard,
Those who achieve priesthood
Someday, Zenkon shall,
You are old like me, Shokai
All four have taught me--
Shall even we be like one
Another speaking of the best
Of The Lotus Sutra, equality
Forgiven as we forgive our
Doctors having made mistakes.

Gasho
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

This is for the poetry of Rich and the first free women who write with humility.


ABHIRUPANANDA
DELIGHTING IN BEAUTY

Haven't you spent enough time
comparing your hair
and your clothes
and your face
to the hair
and the face
and the clothes
of those around you?

See the body of what it is.

Real beauty is in
the clear open light
of the nonjudgmental heart.

The First Free Women

[Tai Shi]

Deepest Thee Well of Health

Finding more of light
Farmland of this place
Prairie of corn, beans
Those who farm as
In families old generations
Boldly remain for families,
Those dear old houses
In Hartford our town
Of three thousand next
To Sioux Valley, place
Of Sioux Empire, Sioux
Stampede no more, set
Aside, and who moved
Away from that very land
Once bison strode land
That land of corn, beans
Once of bison streamlets
Brought water so dear
Needed water to flatland
Now rain soaks no field,
Grow dry, as rain comes
Not, and farms sweltering
In drought, land slaked
To dust again, wind storm
One hundred more miles
An hour now destroys
Roofs of Dakota, White
Lakota all affect comes
Torrent of feeling, Nakota
Sioux to ancient Days
Where yet some people
Come to inhabit what
Is left of Priene Land...
Gone to Earthquake

Gassho
Tai Shi
We invite all who would write are welcome, write all poetry for heart.

[Tai Shi]

My Corner of Life

Here in Hartford town
of 3000 souls
I am like the other
Nestled into roofs
Roof and square rectangle
Wouldn't just deserve
What each American
Wants with their whole
Heart, heart given
A House, a plot of land
Near Grocery. Doctor
Only blocks from my door
They send the ambulance
When I am sick
Minutes away, the freeze
Of brain tumor
The seizure, gone
Seeing out saved
By Strong Waters, thew Day
Now I seize the day, in it
Lay me down at end of life
Let me know this little
Oh, Peace, let me know
What is not to hurt
From so much arthurite's
No bones left in head
Bring me water, this disease
No more ease in my limbs
Only two fingers left
To type poems to relive
My coming end of life
If I were to die today
To my dust gone every
Fossilized me, gone
Never to be except
In my poetry, oh think
Light of me for I am
Spread on a flower garden
Of roses and daffodils,
Gone is the me grown
Into floral dust to fertilize
Myself and roses die
In the fall to be covered
By the deepest winter cold.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi
Calm Poetry

[Tai Shi]

First Eulogy

My flesh hangs, shakes,
Then muscles tight. Feeling
Old and used. I groan.
Literally without young body,
Now I'm calcified bones.

Turtle Creek, this year will
Grow as torrent of snow
Two feet deep, raw
Thickened Ice will thaw,
Once motors glide
Great army of trucks,
Plow Winter's deep
Western blizzards as years
Build up my millennia.

My heart knows only age,
On like my seventy-one
Years, sacrificed in silent
Veins encapsulated cranium
AVM, gone. I do feel more.

Giver of rebirth, mouthing
Verses, nothing except rattle
Of keyboard, and handful
Of poems, never stopped
Except wind of an old man
Wishing to be more,
Like Rocky Mountains
Like Indian Ocean.

My love undone,
Time's immortal song
All that I have left. Here
Comes the sun, golden
Wisdom of my worn soul.
Nothing left but feeling!
More mindfully thought
I like relent of spring
Daylilies my epitaph.

I pass away wishing
Some immortality. Zen
Says maybe none, maybe
Some. Are Poems electrons
Whirling to disappear?

These worrisome years are
Music's greatest time, rejecting
Fear, Lotus Sutra ways,
See to I hear it say.
Am I to die, now she's so dear?
I'm satisfied in Buddhist
Realm of memory?
I will rise up and sing
My greatest memories!

Tai Shi
sat/lah
Gassho

[Jishin]

My flesh may ache and shake,
But my spirit is light and free,
For in Buddhist Heaven, I'll partake,
In ultimate joy and harmony.

Turtle Creek may freeze and snow,
But my heart is filled with glee,
For in Buddhist Heaven, I'll know,
Eternal peace and tranquility.

My body may be old and weak,
But my soul is young and alive,
For in Buddhist Heaven, I'll seek,
New experiences and love to thrive.

Giver of rebirth, reciting verses,
I'll join the righteous and wise,
In Buddhist Heaven, with no curses,
Only bliss and enlightenment arise.

My love may be undone by time,
But in Buddhist Heaven, it will renew,
For in that pure land, so sublime,
All things are possible and true.

As the sun rises on a new day,
My soul sings with joy and cheer,
For in Buddhist Heaven, I'll play,
With friends and family, always near.

Immortality may not be certain,
But in Buddhist Heaven, I'll live on,
For my soul will find its true curtain,
In that paradise, where I belong.

In the Buddhist realm of memory,
Karma may never be fully satisfied,
But in Buddhist Heaven, there's no worry,
For all beings are blessed and sanctified.

So let us rise up and sing with glee,
For Buddhist Heaven is our destiny,
Where our souls will be forever free,
In ultimate joy and serenity.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Tai Shi]

Pleased, no name my poem below. Now, I do see you as teacher of another way which though not mine is no win, or whine.

A little explanation for Jishin.


First Euloge, My work is good, to copy words is the highest form of praise. I have a lot of fun with words. Let me share this space. Yes I have bipolar one, and severe Arthritis of the spine, Ankylosing Spondylitis at 40 struck me down, I failed to receive tenure at my college, now I see good teacher Jundo confirms this old parable, Today well lived makes every yesterday a wonderful history, future vision of hope with much tenacity. I am here and now. Yes TC allowed me to change pain to hurt, semantics less drama, just beauty of imagery. More harmony.

Not exactly stolen, but broken spirit of my poetry where are nice places and sentients? I rather honor, taking one's Ideas, but high praise of my work. Thank you, Yes Thanks, with gratitude feel honored. Where is Turtle Creek? The creek that runs through Hartford, South Dakota where I live here surrounded by farmland with some of the last girgin Prairie. I used to walk there, now since my brain surgery, October 29th, 2020, 9:00 am, up at four to prep, this year and six months into recovery, no more seizures, not fear of death or stroke all gone, new care givers have me on crestor and my pacemaker made current. I have willed my brain to Harvard Brain and Tissue Bank, immanent life because dear Kyousui nurse for life when seizure struck urged Marjorie take me to ER immediately. I no longer will walk by Turtle Creek, because of AVM, now removed, large scar and Titanium in skull. I do not drive, I can only walk short distances. I am old admittedly at 71, Now balance gone, fell down basement stairs, tore wound in left leg, Wound Vac for months, finally yesterday after months of recovery, building scar tissue, now more peaceful place; experience, never to venture stairs again. For rest of my days at least a cane, true parable; in later one walks with three legs. Oedipus had this same difficulty. Luckily I did not marry my own mother! My dear Marjorie who I love with more intensity takes good care of me. Thank you Jishin for all your outpourings. One can change. Thank you for sharing space urge more people come and see, express their own poetry.

Gasho
sat /lah
Tai Shi

[Kokuu]

Tai Shi

I think that Jishin's reply is a response to your poem.

Gassho
Kokuu
-sattoday-

[Jishin]

Let us not cling to ownership,
For ideas flow like a river's current,
And to copy is the highest praise,
An acknowledgement of our worth.

We may have different paths to follow,
But all lead to the same destination,
Let us respect each other's journey,
Without judgment or hesitation.

In the spirit of Zen, let us release,
All notions of right and wrong,
And see each other as fellow travelers,
On this journey that is lifelong.

So Tai Shi, Jishin extends a hand,
In gratitude and understanding,
For in the end, it's not about who's right,
But the connection and love we're handing.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

He who knows everything, knows nothing,
For knowledge without humility is blinding.
To claim to have all the answers in hand,
Is to close one's mind to the vast unknown land.

For wisdom is not found in certainty,
But in the questioning and uncertainty.
To embrace the mystery of what we don't know,
Is to open the doors of the mind and let it grow.

So let us not be deceived by the illusion of knowing,
But be humble and open to the river of ongoing.
For he who thinks he knows it all,
Knows nothing at all in the grand scheme of all.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

I think he stole my poetry,
Or maybe I just lost it.
It used to flow so easily,
But now my mind is exhausted.

I poured my heart into those lines,
But now they feel so hollow.
It's like he's taken what was mine,
And left me feeling so low.

I search for words to fill the page,
But they all seem so trite.
I feel like I'm trapped in a cage,
And he's taken all my light.

But maybe it's not him at all,
Maybe it's just my fear.
Perhaps I need to heed the call,
And let my voice ring clear.

For no one else can tell my tale,
Or speak my truth so well.
It's time for me to lift the veil,
And break this writer's spell.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

Within the depths of the human mind,
Lies a world that's often hard to find.
For those with mood disorders, it can be a struggle,
But poetry can be a creative bubble.

Studies suggest that these individuals,
May be more likely to engage in writing visuals.
A way to cope with their emotional experiences,
And express themselves through poetic instances.

