Man -- > Poem [Archive] - Page 15

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:24 AM

Poem

Desire and the Importance of Failing

A window opens.
A curtain pulls back.

The lamp of lovers connect,
not at their ceramic bases,
but in their lightedness.

No lover wants union with the Beloved
without the Beloved also wanting the lover.

Love makes the lover weak,
while the Beloved gets strong.

Lightning from here strikes there.
When you begin to love God, God
is loving you. A clapping sound
does not come from one hand.

A thirsty man calls out, 'Delicious water,
where are you?' while the water moans,
'Where is the water drinker?'

The thirst in our souls is the attraction
put out by the Water itself.

We belong to It,
and It to us.

God's wisdom made us lovers of one another.
In fact, all the particles of the world
are in love and looking for lovers.

Pieces of straw tremble
in the presence of amber.

We tremble like iron filings
welcoming the magnet.

Whatever that Presence gives us
we take in. Earth signs feed.
Water signs wash and freshen.
Air signs clear the atmosphere.
Fire signs jiggle the skillet,
so we cook without getting burnt.

And the Holy Spirit helps with everything,
like a young man trying to support a family.
We, like the man's young wife, stay home,
taking care of the house, nursing the children.

Spirit and matter work together like this,
in a division of labor.

Sweethearts kiss and taste the delight
before they slip into bed and mate.

The desire of each lover is
that the work of the other be perfected.
By this man-and-woman cooperation,
the world gets preserved.
Generation occurs.

Roses and blue arghawan flowers flower.
Night and day meet in a mutual hug.

So different, but they do love each other,
the day and the night, like family.

And without their mutual alternation
we would have no energy.

Every part of the cosmos is draws toward its mate.
The ground keeps talking to the body,
saying, 'Come back! It's better for you
down here where you came from.'

The streamwater calls to the moisture in the body.
The fiery aether whispers to the body's heat,
'I am your origin. Come with me.'
Seventy-two diseases are caused
by the various elements pulling inside the body.
Disease comes, and the organs
fall out of harmony.

We're like four different birds,
that each had one leg tied in
with the other birds.

A flopping bouguet of birds!
Death releases the binding, and they fly off,
but before that, their pulling is our pain.

Consider how the soul must be,
in the midst of these tensions,
feeling its own exalted pull.

My longing is more profound.
The birds want sweet green herbs
and the water running by.

I want the infinite! I want wisdom.
These birds want orchards and meadows
and vines with fruit on them.

I want a vast expansion.
They want profit and security
of having enough food.

Remember what the soul wants,
because in that, eternity
is wanting our souls!

Which is the meaning of the text,
They love That, and That loves them.

If I keep on explaining this,
the Mathnawi will run to eighty volumes!

The gist is: whatever anyone seeks,
that is seeking the seeker.

No matter if its animal,
or vegetable, or mineral.

Every bit of the universe
is filled with wanting,
and whatever any bit wants,
wants the wanter!

This subject must dissolve again.

Back to Sadri Jahan and the uneducated peasant
who loved him, so that gradually Sadri Jahan
loved the lowly man. But who really
attracted who, whoom, Huuuu?

Don't be presumptuous and say one or the other.
Close your lips. The mystery of loving
is God's sweetest secret.

Keep it. Bury it. Leave it here
where I leave it, drawn as I am
by the pull of the Puller
to something else.

You know how it is. Sometimes
we plan a trip to one place,
but something takes us to another.

When a horse is being broken, the trainer
pulls it in many different directions,
so the horse will come to know
what it is to be ridden.

The most beautiful and alert horse is one
completely attuned to the rider.

God fixes a passionate desire in you,
and then disappoints you.
God does that a hundred times!

God breaks the wings of one intention
and then gives you another,
cuts the rope of contriving,
so you'll remember your dependence.

But sometimes your plans work out!
You feel fulfilled and in control.

That's because, if you were always failing,
you might give up. But remember,
it is by failures that lovers
stay aware of how they are loved.

Failure is the key
to the kingdom within.

Your prayer should be, "Break the legs
of what I want to happen. Humiliate
my desire. Eat me like candy.
It's spring and finally
I have no will."

(Mathnawi, III, 4391 - 4472)

From 'Feeling the Shoulder of the Lion'
Translated by Coleman Barks

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:25 AM

Poem

IF

IF YOU CAN DISENTANGLE
yourself from your selfish self
all heavenly spirits
will stand ready to serve you

if you can finally hunt down
your own beastly self
you have the right
to claim Solomon's kingdom

you are that blessed soul who
belongs to the garden of paradise
is it fair to let yourself
fall apart in a shattered house

you are the bird of happiness
in the magic of existence
what a pity when you let
yourself be chained and caged

but if you can break free
from this dark prison named body
soon you will see
you are the sage and the fountain of life

translated by Nader Khalili

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:26 AM

Poem

It is your turn now

It is your turn now,
you waited, you were patient.
The time has come,
for us to polish you.
We will transform your inner pearl
into a house of fire.
You're a gold mine.
Did you know that,
hidden in the dirt of the earth?
It is your turn now,
to be placed in fire.
Let us cremate your impurities.

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi'
Translated by Sharam Shiva

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:27 AM

Poem

Look at Love...

Look at Love...
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how unknown merges into the known

why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

translated by Nader Khalili

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:27 AM

Poem

Love

Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?
Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
that root must be cherished with all one's might.
A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:28 AM

Poem

Lovers...

Lovers think they are looking for each other,
but there is only one search: wandering
This world is wandering that, both inside one
transparent sky. In here
there is no dogma and no heresy.
The miracle of Jesus is himself, not what he said or did
about the future, Forget the future.
I'd worship someone who could do that.
On the way you may want to look back, or not,
but if you can say "There's nothing ahead",
there will be nothing there.
Stretch your arms and take hold the cloth of your clothes
with both hands. The cure for pain is in the pain.
Good and bad are mixed. If you don't have both,
you don't belong with us.
When one of us gets lost, is not here, he must be inside us.
There's no place like that anywhere in the world.

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:29 AM

Poem

My dear friend

My dear friend
never lose hope
when the Beloved
sends you away.

If you're abandoned
if you're left hopeless
tomorrow for sure
you'll be called again.

If the door is shut
right in your face
keep waiting with patience
don't leave right away.

Seeing your patience
your love will soon
summon you with grace
raise you like a champion.

