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Thread: ARTS: Big and Little Poetry--free verse, any verse.

  1. #151

    ARTS: Big and Little Poetry--free verse, any verse.

    Shawnzen, I appreciate your poetry and understanding what I was doing with you tonight as I get ready to go to bed. I understand your little gifts. Your big gifts. You made me care and look again for your name.
    Gassho
    sat/ lah
    Tai Shi


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro
    Last edited by Tai Shi; 06-04-2021 at 03:05 AM.
    "Nothing is so beautiful as spring--/ When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush: Thrush eggs look little low heavens, and thrush/ Through the echoing timber does not rise and wring/ The ear it strikes like lightening to hear him sing;.." Hopkins

  2. #152
    I love this verse because it reminds me of “the silent Zen verb” Jundo is always raving about. It’s a verse from ‘Elegía del silencio’ (July 1920) by Federico García Lorca

    en Espeñol:

    Huyendo del sonido
    eres sonido mismo,
    espectro de armonía,
    humo de grito y canto.
    Vienes para decirnos
    en las noches oscuras
    la palabra infinita
    sin aliento y sin labios.

    In English:

    Fleeing from sound
    you are sound itself:
    ghost of harmony,
    smoke of the cry and of song.
    On dark nights you come to us
    to whisper the infinite
    word without breath,
    without lips.

    And one from me:


    When just sitting
    The bottom falls out
    Nothing left
    But everything
    Whole and complete



    Gassho,
    Tom

    SatLah
    Last edited by StoBird; 06-06-2021 at 05:15 AM.

  3. #153
    Gift of my Buddha Nature

    He held in right hand, pen of left hand escaped then gone,
    Years before. fingers of tight, left hand useless. Pressure typed,
    He vowed to Compose no lines in bones. Instead in fine relief
    With this precious gems, his poetry washed of dead ash,

    From splashing wounds which crippled his great mind,
    When Darkness left, she created her own brilliant ideas, great
    Blackberry Winter, then his daughter born of travail, another work
    Husband's blessing spoken infinity of love for one to need life

    Silently much Greater mother for child, she carried quietly
    Little girl in quiet stillness brought motherhood to wonder
    Where baby would grow, how stillness she would be in his arms
    Lives given to books, gift for child who escaped with difficulty,

    Family final relief, both ways with words figured into details,
    Man with sobering thoughts, clean Rocky Mountains climbed,
    Woman with work monuments of motherhood, flowering motherhood
    In solitude as her child grew while she became thoughtful mother

    Gracious for her sober husband who decades together expected
    In more quiet manly, piety loud acts into air, days growing
    He slowly found his sight. Motherhood was beautiful. Careful
    He showed more than comfortable clothing with meaning

    They finally aged together after time wore on, singleness
    Together one family incarnation, realized with intention desired
    Her uncut flowers grew everywhere. laughter, perennials yearly
    Mothers Day Stylized in Joy, freedom to care for girl's life,

    Child's mind grew, he lost anger in him lost slowly to one,
    Habitual requirement of lost his in adulthood petty emotion
    from deftly drawing his mind lost in sixty-eight years
    With his own Mother, he worked day by day, was finally

    Father, never loneliness again, partner restored to lead song
    Not false wisdom, anguished in tranquility regained step by
    Step, money saved at his age ceasing death while she labored.
    Words Resumed full momentum in poems, serious laughter,

    Delight of Fourth Quartet days without his ratcheting stigma
    Power in sanity, ever mindful of his ways always, returned instead
    Of Wonder in St. Louis capturing lands where delicious gardens,
    Vineyard grew while French didn't weep when Tathagata's
    Kind word was quiet below his Bodhi Tree bringing stillness,

    Like morning stars, earthly touch. Then beams of The Sutras,
    Resurrection so Truthfully not endured, but combined, completed,
    These men and women naturally, Four Nobel Truths a gift
    Which husband embraced in arms distant like truth free, one's

    Simple eight fold path never stated, river crossed daily, implied
    Peacefully in precepts providing path undertaken instead
    Of delicate forced thinking. Companionship working today,
    With gratitude of joy, loyalty rising before simple work creations

    In glorified Haiku thinking scribbled words tumbling without books
    Forgotten like eight spokes of wheels rolling forth where Asoka
    Relived his battles in these publications forgotten earned degrees
    Charged every flame, every deftly wrong word edited out of suffering.

    Never where he sought found purity in writing, where are forms
    From his mind given to younger friends in gaining no fame. left
    To one dying of fatal fatigue syndrome or rheumatoid spine, rituals
    Of light for work, Freedom in spoken verses never silently made, lead

    Into ignorant of blue Skies, Pearls where Appassionato played
    Centuries before visions without distortion, they always wrote fine
    Poems of Loveliness, friendship secured his lines of surety, younger
    Played Brandenburg Violins, Gifts pf Alpines he passed on meadows,

    Mountain Trails traversed language where lupins fell, petals on shoulders.
    Wrought purple, blue lupins in memorized Deer Park, in Plumb Village
    In fall gold, red trees, another wise trees in Vermont, where spring days
    She played with owners friend, daughter finding self, different trails

    Her words greater Populated from free of daylight, each Discovery
    In great Criticism of Women in Literature wrong, long poems helped
    Hidden Deep social media meaning fear of lost meaning soon disappearing
    Gone after purge, nothing reached she found their when lines

    Divided The Heart Sutra lost enlightenment inspiration flooding
    Rivers, computers wrong, purged of intensive books gone, panic
    For posterity, each year, final gifts destroyed greatest lines, stories
    Prose, all Literature brilliant Daughters writing books, she saved this art.

    Parents gave life to their daughters greatest wish to write, their wish
    Finest rubies, daughter freedom Forty years after marriage vows,
    Parents aged, Laurel wreath, her own words of magnitude ageing now,
    To uncover young Japanese poems, prose more stories, completion.

    Then they could comprehend, daughter's gifts of equanimity realized
    More than desire above childish thinking, her own Shikantaza, Tai Shi's
    Poetry gifts of white flowers, great seeds, food of poems with hooded
    Certainty in honesty, transparency, words with blue translucency.

    Gassho
    lah/ sat

    06/14/2021
    Last edited by Tai Shi; 06-14-2021 at 10:48 PM. Reason: revision
    "Nothing is so beautiful as spring--/ When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush: Thrush eggs look little low heavens, and thrush/ Through the echoing timber does not rise and wring/ The ear it strikes like lightening to hear him sing;.." Hopkins

  4. #154
    Member Seikan's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2020
    Location
    Massachusetts, United States
    Beautiful verse Tai Shi! I love this.

    Gassho,
    Seikan

    -stlah-


    Sent from my Pixel 4a (5G) using Tapatalk
    聖簡 Seikan (Sacred Simplicity)

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