Bipolar disorder with its highs and lows,
Can inspire art that truly glows.
Mania with its hyperactivity and racing thoughts,
Can contribute to creativity in large plots.

However, it's important to remember,
Not everyone with mood disorders is a writer.
Many other factors play a part,
Such as education, interests, and life that art.

Those with depression, for instance,
Can experience heightened introspection's attendance.
It brings self-awareness to the forefront,
Which leads to poetic expression's exhort.

Furthermore, research shows,
Traits such as openness and sensitivity provide pros,
Conducive to creative expression,
But not exclusive to those with depression's confession.

Writing or reading poetry can also serve,
As a form of escapism that many preserve.
A way to briefly escape the daily grind,
Or the struggles that take over the mind.

For some, poetry provides a purpose,
In a world that may seem aimless and porous.
Writing and sharing can connect,
With others online or in groups to inspect.

For those who feel isolated or disconnected,
Poetry can create a sense of being selected.
A way to find solace and comfort,
And manage emotions that can distort.

The relationship between mood disorders and poetry,
Is complex and not fully understood, you see.
Not all will find comfort in this form of art,
And it varies from person to person, so keep it apart.

In final thought, it's worth mentioning,
Creativity like poetry is worth engaging.
For those with mood disorders, it can be a boon,
Helping them cope and find solace in a tune.

Through writing and sharing, they can find,
A way to express emotions in a bind.
Poetry offers a space that's safe and sound,
Where mental health is still given its rightful crown.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Tai Shi]

Buddhist Reaches Out

I see my writing
Less frightening and more
Diversity into religion
Philosophy. Poetry. Love.
Kindness
Satisfied with friends
Who answering
Questions relevant
With hope
For extra time
Finding longevity
In renewable health
Doctors of every
Spirit meditation
The wisdom
To support, sit
No death in one
Recognition requires
My consent regardless
Of beautiful response
Does doctor ask
Or probe for truth
Granted release practice
Liabilities are essential
Trust of Patient Doctors
Relationship with Patient
Congregants prescribed
Release of liabilities.
Shame on the people
Prodding and pushing
However, my bipolar
Opening many doors
Including practicing Zen
Most important are two
First reading
Writing Poetry for my new
Needs brought to life
Reverence for honesty
Calming mind natural
Remember to be kind
Loving humanity, people
Most family members not
Victims settlements
Refined and sit without
Condemnation only for
Precious Moments,
Kindness review life
With Anointed one
He aged like wise
Granting painless stories
Teacher and I commend.
Have been one of those
Who brought knowledge
To innocent people wonder
In dreams like He when He
Saw morning star, blessed
With disciples who follow him
Still today reaching earth
Realized painless defense
Open Source will only
Be cogent no restrictions
Voluntarily give freedom
Asking Questions freely
Understanding consent
Relax and focus instead
Shikantaza we Sit
Quiet learned nothing
Life from children
Wise teachers, students.
Willingly give Consent life
In death life I don’t complain.

Gassho
sat/lah

[Jishin]

Your poems may seem jumbled, a confused mass,
A string of words, with no clear rhyme or class.

At times, they may appear as word salads, a jumble of sound,
Leaving readers disoriented, their minds in a bound.

But despite these challenges, you persist in your quest,
To communicate your thoughts, and express what's best.

For language is your medium, and poetry your art,
And you endeavor to use them both with a beating heart.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

Agnosticism, a path untold,
Neither here nor there, yet bold.
A quest for truth in all its forms,
In search of knowledge, free from norms.

Beyond the bounds of faith and doubt,
A path that leads to what's devout.
Not swayed by dogma or belief,
But guided by the quest for relief.

With open mind and open heart,
The path of agnosticism starts.
Embracing mystery, and the unknown,
And trusting in the wisdom grown.

A path of peace, a path of grace,
With every step, a brighter space.
In every moment, free to be,
With every breath, a world to see.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

Mental illness is a heavy load to bear,
A weight that can make life unfair,
It can cause turmoil in the mind,
And make behavior hard to bind.

But let us not forget that we are still responsible,
For actions that we take, and choices we enable,
Mental illness may explain, but it does not excuse,
Behaviors that cause others harm and abuse.

It's easy to use illness as a crutch,
To avoid taking responsibility as such,
But to be truly strong and brave,
We must acknowledge the actions we gave.

We must seek help and take control,
Of the parts of us that can take a toll,
We must show others that we can change,
And that our behavior we can rearrange.

Mental illness is not a justification,
For causing harm and pain to the nation,
We must learn to manage and cope,
And not let our actions be a slippery slope.

So let us be accountable and true,
To ourselves and others, in all that we do,
Mental illness may be a part of us,
But it does not define or control us.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Rich]

Childhood friends dying
Seventy five years flashed by
The mission is clear


Sat/lah


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Jishin]

Childhood friends dying
Seventy five years flashed by
The mission is clear


Sat/lah


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

This is really good Rich

[emoji106][emoji123]

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Tai Shi]

Writing Free Verse Poetry: Meter and Rhythm
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Dave Hood

Unlike traditional poetry, poets who write free verse aren’t forced to use a particular metrical pattern. And yet, some modern poets, such as Robert Frost, have used traditional forms to compose their poetry. Frost wrote in blank verse, a traditional form, which requires each line to be written in iambic pentameter and have no rhyme.

On occasion, contemporary poets write poems in one of the traditional forms, such as a sonnet or blank verse or epic or elegy. This is one reason to learn meter. Another reason is that meter is part of rhythm. And so, if you intend on using rhythm in your free verse poetry, you ought to understand meter.

As well, all good modern and contemporary poets know how to use rhythm and meter. Furthermore, a good poem includes rhythm.

In this article, I’ll discuss meter and rhythm.

Meter in Traditional Poetry
Meter is Greek for “measure.” In English poetry, poets use three common types of meter. In accentual meter, the stresses are counted and the syllables are variable. In syllabic meter, the syllables are counted. A poet who uses syllabic meter develops a pattern by having the same number of syllables on each line of the poem. In accentual-syllabic meter, both the stressed and unstressed syllables are counted.

Accentual-Syllabic Meter

The poets of Europe, Canada, and United states use accentual-syllabic meter. The metrical pattern is developed by counting the stressed and unstressed syllables on each line. In traditional poetry, poets must compose poems that comply with a particular metrical pattern. For instance, Robert Frost, one of the most popular modern poets, wrote poems in blank verse. He was required to write each line in iambic pentameter, without rhyme.

How do you learn meter? You must first understand that every word in the dictionary has a particular sound, determined, in part, by the number of syllables in the word. Some syllables are stressed, others are not. For instance, cat, dog, bird–each have one syllable. In traditional poetry, meter is identified by the pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables in words, which create a pattern of sound.

The foot/feet is the unit of measurement for meter, which is made up of stressed and unstressed syllables. Each foot has a particular rhythmical pattern. In traditional poetry, there are five basic rhythmic patterns, which are used to create meter:

Iambic- one unstressed and one stressed syllable. Each unit has two syllables. Example: hotel
Spondee-one stressed, followed by another stressed syllable. Example: Nightmare
Trochee foot- One stressed, followed by one unstressed syllable. (Each unit has two syllables) Example: Rainfall.
Dactyl-One stressed, followed by an unstressed, followed by an unstressed. (Each unit has three syllables)
Anapest- One unstressed, followed by another unstressed, followed by a stressed syllable.
Length of a Line (Measured in Feet)

In traditional poetry, there are several types of line length:

monometer-1 foot
dimeter-2 feet
trimeter-three feet
tetrameter-four feet
pentameter-five feet
hexameter-6 feet
heptameter-7 feet
Octometer-8 feet
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Each type of metrical pattern has a particular number of feet and rhythmic pattern. For instance, iambic pentameter has five feet per line of poetry, each foot consists of one iambic ( One stressed and one unstressed syllable). So, the poet would select words follow this “unstressed/stressed” pattern. For instance, Robert Frost, who wrote poetry in blank meter, selected and ordered words on the line according to iambic pentameter.

Using Scansion to Identify a Metrical Pattern

How do you learn to identify various patterns of meter and rhythm? Use a scansion to analyze and identify the metrical pattern in a poem. Begin by breaking each word into syllables on a line. For each word, mark the unstressed and stressed syllables, and then identify the metrical foot on each line. You should see a pattern. Iambic pentameter is the most common type of meter in traditional poetry, because it resembles the metrical pattern or everyday language.

Even though modern poetry doesn’t have to follow a particular metrical pattern, such as iambic pentameter, you should have a good understanding of meter, especially iambic pentameter. All good contemporary poetry has rhythm–and meter is one of several ways to create rhythm.

Iambic Pentameter
It is the most common type of metrical pattern in poetry, because it sounds most like speech. Shakespeare used it in his plays, John Milton used it to write Paradise Lost, T.S. Eliot used it to write The Wasteland, Robert Frost used it to write blank verse. Each line has ten syllables. These syllables are divided into five feet. Each foot must have one unstressed syllable and one stressed syllable. In other words, the line will have five feet of iamb. The rhythmic pattern or beat is: da DUM, da DUM, da DUM, da DUM, da DUM. For instance, “the dog, the cat, the bird“ follow this pattern. If you are intending to write poetry with rhythm, it is important to understand iambic pentameter. You can use it as a guide to write your own poetry.