And if all the roads
end up in dead ends
you'll be shown the secret paths
no one will comprehend.

The beloved I know
will give with no qualms
to a puny ant
the kingdom of Solomon.

My heart has journeyed
many times around the world
but has never found
and will never find
such a Beloved again.

ah I better keep silence
I know this endless love
will surely arrive
for you and you and you.

trans. Nader Khalili.

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:30 AM

Poem

One Whisper of the Beloved

Lovers share a sacred decree –
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.

In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.

At times we flow toward the Beloved
like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor –
that is the job of the Beloved.

He breathes into my ear
until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul –
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?

He will melt your pride
making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.

We search for Him here and there
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
"O Beloved, where is the Beloved?"

Enough with such questions! –
Let silence take you to the core of life.

All your talk is worthless
When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.

Ode 442 trans. by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:32 AM

Poem

Only You

Only you
I choose among the entire world.
Is it fair of you
letting me be unhappy?

My heart is a pen in your hand.
It is all up to you
to write me happy or sad.

I see only what you reveal
and live as you say.
All my feelings have the color
you desire to paint.

From the beginning to the end,
no one but you.

Please make my future
better than the past.

When you hide I change
to a Godless person,
and when you appear,
I find my faith.

Don't expect to find
any more in me
than what you give.

Don't search for
hidden pockets because
I've shown you that
all I have is all you gave.

Trans. Nader Khalili

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:33 AM

Poem

Petals

Even when you tear its petals off one after another,
the rose keeps laughing and doesn't bend in pain.
"Why should I be afflicted because of a thorn?
It is the thorn which taught me how to laugh."
Whatever you lost through fate,
be certain that it saved you from pain.
A Sheikh was asked: "What is Sufism?"
He said: "To feel joy in the heart when sorrow appears."

From: "Breathing Truth" Trans. Muriel Maufroy

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:36 AM

Poem

The Body is Too Slow for Me

Toward the gardens,
Toward the orchards,
I am going.
If you want to stay here,
Stay here -
I am going!
My day is dark without His Face,
Toward that bright flame
I am going.

My soul is racing ahead of me.
It says, The body is too slow for me -
I am going.

The smell of apples arises
from the orchard of my soul.
One whiff and I am gone -
Toward a feast of apples
I am going.

A sudden wind won't blow me over.
Toward Him, like a mountain of iron,
I am going.

My shirt is ripped open
with the pain of loss.
Searching for a new life,
with my head held high,
I am going.

I am fire, though I seem like oil -
Seeking to be the fuel of His fire,
I am going.

I appear as a steady mountain
Yet bit by bit,
Toward that tiny opening
I am going.

Ode 1668 Version by Jonathan Star from a translation by Shahram Shiva "A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi"

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:38 AM

Poem

The Force of Friendship

A sea-cow, a dugong, finds a special pearl
and brings it up on land at night. By the light it gives off
the dugong can graze on hyacinths and lilies.

The excrement of the dugong is precious ambergris
because it eats such beauty. Anyone who feeds on Majesty
becomes eloquent. The bee, from mystic inspiration,
fills its rooms with honey.

So the dugong grazes at night in the pearl-glow.
Presently, a merchant comes and drops black loam
over the pearl, then hides behind a tree to watch.

The dugong surges about the meadow like a blind bull.
Twenty times it rushes at nothing, passing the mound
where the pearl is.

So Satan couldn't see
the spirit-center inside Adam.

God says, *Descend*,
and a huge pearl from Aden gets buried under dirt.
The merchant knows,
but the dugong doesn't.

Every clay-pile with a pearl inside
loves to be near any other clay-pile with a pearl,
but those without pearls cannot stand to be near
the hidden companionship.

Remember the mouse on the riverbank?
There's a love-string stretching into the water
hoping for the frog.

Suddenly a raven grips the mouse
and flies off. The frog too, from the riverbottom,
with one foot entangled in the invisible string,
follows, suspended in the air.
Amazed faces ask,
"*When did a raven ever go underwater
and catch a frog?*"
The frog answers,
"This is the force of Friendship."
What draws friends together
does not conform to Laws of Nature.
Form doesn't know about spiritual closeness.
If a grain of barley approaches a grain of wheat,
an ant must be carrying it. A black ant on black felt.
You can't see it, but if grains go toward each other,
it's there.

A hand shifts our birdcages around.
Some are brought closer. Some move apart.
Do not try to reason it out. Be conscious
of who draws you and who not.

Gabriel was always there with Jesus, lifting him
above the dark-blue vault, the night-fortress world,
just as the raven of longing carries the flying frog.

~Rumi Mathnawi, VI, 2922-2973
From 'This Longing' by Coleman Barks and John Moyne

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:39 AM

Poem

The Lovers

The Lovers
will drink wine night and day.
They will drink until they can
tear away the veils of intellect and
melt away the layers of shame and modesty.
When in Love,
body, mind, heart and soul don't even exist.
Become this,
fall in Love,
and you will not be separated again.

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi'
Translated by Sharam Shiva

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:39 AM

Poem

The Story of My Life

i was ready to tell
the story of my life
but the ripple of tears
and the agony of my heart
wouldn't let me

i began to stutter
saying a word here and there
and all along i felt
as tender as a crystal
ready to be shattered

in this stormy sea
we call life
all the big ships
come apart
board by board

how can i survive
riding a lonely
little boat
with no oars
and no arms

my boat did finally break
by the waves
and i broke free
as i tied myself
to a single board

though the panic is gone
i am now offended
why should i be so helpless
rising with one wave
and falling with the next

i don't know
if i am
nonexistence
while i exist
but i know for sure
when i am
i am not
but
when i am not
then i am

now how can i be
a skeptic
about the
resurrection and
coming to life again

since in this world
i have many times
like my own imagination
died and
been born again

that is why
after a long agonizing life
as a hunter
i finally let go and got
hunted down and became free

Ghazal 1419 Translated by Nader Khalili

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:42 AM

Poem

The time has come...

the time has come
to break all my promises
tear apart all chains
and cast away all advice

disassemble the heavens
link by link
and break at once
all lovers' ties
with the sword of death

put cotton inside
both my ears
and close them to
all words of wisdom

crash the door and
enter the chamber
where all sweet
things are hidden

how long can i
beg and bargain
for the things of this world
while love is waiting

how long before
i can rise beyond
how i am and
what i am

Ghazal 1591 Translated by Nader Khalili

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:43 AM

Poem

There is a candle in your heart...