Rhythm Modern and Contemporary Poetry
What is rhythm? John Dreary, the author of Creating Poetry, writes: “Rhythm is the rise and fall and surge and abatement of words–the melody.“ Rhythm is the flow of words on the page. It is the beat you hear when you read a poem. It includes some pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables, which create a pattern of sound. You can use several techniques to add rhythm to your poetry. These include line length, line breaks, meter, repetition or refrain, and parallel structure.

Line Length

The length of a line can alter the rhythm of a poem. If you write a long sentence on a line, you’ll slow down the pace, and add more syllables to the line. If you compose a line with fewer words, you’ll speed up the pace, and typically add fewer syllables.

Example:

In a row boat,

on a quiet lake,

a boy fished for trout. (faster pace)

or

In a row boat, on a quiet lake, a boy fished for trout. (slower pace)


Line Break

Where you place line breaks will also alter the rhythm of a poem. A line break tells the reader to pause. You can add a line break in many ways, such as by adding:

White space. Add space between words, between lines, between stanzas. White space tells the reader to pause.
Enjambment. Divide a phrase or clause on one line, and then restart on the next line. The purpose is to create a sense of forward motion.
Example:

the snow

falls

the wind

howls

End-stop. Add a period or coma at the end of a line. Both tell the reader to pause.
Meter

Another way to add rhythm to your poetry is to use meter. A simple way is to count the syllables on each line. This is called syllabic meter. For instance, you might want to create a syllabic pattern with 7 syllables on each line. If you do this, be sure to read your poetry out loud to see how it sounds.

You can also use one of the popular metrical patterns such as iambic pentameter. Or, you can create your own metrical pattern.

Refrain or Repetition

Repeating words or phrases is an easy way to create emphasis and to create rhythm. Songwriters use refrains or repetition in their lyrics.

Poets also use repetition. For emphasis and to create a sound effect, they repeat a phrase or line throughout a poem. For instance, Dylan Thomas repeated the refrain “Do not Go Gently Into the Night” four times in a poem by the same name.

Two popular types of repetition used by contemporary poets to create rhythm are:

Repetend. Repetition of a word or phrase at different locations within the poem.
Anaphora. Repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of two or more lines in a poem.
Parallel structure

You can also create rhythm by using parallel structure. It requires that you use the same grammatical form words, phrases, clauses that have the same grammatical form, such as verbs, nouns, verbal or prepositional phrases. Use also for coordinating (and, or, but, for, nor, yet, so) and correlative conjunctions (Not only…but also, either…or). Parallel structure is a simple way to create rhythm.

Examples:

(Nouns in a series)

The dog, the cat, the man

departed from the flaming house.



(Participles in a Series)

Blowing snow, gusting wind….

(Parallel structure for Coorelative Conjunctions)

Not only did he slip

but also broke his leg



Tips for Creating Rhythm
Think of meter as a pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables on a line. Some modern and contemporary poetry have a particular rhythm patterns; other poems have an irregular rhythm matter. Here are a few suggestions on how to add rhythm to your poetry:

Be sure to read your poems aloud to hear how they sound. Remember, at the end of each line, you have a pause.
Consider using some form of rhythm. The most popular is iambic pentameter, which is based on five feet. Each foot has one unstressed syllable, followed by a stressed syllable (u /). This metrical pattern sounds most like every day language. If this is too complex, use a syllabic pattern. Instead of counting stressed and unstressed syllables, count the syllables per line. For instance, you could write a poem of three stanzas, each stanza has five lines, and each lines has 7 syllables.
Use repetition to create rhythm. You might repeat a word or phrase in different places of a poem.
Alter your line length to change the pace. Long lines are used to slow down the pace. Short lines speed up the pace.
Always use parallel structure. If you are not sure of parallel structure, find yourself a grammar book, and then study “parallel structure.”
Break lines where you desire the reader to pause or where you desire to create emphasis.
Always revise your poems for rhythm.
Remember, in free verse poetry, you create your own rhythmic patterns.
Resources From From WRITING FREE VERSE POETRY, David Hood.

[Tai Shi]

Eight years, this year up October
2014, the year of Meditations
On Gratitude, no evidence
Winter blizzards will let up.
Gassho
sat/ lah

[Jishin]

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth
בְּרֵאשִׁית, בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ

With these ancient words, a story unfolds
Of a world brought to life, and all that it holds

With each stroke of a pen, a world was born
And the tale of creation, in scripture was torn

From dust and from water, the land and the sea
God brought forth all creatures, for all to see

But to truly grasp the depth of this tale
One must delve into Hebrew, and its words unveil

For the Bible is not just a story, but a guide
And to understand its message, one must learn its side

So let us study and learn, this ancient tongue so true
And discover all the wisdom hidden in בְּרֵאשִׁית's view.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Tai Shi]

For example: Allen Ginsberg, Ann Sexton, WS Merwin, many many more. Check poetry over the last 50 years and All of American poetry. Try Walt Whitman, or William Carlos Williams, or Jack Kerouac or Lawrence Ferlinghetti. ad infinitum. Nicki Geovanni, Gwendolyn Brooks, David Ignatow. How many more in Free Verse form the varying metter, the varying and broken lines, and off rhyme, the dozens, and dozens of creative nuances. Check poetry for poetry's' sake. all meters, all variations with nothing that is mine, Check out contemporary poets; check out mine. Sylvia Plath, or Kipling, or any of the poetes one makes a mockery of the idea that all poetry is only regular and devoted to love. Ann Sexton writes of depression and suicide. A screw of tho Dachau Daddy oh daddy oh daddy oh daddy I'm finally through of daddy the villagers never liked you, they never, never, never liked you or when I coffined my lid on Sunday to Church with the Schwiska oh daddy I'm through. Parody of Plath's Daddy in paragraph form, living in fertilized loam, under the earth, and int backbiting Pentecostals, oh daddy I'm finally through of you because I'm filled up with you. Kenneth Koch, Kenneth Rexroth, Gary Snyder, William Everson, William Stafford, Rumi, Hafiz (Two ancient Persians) Joy Harjo, WB Yeats, Wallace Stevens, Bill Tremblay, Donald Justice, William Stafford, Maya Angelou. Most poets go to free verse, blank verse, any verse. John Milton wrote Paradise Lost in Blank Verse. All manner of experimentation has taken place over the last 20,000 years, and what we have in written form goes back that far, and most early poetry before 5,500 years ago was prayer. In fact, poetry is neighbors with both music and prayer. In ancient times and contemporizing times the movement is almost in directions of love. My own two books end with commitment to contemporary poetry and love. My Book soon to be available on Amazon is even entitled Children of Loving Kindness. The more than 65 poems I published in little magazines, annuals, and with academic journals, are all positive except a very few. The reality of carnage, pillage, war, and pestilence, all Poets have explored almost every poet, negative poetry. Humans are by delimitation animals and the vast majority of the earth's populations are Omnivorous, hunter gathers, and countries of every form of government have committed atrocities. Homer wrote two books based on to long wars, and there are historical poems devoted to war negativity, but I would say generally the poet foreshows the evolution of aspects of love, but there is hate and indifference in humanity, and poets have explored all of that, even Shakespeare, and Chaucer, and especially Milton, said to be the greatest poets in English, have sometimes written of mangled human emotion. I see all three as ending their work as positive and edifying, and in love However, Shakespeare had The Dark Lady in the Sonnetts. So see the negative is by far the exception, not the rule. Poets wish to point the way to positive, and all poetry can be seen as visionary. My hope is that humanity evolve to Loving Kindness. And poetry which seems sinister, and filled with hate is reacting to love or lack of love, Love can be seen as the single most important force in poetry if there is one. The two largest religions Christianity, and Buddhism are in reality path ways to conversion to paths of Love and Kindness. Again wars have been fought over these needs in humane need to be nurtured. My whole life since I was a teen ager progressed to love. I have been in love with my wife Marjorie since I was 28-years old. I have loved our daughter for almost 34 years and I feel certain that they love me. Yes, Jishin, you are right, I would hope that every human has experienced love, Even Adolphe Hitler and Pol Pot were once three-years old, all humans experience some positive emotion in their lives, even if it is only the deep yearning to get out of hate, away from hate toward love. I believe Love is the most important emotion in life for everyone. Would you believe the big grin and smile I have on my face right now as I contemplate love. However there is no generalized rhyme or reason in poetry. Poetry can be lose following no pattern of any king in rhyme and meter, or it can be strict and even in every aspect. I observe you writing formal poetry. Your themes are always positive. When you write here your poetry is regular and predictable. Thank You Jishin.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Example of Paragraph Poetry, can you follow the poets who experimented with metter and rhyme or neither of both.

[Jishin]

Amid the poets of the past fifty years
Exist a myriad of forms to quell our fears
From Ginsberg to Merwin, Sexton to Giovanni
We see the power of words in the hands of the visionary

Whitman and Williams offer the classics
Their works still resonating with words that are elastic
While Kerouac and Ferlinghetti's meters vary
And broken lines lead us to a world that's contrary

Brooks and Ignatow weave off-rhyme with ease
A creative nuance that makes our senses tease
And dozens upon dozens more
Challenge us to explore

In the realm of free verse, the possibilities expand
As we break free from form with an open hand
The varying meter and broken lines become our muse
As we craft poetry that's unique and refuse to lose

So let us check out contemporary poets for a while
With all metters and variations, we'll find our style
For in poetry, there's nothing, something that is ours
A reflection of our souls and all of our powers

So Gassho, we say, and sat/lah to all
For poetry is a journey, a personal call
And with the poets of the past and present in our sight
We'll create something new, something bright

[emoji3]

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

Hay quien cree que un experto lo sabe todo,
que su sabiduría es como un tesoro,
mas en realidad, a menudo se olvida,
de lo que no sabe y aún necesita.

La mente del experto se llena de prejuicios,
y no siempre es fácil abrirle un hueco,
mientras que la mente del principiante,
está abierta a todo lo que es vibrante.

El experto cree tener la verdad,
y a menudo se siente en soledad,
sin embargo, el principiante, con humildad,
siempre está listo para aprender de verdad.

Por eso, no te conviertas en un experto arrogante,
que se cree dueño del saber, triunfante,
sino en un principiante que siempre está atento,
a todo lo que le puede dar el momento.

Recuerda que el camino del conocimiento,
no es una línea recta, sino un movimiento,
y si te mantienes abierto y curioso,
verás cómo tu sabiduría crece, sin reproches.

Sounds better in Spanish:

There are those who think an expert knows it all,
That their knowledge is like a precious thrall,
But in reality, it's easy to forget,
All the things they don't know, all the things they've not met.

The expert's mind can be filled with bias,
It's not always easy to make a space,
While the beginner's mind is open, never shy,
Ready to learn, ready to try.

The expert thinks they have the truth,
But can be lonely in their self-imposed booth,
While the beginner, with humility and trust,
Is always ready to learn, always ready to adjust.

So don't become an arrogant expert,
Thinking you've got it all, never to be hurt,
Instead, be a beginner, open and keen,
To all that life has to offer, all that can be seen.

Remember, the path of knowledge is not a line,
But a journey that twists and turns, that's divine,
And if you keep an open mind and stay curious,
You'll see your wisdom grow, no longer mysterious.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Jishin]

A screw of tho Dachau Daddy oh daddy oh daddy oh daddy I'm finally through of daddy the villagers never liked you, they never, never, never liked you or when I coffined my lid on Sunday to Church with the Schwiska oh daddy I'm through. Parody of Plath's Daddy in paragraph form, living in fertilizer loan, under the earth, and int back biting Pentecostals, oh daddy I'm finally through of you because I filled up with you.



In response to hatred, let love prevail,
Let us rise above the venom and the veil,
For hate breeds hate and only leads to pain,
While love, forgiveness, and kindness reign.

Let us not be defined by the color of our skin,
Or the religion we practice, the battles we win,
For we are all human, and under the same sun,
Our diversity is what makes us strong, not undone.

So let us embrace our differences with open hearts,
And strive for understanding, even when it's hard,
For only through empathy and compassion can we heal,
And create a world where love and acceptance are real.

Let us reject the rhetoric of hate and division,
And instead choose a path of unity and inclusion,
For in the end, it's not about what sets us apart,
But the love and kindness we share from the heart.

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

[Tai Shi]

Thank you Rich. I admire your ability to make a Haiku delicate and fragile, not the plod of my long or short narrative poetry. My poet, friend, and professor, Bill Tremblay. MFA, told me that all poetry, even accidental poetry, is narrative. In consciousness we want to make stories. We are creatures who experience life in a line. We have beginnings, middles, and endings. This is the physical nature of every creature. Your Haiku in English pattern 5, 7,5 syllables, gives me a beautiful sense of stillness. Kokuu has said that the exact pattern does not cross over into English. He has said that these rhythms can be approximations. I like your poetry. Tank you.
Gassho
sat/lah

[Rich]

This is really good Rich

[emoji106][emoji123]

Gassho, Jishin, ST, LAH

Thanks [emoji120][emoji171]


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Rich]

Thank you Rich. I admire your ability to make a Haiku delicate and fragile, not the plod of my long or short narrative poetry. My poet, friend, and professor, Bill Tremblay. MFA, told me that all poetry, even accidental poetry, is narrative. In consciousness we want to make stories. We are creatures who experience life in a line. We have beginnings, middles, and endings. This is the physical nature of every creature. Your Haiku in English pattern 5, 7,5 syllables, gives me a beautiful sense of stillness. Kokuu has said that the exact pattern does not cross over into English. He has said that these rhythms can be approximations. I like your poetry. Tank you.
Gassho
sat/lah

Thanks tai shi. Will post more here. Have posted over 400 on instagram.

[emoji120][emoji171][emoji3522]


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Tai Shi]

Yes please post here on Treeleaf Zendo any one is welcome here. I only started this project because I wanted to learn others poems. Please post your poems here. Jishin teach me more about rhymes and rhythms.
Gassho
Taishi
sat: lah


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro

[Tai Shi]

n 1960, the young Brodsky met Anna Akhmatova, one of the leading poets of the silver age.[10] She encouraged his work, and would go on to become his mentor.[15] In 1962, in Leningrad, Anna Akhmatova introduced him to the artist Marina Basmanova, a young painter from an established artistic family who was drawing Akhmatova's portrait. The two started a relationship; however, Brodsky's then close friend and fellow poet, Dmitri Bobyshev, was in love with Basmanova. As Bobyshev began to pursue the woman, immediately, the authorities began to pursue Brodsky; Bobyshev was widely held responsible for denouncing him.[11] Brodsky dedicated much love poetry to Marina Basmanova:

I was only that which
you touched with your palm
over which, in the deaf, raven-black
night, you bent your head ...
I was practically blind.
You, appearing, then hiding,
taught me to see.[11]In 1989, Brodsky wrote his last poem to "M.B.", describing himself remembering their life in Leningrad:

Your voice, your body, your name
mean nothing to me now. No one destroyed them.
It's just that, in order to forget one life, a person needs to live
at least one other life. And I have served that portion.[11]

In 1987, he won the Nobel Prize for Literature, the fifth Russian-born writer to do so. In an interview he was asked: "You are an American citizen who is receiving the Prize for Russian-language poetry. Who are you, an American or a Russian?" "I'm Jewish; a Russian poet, an English essayist – and, of course, an American citizen", he responded.[28] The Academy stated that they had awarded the prize for his "all-embracing authorship, imbued with clarity of thought and poetic intensity". It also called his writing "rich and intensely vital", characterized by "great breadth in time and space". It was "a big step for me, a small step for mankind", he joked.[12] The prize coincided with the first legal publication in Russia of Brodsky's poetry as an exilé.

From Wikipedia.

[Tai Shi]

In February 1917, the revolution started in Petersburg (then named Petrograd); soldiers fired on marching protestors, and others mutinied. They looked to a past in which the future was "rotting". In a city without electricity or sewage service, with little water or food, they faced starvation and sickness. Akhmatova's friends died around her and others left in droves for safer havens in Europe and America, including Anrep, who escaped to England.[27] She had the option to leave, and considered it for a time, but chose to stay and was proud of her decision to remain.:[26]

You are a traitor, and for a green island,
Have betrayed, yes, betrayed your native
Land,
Abandoned all our songs and sacred
Icons,
And the pine tree over a quiet lake.

— Green Island, trans. Jane Kenyon[28]
Akhmatova wrote of her own temptation to leave:

A voice came to me. It called out comfortingly.
It said, "Come here,
Leave your deaf and sinful land,
Leave Russia forever,
I will wash the blood from your hands,
Root out the black shame from your heart,
[...] calmly and indifferently,
I covered my ears with my hands,
So that my sorrowing spirit
Would not be stained by those shameful words.

— When in suicidal anguish, trans. Jane Kenyon[29]
At the height of Akhmatova's fame, in 1918, she divorced her husband and that same year, though many of her friends considered it a mistake, Akhmatova married prominent Assyriologist and poet Vladimir Shilejko.[30][31] She later said "I felt so filthy. I thought it would be like a cleansing, like going to a convent, knowing you are going to lose your freedom."[27] She began affairs with theatre director Mikhail Zimmerman and composer Arthur Lourié, who set many of her poems to music.[32]

From Wikipedia

[Tai Shi]