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi' Translated by Sharam Shiva

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:44 AM

Poem

Time to go Home

Late and starting to rain,
it's time to go home.
We've wandered long enough
in empty buildings.
I know it's tempting to stay
and meet those new people.
I know it's even more sensible
to spend the night here with them,
but I want to go home.

We've seen enough beautiful places
with signs on them saying
This is God's House.That's seeing the
grain like the ants do,
without the work of harvesting.
Let's leave grazing to cows and go
where we know what everyone really intends,
where we can walk around without clothes on.

~ from: 'Open Secret' Trans Coleman Barks

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:45 AM

Poem

Whoever Brought Me Here, Will Have To Take Me Home.

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here, will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Trans. Coleman Barks.

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:46 AM

Poem

Without the eyes...

Without the eyes - two clouds - the lightning of the heart:
The fire of God's threat, how could it be allayed?
How would the herbage grow of union, sweet to taste?
How would the fountains all gush forth with water pure?
How would the rosebed tell its secret to the meadow?
How would the violet make contracts with jasmine?
How would the plane tree lift its hands in prayer, say?
How would the trees' heads toss free in the air of Love?
How would the blossoms shake their sleeves in days of spring
To shed their lovely coins about the garden wide?
How would the tulip's cheek be red like flames and blood?
How would the rose draw out its gold now from its purse?
How would the ringdoves call like seekers, "Where, oh where?"
How would the stork repeat his laklak from his soul,
To say: "O Helper high, Thine is the kingdom, Thine!"
How would the dust reveal the secrets of its heart?
How would the sky become a garden full of light?

Translated by Annemarie Schimmel

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:48 AM

Poem

You Worry Too Much

Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say,
I make you feel dizzy.
Of a little headache then,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your antelope.
Of seeing a lion here and there
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say, I am your moon-faced beauty.
Of the cycles of the moon and
passing of the years,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your source of passion,
I excite you.
Of playing into the Devils hand,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Look at yourself,
what you have become.
You are now a field of sugar canes,
why show that sour face to me?
You have tamed the
winged horse of Love.
Of a death of a donkey,
why do you worry?
You say that I keep you warm inside.
Then why this cold sigh?
You have gone to the roof of heavens.
Of this world of dust, why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Since you met me,
you have become a master singer,
and are now a skilled wrangler,
you can untangle any knot.
Of life's little leash
why do you worry?
Your arms are heavy
with treasures of all kinds.
About poverty,
why do you worry?
You are Joseph,
beautiful, strong,
steadfast in your belief,
all of Egypt has become drunk
because of you.
Of those who are blind to your beauty,
and deaf to your songs,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say that your housemate is the
Heart of Love,
she is your best friend.
You say that you are the heat of
the oven of every Lover.
You say that you are the servant of
Ali's magical sword, Zolfaghar.
Of any little dagger
why do you still worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You are the security,
the shelter of the spirit of Lovers.
Oh the sultan of sultans,
of any other king,
why do you worry?
Be silent, like a fish,
and go into that pleasant sea.
You are in deep waters now,
of life's blazing fire.
Why do you worry?

From: 'Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Translated by Sharam Shiva

~ Rumi

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:49 AM

Poem

0 World,thou choosest not

O World, thou choosest not the better part!
It's not wisdom to be only wise -
And on the inward vision close the eyes,
But it is wisdom to believe the heart.
Columbus found a world, and had no chart,
Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;
To trust the soul's invincible surmise
Was all his science and his only art.
~ Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine
That lights the pathway but one step ahead
Across a void of mystery and dread.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine
By which alone the mortal heart is led
Unto the thinking of the thought divine.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:50 AM

Poem

0 Martyred Spirit

O MARTYRED Spirit of this helpless Whole,
Who dost by pain for tyranny atone,
And in the star, the atom, and the stone,
Purgest the primal guilt, and in the soul;
Rich but in grief, thou dost thy wealth unroll,
And givest of thy substance to thine own,
Mingling the love, the laughter, and the groan
In the large hollow of the heaven's bowl.
`~ Fill full my cup; the dregs and honeyed brim
I take from thy just hand, more worthy love
For sweetening not the draught for me or him.
What in myself I am, that let me prove;
Relent not for my feeble prayer, nor dim
The burning of thine altar for my hymn.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:52 AM

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:54 AM

Poem

Premonition

The muffled syllables that Nature speaks
Fill us with deeper longing for her word;
She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks,
She makes a sweeter music than is heard.

A hidden light illumines all our seeing,
An unknown love enchants our solitude.
We feel and know that from the depths of being
Exhales an infinite, a perfect good.

Though the heart wear the garment of its sorrow
And be not happy like a naked star,
Yet from the thought of peace some peace we borrow,
Some rapture from the rapture felt afar.

Our heart strings are too coarse for Nature's fingers
Deftly to quicken as she pulses on,
And the harsh tremor that among them lingers
Will into sweeter silence die anon.

We catch the broken prelude and suggestion
Of things unuttered, needing to be sung;
We know the burden of them, and their question
Lies heavy on the heart, nor finds a tongue.

Till haply, lightning through the storm of ages,
Our sullen secret flash from sky to sky,
Glowing in some diviner poet's pages
And swelling into rapture from this sigh.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:54 AM

Poem

I Would I Might Forget That I am I

I would I might forget that I am I,
And break the heavy chain that binds me fast,
Whose links about myself my deeds have cast.
What in the body's tomb doth buried lie
Is boundless; 'tis the spirit of the sky,
Lord of the future, guardian of the past,
And soon must forth, to know his own at last.
In his large life to live, I fain would die.
Happy the dumb beast, hungering for food,
But calling not his suffering his own;
Blessed the angel, gazing on all good,
But knowing not he sits upon a throne;
Wretched the mortal, pondering his mood,
And doomed to know his aching heart alone.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:55 AM

Poem

There May Be Chaos Still Around the World

There may be chaos still around the world,
This little world that in my thinking lies;
For mine own bosom is the paradise
Where all my life's fair visions are unfurled.
Within my nature's shell I slumber curled,
Unmindful of the changing outer skies,
Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies,
Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled.
I heed them not; or if the subtle night
Haunt me with deities I never saw,
I soon mine eyelid's drowsy curtain draw
To hide their myriad faces from my sight.
They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe
A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:56 AM

Poem

Slow and Reluctant Was the Long Descent

SLOW and reluctant was the long descent,
With many farewell pious looks behind,
And dumb misgivings where the path might wind,
And questionings of nature, as I went.
The greener branches that above me bent,
The broadening valleys, quieted by mind,
To the fair reasons of the Spring inclined
And to the Summer's tender argument.
But sometimes, as revolving night descended,
And in my childish heart the new song ended,
I lay down, full of longing, on the steep;
And, haunting still the lonely way I wended,
Into my dreams the ancient sorrow blended,
And with these holy echoes charmed my sleep

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 10:56 AM

Poem

The Power of Art

NOT human art, but living gods alone
Can fashion beauties that by changing live,--
Her buds to spring, his fruits to autumn give,
To earth her fountains in her heart of stone;
But these in their begetting are o'erthrown,
Nor may the sentenced minutes find reprieve;
And summer in the blush of joy must grieve
To shed his flaunting crown of petals blown.
We to our works may not impart our breath,
Nor them with shifting light of life array;
We show but what one happy moment saith;
Yet may our hands immortalize the day
When life was sweet, and save from utter death
The sacred past that should not pass away.

~George Santayana

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:00 AM

Poem

Beyond

The
Change
Appeared
And left behind
What we had feared
And in this quietness
There is a cloudlessness
That lets us see
Beyond
Our years

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:00 AM

Poem

Celestial

If
You
Had
Known
How we
Would
Have
Grown
Had you
Still wandered
All those years alone
And left me here on my own
For when i looked into your eyes
It was so apparent that we were home
And together as bright as celestial skies
Yet you took a travelers path to find
Silence which remained behind
Was nothing other than
This love which
Is divine

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:01 AM

Poem

Consciousness

In
The
Few
True
Moments
Of worldly loneliness
Do you still perhaps possess
Loves sweet silent consciousness
To calmly wait for life to pass by
For all those who are still battling
The questions and worries of why

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:01 AM

Poem

Divorce

As
Our
Hearts
Divorce
From a chaos
Of the wandering
Worries of the mind
We enter into this
Sweet sanctuary
Of freedom
Where
The
Silence
Of love
Is a
Wisdom
Which is so
Divine

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:02 AM

Poem

Embracing

Yes
For
Certain
When i am
No longer here
My heart shall still
Gently whisper
As the sweet
Sweet
Silence
Appears
Healing
And embracing
The fear you may be facing
In moments of tears
Yet you will find
That this love
Is truly
Divine

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:03 AM

Poem

Eternity

The
Holy
Silence
Of serenity
Is as the love
Of eternity

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:03 AM

Poem

Gentle Wisdom

Has
Your
Honor
Lost all
Its illusions
Have you been
Able to place
Humility
Upon its
Face
For
Love is
Timeless
And knows
Divineness
Has no haste
So let us listen
To the silence
Of its gentle
Wisdom

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:04 AM

Poem

Infinite Heavens

The
Vast
Infinite
Heavens
Call out to me
With the serenity
Of divine love
And its
Wisdom of
Our eternity
As we bathe
In the light
Of silence
And rest assured
That shadows of night
Shall be devoured by
The stars that are
As loves children
So gentle and
Bright

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:06 AM

Poem

Like Weeds

The
Poverty
Of our greed
Grows in the fields
Of wisdom like weeds
And shall never perish
Until the will to refill
The hour of the illusion of power
Is no longer what we so desperately
Choose to cherish

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:07 AM

Poem

Love Awaits

Are
You
Now perhaps
The great cavalier
Who is for certain ready my dear
To relinquish all your fears
For in this silence
Love awaits
Right
Here

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:07 AM

Poem

Meeting

Is this
A chance
First meeting
Or have we known
Each other somewhere before
Are you the silence from within
The love of my core

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:08 AM

Poem

Our Beliefs

Who
Knows
Innocence
What have
We found
To take
With
Us
Other
Than our beliefs
And where shall we meet
When we are beyond time
Regardless if we are
Awake or
Asleep
For in
The one
Vast ocean
Of our hearts
Omniscience
There is no
Beach
Yet
From this
Crows nest
We share the
Pure sweet silence
Of eternal divine love
In the wave of serenity
Which is now within
Our reach

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:09 AM

Poem

Prism

When
We gaze
Into a prism
We shall discover
The light that opens
The door of our prison
And we will infinitely see
With a rainbow of serenity
That love is the essence
Of our core

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:09 AM

Poem

Regardless

My
Child
Is an
Infant
Of creation
And we are all
Regardless of
Small
Or tall
Only
Moments
Of the vast
Sweet silence
Which whisper
With its wisdom
While we listen
To share the
Vision of
Divine
Loves
Call

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:10 AM

Poem

Simply Divine

When
All our
Beliefs are
Simply divine
It shall be one love
That our being defines

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:11 AM

Poem

Sweet Silence

All
The
Faces
Had so
Many
Traces
Yet it
Was
The
Reflection
In the sweet silence
Of my meditation
Which brought
Me here

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:11 AM

Poem

The Bowl

The
Hole
At the
Top of
The bowl
Does not say
In any which way
That it is not
Whole

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:12 AM

Poem

The Key

While
We waited
For freedom
To take us away
From our fear
We searched
The earth
For love
As we
Knew
The
Key
To be
Is the
Silence
Which
Led us
Here

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:13 AM

Poem

The Portrait Of This Passage

As
The
New dawn
Dances silently
Upon the gardens
Of the dew doused
Morning lawn
It draws
With
Its
Light
The portrait
Of this passage
To which we are drawn
For it is loves celestial sight
The timeless wisdom
That is never
Worn

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:14 AM

Poem

Time To Blend

There
Always
Arrives
In all of
Our lives
A joyous
Moment of
Sweet silence
Which notifies
It is time to blend
Into the vast horizon
Of the palette painting a days end
And there we find again our gentle loving eyes
Waiting as these divine peaceful skies
Of the eternal sunrise that is just
Around the bend

~Silent Lotus

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:17 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 2

I am the rose of Sharon,
and the lily of the valleys.
As the lily among thorns,
so is my love among the daughters.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down under his shadow with great delight,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
and his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples:
for I am sick of love.
His left hand is under my head,
and his right hand doth embrace me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
by the roes, and by the hinds of the field,
that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
The voice of my beloved!
Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains,
skipping upon the hills.
My beloved is like a roe or a young hart:
behold, he standeth behind our wall,
he looketh forth at the windows,
shewing himself through the lattice.
My beloved spake, and said unto me,
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock,
in the secret places of the stairs,
let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice;
for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines:
for our vines have tender grapes.
My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.
Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,
turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe
or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:17 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 3