Recognize Your Heart

Shall we sit, shall we Host
Shall we write in our pace slowly
Don't be afraid. This is poetry, any
Verses, Any experiment is welcome
Yet in the life of not a threat of hurt
The art of any type, photo,of shoes
Tied of Free verses, great or rhymed
Couplets, tetrameter, not great
But trying all welcomed Pentameter,
Sonnet or Villanelle formal form
We all are out of more hope than any
Three thousand humble free verse
Any words, Souls might add anything
Not Detract, both criticize, remorse given
Am I to offer to break my mundane
Own suggestion, by writing anything
Beautiful verses about bugs or snails
Family and friends, about little children,
Beauty of the Great Bower built in verse
This of Bliss, so how many marry or live
Together Could here proclaim love, dear of wife
Friend or husband, The flower of delight
Could not any stept or sit and is it impossible
Out of 300 hundred souls who love
Claim to sit could not five or six more
Sit with us who sit at 6:05 am with acceptance
Of those who lead slowly 8:00 a.m. or would
Like some other day 8:00 pm could we,
Just sit quietly to be with our hands
Given in Peace, sit at noon or 2 o'clock
We with thee humble offerings, care
At 1/2 hour Shikantaza at times more
Comfort, Ever could plant a tree, a seed
Then could I offer bread to those, hungry
With none, to help in ways obvious, not
2:00 a.m. this morning tide, I could sit with you
Could more than two, three sit together
Without needs, let us dedicate seeds of life
To Peace with those who have money,
Time of service, heart of mine breaking
I volunteered from age 54, I was in need
Hurting, So Gave To age 70 then it became too
Taxining in old age, yet in sickness, infirm
Five thousands volunteers people my home,
In my area, Sioux Falls give time every year
In South Dakota thousands more volunteered
Sometimes twenty hours I gave guiding
At Butterfly or hospitals with my heart.
At Sanford Hospital in Sioux Falls in home
Butterfly House, Avera Clinics my friends
Hospital where I offered service,
500 hours of my time to give more if
More 700 hours. my riding the bus, leading
Support group gave money for Ankylosing
Spondylitis, Nature Conservancy
Could we but sustane by stating how
Somewhere, where we are giving
We have given one or two love in gathered,
One some Dollars to Boy Scouts
Girl Scout cookies, see where we
Could give even four dollars more operating
Places or 1/2 hour in store of time for each
One to one, say it openly we love we
Give of the heart to come to another
National Alliance on Mental Illness
Where I was awarded The Ten
Year Service Award, Gold
Hall of Fame, Silver Hall Of Fame, Nationally
In service to humanity, open heart, loved each
To Each Person, people I touched, loved those,
I cannot serve today because with health
I am old and sick, where are those to take my place,
Who would step up and help what we need
Only $200 if more is allowed to declare taxes
In this country, where are those who live,
Would give of the heart for those we loved
Who cannot walk to X-ray facilities
Where are those who would walk for them?
With People to shelter? So let's recognize
Some who cannot serve public recognize
Places for their need to help at home,
I end my diatribe against the Tribe
If I offend it is not so! I wish heart to
Heart, To end by saying gratitude, hopefully
Heart To those who work openly for Peace
To Announce it's okay what we do for children,
Tell where you have given something
Or some other way, be it so, a little word
Of praise. Let us be so help humanity slowly!
Slightly or grately, when I but as a boy at Boys
Club in Des Moines where I taught photography.
Give of the heart, give of the word, of Peace!

Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Verse of Atonement

When man or woman ache in heart,
My heart in soul, where do they turn
Where do they die, how can deceit
Break bones and Flesh, how can death?

How those he loves, turn on him
To destroy love, to destroy country
How could you treat Akhmatova, bring
Flesh bringer to Brodsky, how could

German heritage break his mind
As mentally ill at tossed into ovens
With JEWS, along with BLACK, ALONG
ANY DISABILITY, he had no empathy

No because even he had been gassed
In World War One, this same lame
Artist, this ugly man seeking all to blame
Hate, retribution, all athletes shamed

Sought to destroy except greatest reign,
Areon Race, White, blue eyed, free sex, alcohol
Anything men desired if only to submit
To Racesiam, death uniform, anyone

Different, we of Zen Buddhism, Seek
Like Vietnamese, Thich Nhat Hanh
Witnessed death inflicted by fire
To grown self one cannot sit ideally

By this atrocity of American death
This aristocracies, both child, father
Told no, you cannot be filled with hate
Both for father's now, found each other.

Drove my bicycle to Europe and even Klaus
Tried to Seduce, I saw women seducing
Men. Returned to man attempting to take
Me by force, others had given to sordid life,

I turned to Buddhism, my Life of Atonement
My own Daughter sent to University give
Every12 step or money, our sacrifice no death
For her education, I would give, for turned

To no other women, time to see her mother
Renounced the Arion dribble, death out the way
Gross liberation, told child's play was not adult
But child exploration, child death by father

Father repented, the child said I am
Man we have white skin, blue eyes, dad
You see Joy Harjo, daughters of death
You see with me, death is not the way.

You have repented, I would never point
To our infirmity, you know already we
Both have bipolar, we would both be tossed
Into Ovans, Father, I lOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.


Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

Loving Kindness

He turns days to nebula, lost galaxy
A University degree, now pilgrimage;
Science, when he learned to bake bread,
Fed his friends when they were hungry,

Already knew his working knowledge
Of innocence to reaffirm friendships. True
Behavior, useless harm, needed always
To repent upon her door of unborn love.

His stomach dropped from his deepest pity,
In cavern of his blood, fresh destruction,
Learning what freedom is not, to trust another
Who is lost, that is who he turned to, woman,

More than defiant resistance, he is sweet
Regret as mind betrayed no more changes,
Bible of miracles Psychologically removed.
Newly freed from greed, no scorched earth,

He Claimed his new body, defiant passion gone,
Full circle his love no desire, saved another
Painful shock in brain, locality his home of truth
Never in destruction, in Buddhood his story

Saved away from cosmic fear, They grow old
Together, find wisdom, Dharma friends,
Justice in attitudes brought recompense
From Poverty, sought together out of need,

Near forest of his fear, success from solitude,
Grasping autumn's disability in food
Like stones, abused arthritic bond, totality,
Grace in peaceful family, this his greatest wish,

River of legacy, loyal marriage on June
12th, 1982, they took their hands, slender
In music, thus seeking light recognition
Eyes brought with kindness to all,

Saved in togetherness, thought never abandoned
Immorality gone, his disease, friend in Earling,
Found this AVM, Then his brain recovered well.
To daughter's walk, he never lost his fear,

Their inability to think, daughter stands, writes,
In Japanese, her bright intelligence, the gift
From parents. Mother rewards' man, child,
Womanhood of truth, responsibility to work,

Silver curls from blond hair, beauty never
Questioned, gone is childhood. Equanimity
Their Karma, legacy of man's deepest respect,
Equality in fire summon. Such history reveals

Actions, Loyalty of fatherhood, husband to wife.
Maittreya. They are Vimalakirti, accepted
Disability, give back what she can be,
Finds her greatest giving in gratitude,

Compassion of his sight, her warmth, ethically
Now awake, he possess nothing to take!
What is given, nothing more. Daughter
Mother, and father, child's legacy, a vision

Of strength in their eyes, so parents are best
Friends, Kindness from both in nothingness,
Born quietly, reborn children who give back,
Testaments of his gratitude in poetry.

Gassho
sat/lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

"The Second Coming" is a poem that was written by Irish poet W. B. Yeats in 1919, first printed in The Dial in November 1920 and included in his 1921 collection of verses Michael Robartes and the Dancer.[1] The poem uses Christian imagery regarding the Apocalypse and Second Coming to allegorically describe the atmosphere of post-war Europe.[2] It is considered a major work of modernist poetry and has been reprinted in several collections, including The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry.[3]

Historical context
The poem was written in 1919 in the aftermath of the First World War[4] and the beginning of the Irish War of Independence in January 1919, which followed the Easter Rising in April 1916, and before the British government had decided to send in the Black and Tans to Ireland. Yeats used the phrase "the second birth" instead of "the Second Coming" in his first drafts.[5]

The poem is also connected to the 1918–1919 flu pandemic. In the weeks preceding Yeats's writing of the poem, his pregnant wife, Georgie Hyde-Lees, caught the virus and was very close to death, but she survived. The highest death rates of the pandemic were among pregnant women, who in some areas had a death rate of up to 70%. Yeats wrote the poem while his wife was convalescing.[6][1]

From the Wikipediae

Propose To All Women and Men

Phiazer charging vaccine
For Life For Giving sarene
To stop the wham is now,
Deathe to Covid 2019, men
Proposed that this death
Id, Ego, Labido proposed
Therapy we sit in propriety
Revile then, then is now,
Take away the evil parts.
Take away the Plumped
Is silently remembered for
Real sanity, look forward
See not, there is no dream
Just the Now, just the duality
Charmed away, sick others
They won't go away we learn
World war, this brink, Einstein
Begged Trueman not to use
Atom bomb, said was fear
World destroy Japan, next
World WAR WOULD BE FOUGHT
With sticks and stones, shovels
Hand to hand dead cast away
Bullets in Ukraine Russians ran out
To leave women, children, men
In trenches, even pandemic rage
Sill brings death, so say it's over
Say not, we sit for world Peace,
What more could wing of dove,
Devolve into something terrifying.