By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth:
I sought him, but I found him not.
I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets,
and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth:
I sought him, but I found him not.
The watchmen that go about the city found me:
to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?
It was but a little that I passed from them,
but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him,
and would not let him go, until I had brought him
into my mother's house, and into the chamber
of her that conceived me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
by the roes, and by the hinds of the field,
that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke,
perfumed with myrrh and frankincense,
with all powders of the merchant?
Behold his bed, which is Solomon's;
threescore valiant men are about it,
of the valiant of Israel.
They all hold swords, being expert in war:
every man hath his sword upon his thigh
because of fear in the night.
King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.
He made the pillars thereof of silver,
the bottom thereof of gold,
the covering of it of purple,
the midst thereof being paved with love,
for the daughters of Jerusalem.
Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion,
and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his
mother crowned him in the day of his espousals,
and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:18 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 4

Behold, thou art fair, my love;
behold, thou art fair;
thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks:
thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn,
which came up from the washing;
whereof every one bear twins,
and none is barren among them.
Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet,
and thy speech is comely:
thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury,
whereon there hang a thousand bucklers,
all shields of mighty men.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins,
which feed among the lilies.
Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,
I will get me to the mountain of myrrh,
and to the hill of frankincense.
Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon:
look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon,
from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse;
thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes,
with one chain of thy neck.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse!
how much better is thy love than wine!
and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb:
honey and milk are under thy tongue;
and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse;
a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits;
camphire, with spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon,
with all trees of frankincense;
myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:
A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from
Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south;
blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.
Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:19 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 5

I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse:
I have gathered my myrrh with my spice;
I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey;
I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends;
drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
I sleep, but my heart waketh:
it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying,
Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled:
for my head is filled with dew,
and my locks with the drops of the night.
I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?
I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door,
and my bowels were moved for him.
I rose up to open to my beloved;
and my hands dropped with myrrh,
and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh,
upon the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself,
and was gone: my soul failed when he spake:
I sought him, but I could not find him;
I called him, but he gave me no answer.
The watchmen that went about the city found me,
they smote me, they wounded me;
the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
What is thy beloved more than another beloved,
O thou fairest among women?
what is thy beloved more than another beloved,
that thou dost so charge us?
My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
His head is as the most fine gold,
his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters,
washed with milk, and fitly set.
His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers:
his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl:
his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold:
his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely.
This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:19 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 6

Whither is thy beloved gone,
O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside?
that we may seek him with thee.
My beloved is gone down into his garden,
to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens,
and to gather lilies.
I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine:
he feedeth among the lilies.
Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah,
comely as Jerusalem,
terrible as an army with banners.
Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me:
thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Gilead.
Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep
which go up from the washing,
whereof every one beareth twins,
and there is not one barren among them.
As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks.
There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines,
and virgins without number.
My dove, my undefiled is but one;
she is the only one of her mother,
she is the choice one of her that bare her.
The daughters saw her, and blessed her;
yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
Who is she that looketh forth as the morning,
fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
and terrible as an army with banners?
I went down into the garden of nuts
to see the fruits of the valley,
and to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates
budded.
Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of
Amminadib.
Return, return, O Shulamite;
return, return, that we may look upon thee.
What will ye see in the Shulamite?
As it were the company of two armies.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:20 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 7

How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter!
the joints of thy thighs are like jewels,
the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor:
thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
Thy neck is as a tower of ivory;
thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim:
thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh
toward Damascus.
Thine head upon thee is like Carmel,
and the hair of thine head like purple;
the king is held in the galleries.
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
This thy stature is like to a palm tree,
and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
I said, I will go up to the palm tree,
I will take hold of the boughs thereof:
now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine,
and the smell of thy nose like apples;
And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved,
that goeth down sweetly,
causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field;
let us lodge in the villages.
Let us get up early to the vineyards;
let us see if the vine flourish,
whether the tender grape appear,
and the pomegranates bud forth:
there will I give thee my loves.
The mandrakes give a smell,
and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits,
new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:20 AM

Poem

The Song of Solomon, King James Version

Chapter 8

O that thou wert as my brother,
that sucked the breasts of my mother!
when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee;
yea, I should not be despised.
I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house,
who would instruct me:
I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine
of the juice of my pomegranate.
His left hand should be under my head,
and his right hand should embrace me.
I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.
Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness,
leaning upon her beloved?
I raised thee up under the apple tree:
there thy mother brought thee forth:
there she brought thee forth that bare thee.
Set me as a seal upon thine heart,
as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death;
jealousy is cruel as the grave:
the coals thereof are coals of fire,
which hath a most vehement flame.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it:
if a man would give all the substance of his house for love,
it would utterly be condemned.
We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts:
what shall we do for our sister
in the day when she shall be spoken for?
If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver:
and if she be a door, we will inclose her with boards of cedar.
I am a wall, and my breasts like towers:
then was I in his eyes as one that found favour.
Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon;
he let out the vineyard unto keepers;
every one for the fruit thereof was to bring
a thousand pieces of silver.
My vineyard, which is mine, is before me:
thou, O Solomon, must have a thousand,
and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred.
Thou that dwellest in the gardens,
the companions hearken to thy voice:
cause me to hear it.
Make haste, my beloved,
and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart
upon the mountains of spices.