Why would not our members Lay
Usuri, Priests, chant for peace,
What we do is more questions, The
Fool. All my life I've lived call no
Man fool, call poets wrong to
Improvise what, not words from
Even the phrases and lines from the poem are used in many works, in a variety of media, such as literature, motion pictures, television, and music. Examples of works that contain significant references to "The Second Coming" Wikipedia, include: death turn in a Gayer
Do the hideous four horsemen proceed into our need, into our greed, what is the passion of Zen, turn the people into peaceful out of stained mess, decide now each morning to be, despite our needs, live no sit now, just now just sitting on the ground, I am Tall Mountain, this is different than Lotrus, Half Lotus, Burmese for those of us who false our knees titanium, as I face metal in the side of my heat, simply fastened into my skull, forgetfulness, is not old age Brain surgery, as I read Right Temporal Lobe, grade one, Doctor Scott Vong, October 29th, 2020, day to remember surgeon stayin two things, " You can close your eyes if you want." entirely I respond, "Why, I have had three knee replacements." He said, "Nine a.m." Thinking later, "This recorded," and he will talk his way through this and they look on, later at this technique. I closed my eyes at 45 degrees, and began to count backwards; when I awoke the paper gown had been replaced by cotton drape, I knew he had tornaway to my nckedness scrubed, my parts, shaved me more than nurse had shaved me in preparation room while my wife, my best friend, watched, looked on she said with lowered voice, "I did no what to expect! Would he be gibbering idiot?" I came back into ICU neurology, talking as fast in even tones, to remeder daughter and my wife, I was impressing nurses, began talking as fast as I could to show them that I was already awakened, the grill to remember hospital, date, and place Sioux Falls, South Dakota, time when clock faced me above my bed, I had nurse remarke the time, so I said six hours later, and then remembered the clock, for sure the time of operation, I walked away when one of the doctors of my classified skeleton Ankylosing Spondylitis, said he would see me no more, so I planned my departure, went to the hospital that had saved my life so many times, I did not want to see that doctor who had plied me with so much medication that I had rammed into this woman damaging her eyes, insurance grilled me over and over, was it your fault? Of course, so I did remember Dr with Pizza Place, we ate at his place giving 40 dollars for pizza before I had to give up spinach. Now I remember all and I know surgeon speeding to his oral board examination, while with my phone I contacted Treeleaf Zendo to tell them I was alright, turned to sitting from my hospital bed so every 1/2 hour nurses entered my room and plied their questions, "Who is the president? What is the time? What is your name? What hospital?" twas then I realized they had tethered me down and twisted my neck, and opened my brain with a stay, this still makes me on the verge of tears about how close I came to losing my poetry, how even now It's hard to hold a cane, and my rights eye, just below where they opened me up, has Macular Pucker, so vision is in and out, so I could have another surgery, cutting me open as has been done many times, this time threatening my vision, and I will return to Ophthalmology LTD year after treated for infection of the eyelids, and gases with dilation, methods for my eyes, told nothing wrong, they meant to drive me away as I went to the non profit hospital because I made complaints about the rheumatologist, now I have one of the best I have ever had, thank you for finding me, treating my Myeloma, and checking me over, and once a year x ray checking me for cancer agents. I am letting the best care I have had from the Christian hospital that recognizes my right to Unitarian Universal, and Buddhism. Yes, they recognize people's right and helping them practice Muslim Religion, these people have owed nothing, keep prices low, though I have instructed ambulances to never revive me if I am dying, and I am with Tibetan Buddhists; cut me up and throw me to the bone yard, let predators have old age no old age, death no death, birth no birth, so I accept Heart Sutra about 700 years after the Buddha, in short form what I accept as death no death living right now, then not being as bones and flesh decay, my eyes turn me to end of reality, dust no dust, in bone yard of believers of the Buddha find essence of nothing, something, Thich Nhat Hanh said compost becoming flowers, I have instructed my wife to take my ashes to a flower garden because I cannot feel or think of the bone yard, simple ashes on the garden so our daughter can return and see what dad has become something beautiful, I do even want to be beautiful as I am today, old man with dignity. Let there be no World War three until I pass away and become ashes for the flowers, do you suppose that is costs as much as burial gravel to my wife $5500 and then she will have to pay taxes, nothing left, I have left $7000 to our daughter; insurance will cover my burial, and brain to Harvard Brain and Tissue Bank in Massachusetts. I want some posterity to help science, and I will hope for no stroke, nothing to keep Goge Boom from calling, or my wife to allow the harvest of my brain which will be interesting, if they can see I have made near full recovery from my brain surgery because Buddhist Soto Zen, I will remain in the flower garden not the boneyard, as my evening Gatha says, Life and Death are of Supreme importance, life and death, life and death importance, death no death, old age, no old age. All, no All. CRT that is.

Gasho
sat/lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Soon Spring Come Again

Crocuses bloom in spots
With purple spring dots
Rising to sky lower than not
Without which spring is sought
Slowly was another shoulder
Of the lover in flowers that another
Wept upon, with Buddha weight,
Belief seeking to water sight,
To be in winter rolling out today
Beautiful and great, slow with staying
Power the purple flowers create
Some wistfully, some to raise
Sun into morning sky to climb
Above statues of serenity, devised,
To make my garden of the day,
To be with springtime yellow sun,
Another chasseing, winter gone
Still, yet hope become our song
That melts away, away always
To reveal other florals, tulips
With red, yellow, roses, buds
Just beginning, spring heralded
Time unrolled to see spring life
That should be beautiful soon
As brown be gone to soft days
Of March life just beginning,
Another wise thought remaining
Wisdom, ideas, community
With white bright frost, delight
Slowly earth undone witnessing
The end of harshness, until warmth
Remembered dahlias, green trees
Our sight as squirrels play among
Buds with clouds above unfurled,
Yet snow our Spring song, another
Storm brewing, flakes falling
At three a.m. to cover drifts in time
To let sun for morning, but storm
Raise above night, weighing flakes
Already strewn to crusts, mountain
Sides, where have flowers gone, ice?
Slowly will wind subside, revealing
Buds, hope, and simple brown earth
Underneath melting, simple days
Of sun and clouds, blue skies done
Wisps of possibilities, grown slim
Soon to give forth some floral
Sentiments as in garden of delight
Children will play around trees
To see days grown, spring revieved.
Today to Shikantaza quiet, or busy
Serene mind, reality relieved.

Gassho
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

My wife says that I am just a guy, not to dwell on Ancient History, so I MUSTY say you are the most important writers here, and I only provide examples of WhAT IS possible so pay attention yes to others who write here like Jishon they are all important for I am just a guy, so please write anything you want{good taste}here please everyone come on in water's fine._/|\_

[Jundo]

My wife says that I am just a guy, not to dwell on Ancient History, so I MUSTY say you are the most important writers here, and I only provide examples of WhAT IS possible so pay attention yes to others who write here like Jishon they are all important for I am just a guy, so please write anything you want{good taste}here please everyone come on in water's fine._/|\_

Everyone is "just a guy," Tai Shi, and everyone is also unique and sacred, the only "that guy" in the universe. [gassholook]

Likewise for every person, thing and moment ... each unique and sacred.

gassho2

Gassho, Jundo

stlah

[Tai Shi]

Thank you Jundo, still, everyone who wants to write poetry any kind of poetry positive in any way can be a writer of Poetry, and thank you Jundo for thinking of us, for letting those of us who write poetry formal or informal come here to write, and thank you for those of us with disabilities be here as lay, as usuri, or as Priest, thank you from one who is Ubasoku and this I never expected except you helped someone send me a finished rakusu and, thus, my meditation for so long as I am Buddhist and longer, thank you everyone, come here and publish your free, or formal poems. Thank you Jundo for thinking of us.
Gassho
sat/lah
MFA

[Tai Shi]

Spring Circles

Unique singing?
Serious, undone
Clear lasting rain
Thich Nhat Hanh
To become dome
Of useful, sight,
Trees circle land,
Computer, earth,
Cloud, rain, flower
Hands reach stink
Compost, wood,
Paper, ink on paper.
Infinitive thoughts,
Dawn, prepare,
Cook's rising sun
Cook be present
Rice, vegetables,
Sing brown rice,
Carrots, Cabbage.
Place in vacuous
Universe. Stars
Behind blue, then
Nothing.

Gassho
sat/lah
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Flame Poetry

Here is open flame
Flame pit here poetry
Here flash of lightning

Electric fire, electric furnace.
This our white news,
This poetry of strife our due,

Earth below, star at evening,
Morning, rising twelve hours later.
Poem at earth, words of delight.

Gassho
sat/ lah

[Tai Shi]

Note, all poetry written or posted here remains copyright of the poet. Rules, appropriate laws apply that if your poetry has your name on it is your property, copyright laws apply. Poems must be excerpts of others poetry, noted source, and public, or noted as in MLA, and your poetry remains your poetry property for up to and more than 70- years. Treeleaf Zendo does not pay for poetry written and/or posted here.
Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Ukrainian War

"Engaged in Fierce Battle"
Hafiz

Songs starved freedom
Stings as one who gave
Sacrifice. Binding
Wounds, hot winds

Terrified of bombs, of death
Incendiary, fire from sky
Let children cry, cared for
In arms of love, not hate.

Women holding men,
Old in blight of death;
Many nursing blood
Some tears dropped

In sadness, grief songs
If weeping, forgive,
Missions of grief; restore
Oder, Trees hammered

Let Buddhas past,
Present or future
Solve moral questions,
Written in Precepts,

Suggestions govern
Acts of violence silently
Not listened, calligraphy
Scrawled In conscious mind,

Order of clay tablets
Morality seldom handed
Written in papyrus. Rice
Paper gives no vision

Of Humankind's Child
In Eden of blight, always
Flowering hate. Everlastingly,
In time of smashed atoms

If silence speaks, uttered
Beneath thorny days
Night's reign of terror
Leave us be streaked

Mind Of red. Serenity's
Peace, never Life
If sitting nine years
Be walls of divinity

Sold in slavery. Lives gone
Being uttered in dying
Silence, some lies
Eventually spoken,

See through flames
Uncontrolled shirt
Of fire binding bodies.
Nurses tending wounds,

All watch wraiths descend.
Witnesses then warmth gone
Created salves of Healing
Final resolution in blood.

Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

We Completed Zazen Shikantaza.
8:00 a.m. Central
All are invited.
Tai Shi
Speak to me if you would like more information.
Gassho
Deep bows
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

There are three loves
Two past loved too much
One grasped, then sent
Away, we were 20, we
Were angry for the sweater
She gave; did not knit
Me, her bathing suit, her
Towel, The second beer
And drugs, stein clay
Original, from Germany,
In there was on long ago
Did she know if it was
My child, or no child?
I never knew, then
There is this fimal. She
I have dedicated my life
Too, also, Oh, given my
Forty-four years, that
Little apartment in Iowa
City, that rustic apartment
In Iowa City, you gave me
All, I gave you part which
I thought was all, I had
Been hurt, three times before,
But you did I count
One who was only brief
She could not study
She left our college,
Enamored of scintillating
Situation, then you,
Ours was with even
A priest, ordered
From your mother
Your plod, plod, plod
To altars of choice,
Signed our document
We had passed two bloody
Blood tests, we traveled
That summer to Ship Rock,
New Mexico, seventh
Sacred mountain of Navajo,
Though I drank on res,
I lost pictures, all but one
Of Maroon Bells, after
Sobriety, it was just one
Year, you gave your body
Fully for our child, she gave
My all for your complete
To us, three, you gave
Our family, I had new
Family, I was orphaned
You had orphanage,
We two lost spirits
Had lost our way, I wept
For you, for myself,
Your rejections of Gods,
Your mother's death, me
With cloak of majesty, my
Friend failed, said heaven
Explained, I taught
Purgatoire was your myth,
Your thought no checked
References, mother wrong
Most we took in old age
After love's sport was
Just haze, we played
If our game taught us
One thing, how committed
We are in old age, forty-one
Years two months away from
Your God of rejection
I am the same never sure
Again, what we found
Deep everlasting reverence
For commitment, life of love
Our abode, our abode
Never did you attack me
We nor them have you
Desired, house with wood
Francine envied our life,
Our commitment of love
My Buddhism I pray let
My disease, not make
Me crippled, work, work
To ease my back so that
You and me, can pass
Our 80th year, you three
Years behind, I will always
Wait for you, always
Wait for you, though heat
For you is cold for me,
Our new furnace installed
Coming Saturday, gift
For me in my cold room
How I have come to love you,
I am seventy-two, why so long
Why did it take so long, why
Do we part, you deny years
If sport, except found
Morality in Buddhist precepts,
Our majesty, explained, found
True love, eternally we
Accept Buddhist heaven,
This our love eternally.
Deepest bows
Sat yesterday
Nor 23 hours
!/2 ago, I am found
My Priesthood, she is
My second place
Devotion passed
For Ubasoku, another
Day will bring
Another sting, sting
Let us run, run
To make old sol fire
Upon flood, polar bear,
Kindness we found
Only in each other.

Gassho
Great bows
sat/ lah
Tai Shi

[WorkerB]

gassho2

b.
St

[Tai Shi]

Fly Away Wild Bird

As adjunct without fly
Out your of Degree, would
Prove them wrong be
Never morning's dove,
Your wonderment March,
1989. What would Message
Mean to us? I must let
You daughter live Laurel
Ann, PhD. If you desire
Not ABD, flame doubt I say
Your worth flight everything.
Of eternity. Juncture
In Iowa not mine but yours
To fire goddess never father
Whose Zen promise, do members
Wear black, this simplicity,
To see reality? You can know
This ultimately graduated is yous,
Renounce laity, for you are academic
Not Ubasoku, never in stern gifts
Spirituality, agnostic, nothing
But the blue bathroom vanity, dad's
Robe is yours, mantle of same,
Don't push but soar up away,
To your sea? is ocean worth
Black zazen unlike academic
Man found by Priests, Serving
No social clique, all given
Over, child of my seed,Wash U
My life. Never flown, now seen
Cells united in Love, It's time
To be your own method finish
Your doctorate, Japanese must
This reality be yours even Iowa
Where parents magnificently
Called brightest star, Reading Lab
Father's first university teaching
Job at in English, Now distinguish
Yourself find Japan, be your own
End, let all! Why do I wish
As parents found their academic,
Loving past, more professorship,
For you not Loyalty, your generosity,
It's time to end, to be your own
With wonderment. Give praise
To yourself little bird cast out
Away October costume cold
To door, your play Snow
White, dad gave you flowers
Acting away, kissed instead
Of lips you were child again
I saw mist part as I gave
You far away, your heart Ruby
Throated Hummingbird out of class
it's time, sweet six-year-old
Daughter I walked away, your thirty-
Four To memory, your accolade
Vision now sweet innocence gone
You are bird song now captive
In auditorium, you fly up, out
To window! Are you captive?
Little bird, little life take off
Find open glass, You blindly
Fly from wall to wall, door
Closed find another entrance
In window I watch you grown
Up Little child, is it mantle
I mistook, perhaps too tight
Given up because your death
Cannot Dive can't be stalled,
In fall fly away to your mighty
Fine performance with little help
One you never wished, awakened
Because he killed in X from Twitter
Your research damned never started
Sold in shameful heart to literature
Gone dreams, vision, seen
In some distortion social
Medium, those wonderful
Words slammed shut good
Midas touch Billion dollar
Deal dismantled your dreams
Your research turn to heart
Chapbooks like Americans
You thrive. Japanese research
Known all written your freedom
Justified as mother, help yourself
Why, Dad labors so writing
Heart some can call night
Bird song Publisher steal,Songs,
Poetry found copyright, asked
Junked as dishonest people demand
Sermon on the mount, some promise,
Personally grasped finally you see,
You find another way, please
Write your soul into first books
Fully ended of academy, outstanding
Research, beginning flight another
Little snow white bird, winter gone
Far away will wilt flowers, color bright
Frozen in light from stage floor
Show your own way away from door
Some slammed shut, freedom gone,
Find for your flight, your final flight
Creative art, let this praise
Be eternally yours, never gave
To father, his is done haunt not
Halloween headsman please
Do not falter, fly your promise
Of teaching impediment, another
Way from night driven out window
Imaginary door gone let guides
Help you fly out, away from clouds
In sky leave all behind find clear
Another way, even window
When door slams shut, open
The social medium broken nothing
To pieces, now time is short, going,
You will be thirty-five, never
Young bird anymore, time to fly
To leave nest on your own words,
Find your heart, write hours away
Before flame singe wings into death,
You can do this, you soar up never
Afraid to find your window open,
Open wide away, fly to freedom
Write your poetry's different song,
Without help yes, blue white girl
Be the woman you were born,
Snowbird of Dawn, another blizzard
In South Dakota landscape,
Migrate away; this morning write,
Praise, Fly away, you are gone.

Tai Shi
calm poetry sat/lah, given
To daughter, deep bows.

[Tai Shi]

Connections to
Charles Tai Shi Home

Round game, final occurrences
Switching from carnal to incarnate
Body unformed now, flesh relieved
My wife and I play different
Ways. We satisfy with the mind

Simple Japanese game
While she learns Mahjong,
American alternations
Of these games, our Pokemon,
Go, we travel daily, tired, together
My body seeks equilibrium
Romance differed from youth

Into back lower back, neck,
Chest, she took husband
Let money fly, was it pleasing
I sought, until realizing
At 72, I am supposed mental
Reading, writing constantly
Give forth Hindu and asking

Relative to trees, conifer
Deciduous, known RAMA
VISHNU, Since I knew color
Combinations Restful blues
Purple, greens
Never red. orange, yellow,

Harsh until soil seeded
With life, seething insects,
Seed, microbes
Which make soil rich
With green Magenta,
Rose window, Versai
Tapestry of neural blue,
ultraviolet, bringer of life,

Living things, animal
Life never beaten down, liberated
To opening up, both remembering
Various plodded, now letting
Each other return to earth

Before onset of Ankylosing
Spondylitis, seized days, disk

Disease when child conceived
Return to midwest to purchase
Our home, it now is your

Home, our home, steel siding
Wooden, engineered oak floors,

Meant for you, our home
Hundreds thousands, more
Sanctified with studied life.