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:23 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

1

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound.
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:25 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

2

Why should she give her bounty to the dead?
What is divinity if it can come
Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?
Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measure destined for her soul.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:25 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

3

Jove in the clouds had his inhuman birth.
No mother suckled him, no sweet land gave
Large-mannered motions to his mythy mind.
He moved among us, as a muttering king,
Magnificent, would move among his hinds,
Until our blood, commingling, virginal,
With heaven, brought such requital to desire
The very hinds discerned it, in a star.
Shall our blood fail? Or shall it come to be
The blood of paradise? And shall the earth
Seem all of paradise that we shall know?
The sky will be much friendlier then than now,
A part of labor and a part of pain,
And next in glory to enduring love,
Not this dividing and indifferent blue.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:26 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

4

She says, "I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;
But when the birds are gone, and their warm fields
Return no more, where, then, is paradise?"
There is not any haunt of prophecy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evening, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:27 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

5

She says, "But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss."
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:27 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

6

Is there no change of death in paradise?
Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,
Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,
With rivers like our own that seek for seas
They never find, the same receding shores
That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Why set pear upon those river-banks
Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our colors there,
The silken weavings of our afternoons,
And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!
Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,
Within whose burning bosom we devise
Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:28 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

7

Supple and turbulent, a ring of men
Shall chant in orgy on a summer morn
Their boisterous devotion to the sun,
Not as a god, but as a god might be,
Naked among them, like a savage source.
Their chant shall be a chant of paradise,
Out of their blood, returning to the sky;
And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,
The windy lake wherein their lord delights,
The trees, like serafin, and echoing hills,
That choir among themselves long afterward.
They shall know well the heavenly fellowship
Of men that perish and of summer morn.
And whence they came and whither they shall go
The dew upon their feet shall manifest.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:28 AM

Poem

Sunday Morning

8

She hears, upon that water without sound,
A voice that cries, "The tomb in Palestine
Is not the porch of spirits lingering.
It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay."
We live in an old chaos of the sun,
Or old dependency of day and night,
Or island solitude, unsponsored, free,
Of that wide water, inescapable.
Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail
Whistle about us their spontaneous cries;
Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness;
And, in the isolation of the sky,
At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make
Ambiguous undulations as they sink,
Downward to darkness, on extended wings."

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:29 AM

Poem

The Snow Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:30 AM

Poem

The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.

And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:31 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

I

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:31 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

II

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:32 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

III

The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:33 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

IV

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:33 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

V

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:34 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

VI

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:34 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

VII

O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:35 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

VIII

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:35 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

IX

When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:36 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

X

At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:37 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

XI

He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:37 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

XII

The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:39 AM

Poem

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

XIII

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.

~Wallace Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:39 AM

Poem

Sunflowers

The heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose!

~~Thomas Moore

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:41 AM

Poem

Sunflower

Till the slow daylight pale,
A willing slave, fast bound to one above,
I wait; he seems to speed, and change, and fail;
I know he will not move.

I lift my golden orb
To his, unsmitten when the roses die,
And in my broad and burning disk absorb
The splendours of his eye.

His eye is like a clear
Keen flame that searches through me: I must droop
Upon my stalk, I cannot reach his sphere;
To mine he cannot stoop.

I win not my desire,
And yet I fail not of my guerdon; lo!
A thousand flickering darts and tongues of fire
Around me spread and glow.

All rayed and crowned, I miss
No queenly state until the summer wane,
The hours flit by; none knoweth of my bliss,
And none has guessed my pain.

I follow one above,
I track the shadow of his steps, I grow
Most like to him I love
Of all that shines below

~~Dora Greenwell

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:41 AM

Poem

Ah! Sunflower

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

~~William Blake

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:42 AM

Poem

The Sunflowers

Come with me
into the field of sunflowers.
Their faces are burnished disks,
their dry spines

creak like ship masts,
their green leaves,
so heavy and many,
fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.
Come with me
to visit the sunflowers,
they are shy

but want to be friends;
they have wonderful stories
of when they were young -
the important weather,

the wandering crows.
Don't be afraid
to ask them questions!
Their bright faces,

which follow the sun,
will listen, and all
those rows of seeds -
each one a new life!

hope for a deeper acquaintance;
each of them, though it stands
in a crowd of many,
like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work
of turning their lives
into a celebration
is not easy. Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,
the simple garments of leaves,
the coarse roots in the earth
so uprightly burning.

~~Mary Oliver

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:44 AM

Poem

In No Strange Land

The kingdom of God is within you

O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!

Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air--
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumor of thee there?

Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!--
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.

The angels keep their ancient places--
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendored thing.

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry--and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry--clinging to Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water,
Not of Genesareth, but Thames!

~~Francis Thompson

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:46 AM

Poem

Here's a poem written for a 80th birthday celebration.

"Amy, Your poem was the perfect gift for my Dad! It was amazing that you could put all of my feelings into such a beautiful piece of prose. It was the best part of my fathers party!

~~Mary

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:47 AM

Poem

Birthday Poem for Dad, An Example Personified.

Eighty years young, that's our Dad,
Always the King of our house.
He was my very first love,
I was his 'Missy Mouse.'

Married for 53 years,
Mom was the love of his life.
The neighborhood girl of his dreams,
Made her his dear, loving wife.

Oh, the great times we had,
Always so much fun.
Dad, you made it all happen for us,
Always as bright as the sun.

You coached the boys at baseball,
And Al homered, oh joy.
Mom jumped up on the backstop,
Screaming out loud, 'That's my boy!'

With all eyes upon her she gushed,
And I don't with price, you see.
Mom was wetting her pants,
It's all still hysterical to me.

Dad used to take us all fishing,
And I yapped just all the long day.
As a coup de grace, I caught Al's ass,
I ask you, what did I do wrong?

One winter night of yore,
Dad hosed the back yard, who would think?
After 12 hours of deep, deep freeze,
We have our own skating rink!

We skated all day and night,
Loved it with joy and with flair.
I tell you one thing about dad,
He's always so - extraordinaire.

He's blessed with a world of great patience,
And a world of friends just so dear.
Inner strength to be admired,
Dad's multi-merits are perfectly clear.

Loved by all of his children,
Grandchildren and great grandson, too.
Dad, you're nature's true nobleman,
In everything you ever do.

Your childhood stories enthrall,
Your love for mom is legend, so sweet.
In all the ways that count most,
Our Dad sure just can't be beat.

A fan of the Orioles and Ravens,
We love to chat all intra-game.
Dad will call me on a touch down.
A homer? I'll call him the same.

I'll never forget that great night,
Before I left the house.
We went sledding, the two of us,
Just dear dad and his ol' Missy Mouse.

We sledded all that night away,
Talking and laughing our way down those hills.
That night still warms my heart magically,
Still gives me the greatest of thrills.

Dad, when you wiggle your ears,
It's like sunlight that's dancing above.
On your 80th golden birthday,
Our dear wishes and true endless love.

Love,

Mary

~~Mary

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:49 AM

Poem

Birthday Poem

Another Year

I’m wishing you another year
Of laughter, joy and fun,
Surprises, love and happiness,
And when your birthday’s done,

I hope you feel deep in your heart,
As your birthdays come and go,
How very much you mean to me,
More than you can know.

~~By Joanna Fuchs

--> Man

Man

March 10, 2008, 11:50 AM

Poem

Perfect Birthday

On your birthday I wish you much pleasure and joy;
I hope all of your wishes come true.
May each hour and minute be filled with delight,
And your birthday be perfect for you!

~~By Joanna Fuchs

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 09:43 AM

Poem

My Polar Star

I have made You the polar star of my
existence; never again can I lose my way in the
voyage of life.

Wherever I go, You are always there to
shower your benefience all around me. Your face
is ever present before my mind's eyes.

If I lose sight of You even for a moment, I
almost lose my mind.

Whenever my heart is about to go astray, just
a glance of You makes it feel ashamed of itself.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 09:44 AM

Poem

The Kiss

Lips' language to lips' ears.
Two drinking each other's heart, it seems.
Two roving loves who have left home,
pilgrims to the confluence of lips.
Two waves rise by the law of love
to break and die on two sets of lips.
Two wild desires craving each other
meet at last at the body's limits.
Love's writing a song in dainty letters,
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips.
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips
perhaps to thread them into a chain later.
This sweet union of lips
is the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 09:44 AM

Poem

Hard Times

Music is silenced, the dark descending slowly
Has stripped unending skies of all companions.
Weariness grips your limbs and within the locked horizons
Dumbly ring the bells of hugely gathering fears.
Still, O bird, O sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings.

It's not melodious woodlands but the leaps and falls
Of an ocean's drowsy booming,
Not a grove bedecked with flowers but a tumult flecked with foam.
Where is the shore that stored your buds and leaves?
Where the nest and the branch's hold?
Still, O bird, my sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings.

Stretching in front of you the night's immensity
Hides the western hill where sleeps the distant sun;
Still with bated breath the world is counting time and swimming
Across the shoreless dark a crescent moon
Has thinly just appeared upon the dim horizon.
--But O my bird, O sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings.

From upper skies the stars with pointing fingers
Intently watch your course and death's impatience
Lashes at you from the deeps in swirling waves ;
And sad entreaties line the farthest shore
With hands outstretched and crooning ' Come, O come ! '
Still, O bird, O sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings.

All that is past: your fears and loves and hopes ;
All that is lost: your words and lamentation ;
No longer yours a home nor a bed composed of flowers.
For wings are all you have, and the sky's broadening countryard,
And the dawn steeped in darkness, lacking all direction.
Dear bird, my sightless bird,
Not yet, not yet the time to furl your wings!

translation Buddhadeva Bose

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 09:58 AM

Poem

Lord of My Life

Thou who art the innermost Spirit of my being,
art thou pleased, Lord of my Life?
For I give to thee my cup filled with all
the pain and delight that the crushed
grapes of my heart had surrendered,
I wove with rhythm of colors and song cover for thy bed,
And with the molten gold of my desires
I fashioned playthings for thy passing hours.
I know not why thou chosest me for thy partner,
Lord of my life.

Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?

I see thine eyes gazing at the dark of my heart,
Lord of my life,
I wonder if my failure and wrongs are forgiven.
For many were my days without service
and nights of forgetfulness; futile were the flowers
that faded in the shade not offered to thee.

Often the tied strings of my lute slackened
at the strains of thy tunes.
And often at the ruin of wasted hours
my desolate evenings were filled with tears.

But have my days come to their end at last,
Lord of my life, while my arms round thee
grow limp, my kisses losing their truth?
Then break up the meeting of this languid day!*
Renew the old in me in fresh forms of delight;
and let the wedding come once again in
a new ceremony of life.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 09:59 AM

Poem

Waiting

The song I came to sing
remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing
and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true,
the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony
of wishing in my heart.....

I have not seen his face,
nor have I listened to his voice;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps
from the road before my house.....

But the lamp has not been lit
and I cannot ask him into my house;
I live in the hope of meeting with him;
but this meeting is not yet.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:00 AM

Poem

The Sun of the First Day

The sun of the first day
Put the question
To the new manifestation of life-
Who are you?
There was no answer.
Years passed by.

The last sun of the last day
Uttered the question
on the shore of the western sea
In the hush of evening-
Who are you?
No answer came again.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:00 AM

Poem

My Song

This song of mine will wind its music around you,
my child, like the fond arms of love.

The song of mine will touch your forehead
like a kiss of blessing.

When you are alone it will sit by your side and
whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
it will fence you about with aloofness.

My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.

It will be like the faithful star overhead
when dark night is over your road.

My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
and will carry your sight into the heart of things.

And when my voice is silenced in death,
my song will speak in your living heart.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:01 AM

Poem

Fireflies

I touch God in my song
as the hill touches the far-away sea
with its waterfall.
The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you
and yet give you illumined freedom.

Love remains a secret even when spoken,
for only a lover truly knows that he is loved.

Emancipation from the bondage of the soil
is no freedom for the tree.

In love I pay my endless debt to thee
for what thou art.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:01 AM

Poem

On the Nature of Love

The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.
We have trysts to keep in the darkness, but where
or with whom - of that we are unaware.
But we have this faith - that a lifetime's bliss
will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.
Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs
brush us, pass us, give us delightful shocks.
Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry: `This life is blest!
for your sake such miles have I traversed!'
All those others who came close and moved off
in the darkness - I don't know if they exist or not.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:02 AM

Poem

One Day in Spring...

One day in spring, a woman came
In my lonely woods,
In the lovely form of the Beloved.
Came, to give to my songs, melodies,
To give to my dreams, sweetness.
Suddenly a wild wave
Broke over my heart's shores
And drowned all language.
To my lips no name came,
She stood beneath the tree, turned,
Glanced at my face, made sad with pain,
And with quick steps, came and sat by me.
Taking my hands in hers, she said:
'You do not know me, nor I you--
I wonder how this could be?'
I said:
'We two shall build, a bridge for ever
Between two beings, each to the other unknown,
This eager wonder is at the heart of things.'