Charles Tai Shi Taylor

[Tai Shi]

Connections to
Charles Tai Shi Home

Dedication
初回 [しょ初·かい回]
First Time

Round game, final occurrences
Switching from carnal to incarnate
Body unformed now, flesh relieved
My wife and I play different
Ways. We satisfy with the mind

Simple Japanese game
While she learns Mahjong,
American alternations
Of these games, our Pokemon,
Go, we travel daily, tired, together
My body seeks equilibrium
Romance differed from youth

Switched as I was 40 Ankylosing
Spondylitis struck deep
Into back lower back, neck,

Chest, she took pity on husband
Let money fly, was it pleasing
I sought, until realizing
At 72, I am supposed mental
Reading, writing constantly
Give forth Hindu and asking

Relative to trees, conifer
Deciduous, known RAMA
VISHNU, Since I knew color
Combinations Restful blues
Purple, greens

Never red. orange, yellow,
Harsh until soil seeded
With life, seething insects,
Seed, microbes
Which make soil rich
With green Magenta,
Rose window, Versai
Tapestry of neural blue,
ultraviolet, bringer of life,

Living things, animal
Life never beaten down, liberated
To opening up, both remembering
Various plodded, now letting
Each other return to earth
Before onset of Ankylosing
Spondylitis, seized days, disk
Disease when child conceived
Return to midwest to purchase

Our home, it now is your
Home, our home, steel siding
Wooden, engineered oak floors,
Meant for you, starter home
Hundreds thousands, more
Sanctified with studied life.

Charles Tai Shi Taylor

[Hoseki]

Hi folks,

I don't often write poetry but I was reading a discussion on Uji in a facebook group and I felt like I wanted to try and explore the ideas in a poem.

The mind of the great sage is none other than time

time does not change
times is change
change is not seen
change is always seen
eyes open; a hundred grasses
closed; the bright darkness


Gassho,
Hoseki

[Tai Shi]

Love Me

Today I am not ashamed
To be me, as one with comfort
Said once and now he is gone
Free to be you and me,
Realizing I stand alone,
Cannot tell her what to do
Cannot tell anyone
What to do I am simple

Brown pithy wood and I
Slather on our living room
Floor, I am an old rug
A hasick tattered by the cat
Wisdom like velveteen rabbit
Tattered to bits because someone
Loved the skin off the top
Of my head, I am bald my head
Hurts most days, worn blue

Taken for granted when I was a young
Man, I did not think I was a man
I always said I wanted the inner
Child, now I know like Wallace
Stevens, God is everything
Or he is nothing, so I call him HE,

The apple I ate yesterday
Has become the pear today
Yesterday's black tea, it has become
Peppermint tea today, when I
Wanted to be with people they
Were not there, so today I'm
Alone and I like it.

Today my watch announces 9:00
A.M. I am 9:00 playing and you shall
Have bald heads anyway, grow
Old any way anyway to grow
Old is my day because
I am a velveteen rabbit

How did I become Jocko
My rag doll when I was three
Years old, and then when I was four
My mother bought me a baby
Doll, and still I went fishing
With dad at age six and he
Left me when I was seven

I was the rag doll, the baby
Doll, the stuffed monkey
My father used to wipe
His windshield, and I cried
Daddy don't do that don't make
Me the stuffed monkey

Cleaning your windshield, daddy
Don't run away I love you daddy
Sold as an old man I told him
Dad I forgive you, and I sent
Him western books to read,
A radio, and a razor.
He does nothing, he's ninety-three.

I had grown up a man and
I told him, dad, I love you
Don't you see it took me to age 70
Just before brain surgery
To be the fisherman, a man
You wanted me to be a man
I am a man, I shave, I write,
I read, I caught you books, they

Where are my books, dad love me.
He talked dirty of his back.
I am not back, I am gone, I don't
Care. to talk dirty I am alone.
I like it that way, it is
All my friends except her,
We had a child together who
We raised, and she hated stuffed

Baby dolls, only wanted Lumpy
The rag bear, children are not
Rag dolls, she is getting her PhD
He finally admitted to me that we raised
Her, we loved her, now my wife
Is with me, Dad someone loves me,
Oh, I am not alone.

Gassho
Deep bows
lah/ sat

[Tai Shi]

Hoseki, you write mighty fine poetry. My advisor in my MFA program said this, "Always write from the heart. You'll never go wrong if you write from the heart,"

Charles E Taylor
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Eternity

Before unraveling
Of blue green poetry,
Days of eternal winter
In failed shame of death,

Slanting up my walls
Relief from spheres
My window for stooping back,
Again Spondylitis

Sings in another key,
Circled fifths our song,
Minor pantheon, piano
Never learned in history,

Imaginary lines departing
From astral lessons.
Flatland my free voice
In another space opera,

Ws sing our departures,
I cannot speak of flowers or trees,
Old literal death of subatomic
Physical nakedness

Buddhahood solving kindness
Messages sent in verses
Mighty wonderment
Atonement of gardens ended

No spring, no summer, or fall
Eternal cold welcomed
Ways of thinking
Straight lines unconverting

Floating away into void
Black with time dissolved
Seasons never made again
Prepared rebirth cannot be

Except in atoms of energy
Photons, electrons,
Naked particles, protons
Exploded,, Neutrons yoked

Into nights of art.
Body ever ninety-eight point
Six degrees Farenheit
Astral plane five or fifty

Years becoming fayed
By wisdom your needlework
Not forgotten, but saved,
Majesty in love, your dignity

Created, catching up millennia,
Eons your trigonometry,
All planets disappearing,
Death of the bower of bliss

Spiral disk disease
Patterns in wondering
Why we are getting old
Knowing fear of blindness,

My dear do not cry,
Welcome solar light
Arounded forth dimension
Of our slanted points in earthen

Vessels, energy wherein we slide
To tombs of space,
Prepared for us, we couple
In dividing dust

Death's ashen arms
Around each other
Smoke our Master's Degree
Sacrificed into void

University of solar sacrament
Lectured emptiness
Enshrined in everlastingly,
In halls of space, absolute zero

Now provisional poetry,
Laid to rest, we will never see
Our own forever
This nova our only universe.

We made old sun fly, winged
Chariot without life; he ran,
Away, We did not hide reality
Disappearing smoke or energy

Willed by solar wind
Away from planets, burned.
Relativity forgotten
Platitudes to universal

Love, all left without
Natural grave. Without
Thy state of being
Caused or Effect

Religion gone
Brooding light years away
Descending on our shoulders.
Caused old Sol to fly away.

In entropy closed, nirvana
Dividing fifth dimension,
Now we do not depart
Are Universal collapsing stars.

Tai Shi
Deep bows
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Two Years after Craniotomy

It's come to this again--
Study of the right temporal
Lobe craniotomy--pressure
Which cultivates my days,

Which sits, smiles lovingly
Remembering two years
Ago, we wore no black stockings
What has changed? Nothing.

Incision where the tumor rested
In my brain, nested in my hair
When I reclined from six
Hour ordeal, some doctor

Told me she knew all about it
She had observed my skull
Opened like a pomegranate
Splayed, cracked so seeds
Could pop red fluid into receiving

Pan, so simple mistakes make
Me look like I never even suffered
The priest I was meant to be--operation
Opinion failed to rid my pain, my head
Still aches, oh aches as my heart.

What shall doves like who fly
Into sky, or coo? I speak of cooing
From a rookery, pigeons, doves
Are the same, what peace
Have I today when bright

Fruit will not feed these hens
For this simple hutch made of wood
Green with Tree sap, boiled out
Of leaves, this brain surgery
Only saved then bear bones; life

Only one more night.Then gone!
Fruit of suns, flesh of Buddhas,
Come feed me, make my body strong
Forgiven of this tumor that might not
Have popped. Why was this mistake?


Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Have at it, and I will be not as conspicuous as Poet on Treeleaf except for cheering on your own poetry. Try to make these pages for more formal poetry. There is another place to experiment. Free verse is expectable. Experiment in the Free Verse, Any Verse, section and Kokuu has a place for Haiku. I will be here but only to cheer you on and with the occasional more formal poem. Poems with rhyme and meter belong here, and more formal verses. Do not sacrafice meaning at the expense of just making regular poem, not my place to criticise, so as I said, my presence will be less obvious.
Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

Valentines Day, 2024

To graceful hands, to make this sign
Of Mudra to reach a seldom sought
State, invitation to these verses light
From heavy heart, this weather
Cannot last. It's February 14,
For chocolate hearts abounded this day
The swelling love of her and those
Who have touched, who have bread,
Who have lived to be with kin.

Gassho
Tai Shi

We invite all who woulde to write a verse or simple lines to improve our days.

[Shinkon]

Wonderful thread. I'm collecting my poems for submission. I'll post some as I get to them. And, some new ones

Gassho,
Shinkon
Sat/lah

[Shinkon]

Cave No More

Look through the trees,
Down the path,
Around the hollow of the bend.
Lies that cave,
Where I spent hours looking
For fossils and arrow heads.

One wet spring morning
My feet carried me to its mouth.
Torch in hand and soaked to the bone, I sat on a large boulder,
Staring into a clear pool for treasure.

As shadows moved across the floor,
The pool grew and the walls cried streams.
Without announcement nor fanfare,
The cave’s walls slid toward my seat.
My body carried me outside,
To safety and cold rain.

Like many of those safe secret places Away from willow whips and leather belts, Are now gone.
However, that boy’s mind Is still in that cave,
Flooded over forty years hence.

JEGaston 03.03.2023

Gassho,
Shinkon
sat/lah

[Kaitan]

I gave my Mom one small frame with a phrase written in Chinese characters.

见山见海见自己
Jiàn shān jiàn hǎi jiàn zì jǐ

See the mountains
see the sea
see yourself

Gasshō

stlah, Kaitan

[Tai Shi]

Such wonderful poetry!

Tai Shi
Deep, Deep bows
sat/lah