The cry that is in my heart is also the cry of her heart;
The thread with which she binds me binds her too.
Her have I sought everywhere,
Her have I worshipped within me,
Hidden in that worship she has sought me too.
Crossing the wide oceans, she came to steal my heart.
She forgot to return, having lost her own.
Her own charms play traitor to her,
She spreads her net, knowing not
Whether she will catch or be caught.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:04 AM

Poem

I

I wonder if I know him
In whose speech is my voice,
In whose movement is my being,
Whose skill is in my lines,
Whose melody is in my songs
In joy and sorrow.
I thought he was chained within me,
Contained by tears and laughter,
Work and play.
I thought he was my very self
Coming to an end with my death.
Why then in a flood of joy do I feel him
In the sight and touch of my beloved?
This 'I' beyond self I found
On the shores of the shining sea.
Therefore I know
This'I' is not imprisoned within my bounds.
Losing myself, I find him
Beyond the borders of time and space.
Through the Ages
I come to know his Shining Self
In the Iffe of the seeker,
In the voice of the poet.
From the dark clouds pour the rains.
I sit and think:
Bearing so many forms, so many names,
I come down, crossing the threshold
Of countless births and deaths.
The Supreme undivided, complete in himself,
Embracing past and present,
Dwells in Man.
Within Him I shall find myself -
The 'I' that reaches everywhere.

~Rabindranath Tagore

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:06 AM

Poem

Driftwood

My forefathers gave me
My spirit's shaken flame,
The shape of hands, the beat of heart,
The letters of my name.
But it was my lovers,
And not my sleeping sires,
Who gave the flame its changeful
And iridescent fires;
As the driftwood burning
Learned its jewelled blaze
From the sea's blue splendor
Of colored nights and days.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:08 AM

Poem

Barter

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:09 AM

Poem

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white.

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:10 AM

Poem

A Winter Night

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro,
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:10 AM

Poem

Song

YOU bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do;
For all my world is in your arms,
My sun and stars are you.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:11 AM

Poem

Twilight

Dreamily over the roofs
The cold spring rain is falling;
Out in the lonely tree
A bird is calling, calling.

Slowly over the earth
The wings of night are falling;
My heart like the bird in the tree
Is calling, calling, calling.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:12 AM

Poem

Peace

Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.

I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.

I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies, --
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:12 AM

Poem

Alchemy

I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.

For I shall learn from flower and leaf
That color every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless wine of grief
To living gold.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:13 AM

Poem

I Shall Not Care

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:13 AM

Poem

Desert Pools

I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.

His feet will turn to desert places
Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,
Where stars stare down with sharpened faces
From heavens pitilessly blue.

And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In stagnant water keen as fire.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:14 AM

Poem

Leaves

One by one, like leaves from a tree,
All my faiths have forsaken me;
But the stars above my head
Burn in white and delicate red,
And beneath my feet the earth
Brings the sturdy grass to birth.
I who was content to be
But a silken-singing tree,
But a rustle of delight
In the wistful heart of night--
I have lost the leaves that knew
Touch of rain and weight of dew.
Blinded by a leafy crown
I looked neither up nor down--
But the little leaves that die
Have left me room to see the sky;
Now for the first time I know
Stars above and earth below.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:14 AM

Poem

Snowfall

"She can't be unhappy," you said,
"The smiles are like stars in her eyes,
And her laughter is thistledown
Around her low replies."
"Is she unhappy?" you said--
But who has ever known
Another's heartbreak--
All he can know is his own;
And she seems hushed to me,
As hushed as though
Her heart were a hunter's fire
Smothered in snow.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:15 AM

Poem

Pity

They never saw my lover's face,
They only know our love was brief,
Wearing awhile a windy grace
And passing like an autumn leaf.

They wonder why I do not weep,
They think it strange that I can sing,
They say, "Her love was scarcely deep
Since it has left so slight a sting.
They never saw my love, nor knew
That in my heart's most secret place
I pity them as angels do
Men who have never seen God's face.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:16 AM

Poem

Compensation

I should be glad of loneliness
And hours that go on broken wings,
A thirsty body, a tired heart
And the unchanging ache of things,
If I could make a single song
As lovely and as full of light,
As hushed and brief as a falling star
On a winter night.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:16 AM

Poem

Winter Stars

I went out at night alone;
The young blood flowing beyond the sea
Seemed to have drenched my spirit's wings --
I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head
From shadows shaken on the snow,
I saw Orion in the east
Burn steadily as long ago.

From windows in my father's house,
Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
I watched Orion as a girl
Above another city's lights.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too,
The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
The faithful beauty of the stars.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:17 AM

Poem

I Would Live in Your Love

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes,
drawn down by each wave that recedes;
I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,
I would beat with your heart as it beats,
I would follow your soul as it leads.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:17 AM

Poem

"I Am Not Yours"

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:18 AM

Poem

The Lamp

If I can bear your love like a lamp before me,
When I go down the long steep Road of Darkness,
I shall not fear the everlasting shadows,
Nor cry in terror.

If I can find out God, then I shall find Him,
If none can find Him, then I shall sleep soundly,
Knowing how well on earth your love sufficed me,
A lamp in darkness.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:19 AM

Poem

To E.

I have remembered beauty in the night,
Against black silences I waked to see
A shower of sunlight over Italy
And green Ravello dreaming on her height;
I have remembered music in the dark,
The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach's,
And running water singing on the rocks
When once in English woods I heard a lark.

But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you --
You are the rarest soul I ever knew,
Lover of beauty, knightliest and best;
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:19 AM

Poem

May Wind

I SAID, "I have shut my heart
As one shuts an open door,
That Love may starve therein
And trouble me no more."

But over the roofs there came
The wet new wind of May,
And a tune blew up from the curb
Where the street-pianos play.

My room was white with the sun
And Love cried out in me,
"I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free."

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:20 AM

Poem

I Remembered

There never was a mood of mine,
Gay or heart-broken, luminous or dull,
But you could ease me of its fever
And give it back to me more beautiful.

In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I remembered you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.

~Sara Teasdale

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:22 AM

Poem

Inward Morning

Packed in my mind lie all the clothes
Which outward nature wears,
And in its fashion's hourly change
It all things else repairs.
In vain I look for change abroad,
And can no difference find,
Till some new ray of peace uncalled
Illumes my inmost mind.

What is it gilds the trees and clouds,
And paints the heavens so gay,
But yonder fast-abiding light
With its unchanging ray?

Lo, when the sun streams through the wood,
Upon a winter's morn,
Where'er his silent beams intrude,
The murky night is gone.

How could the patient pine have known
The morning breeze would come,
Or humble flowers anticipate
The insect's noonday hum--

Till the new light with morning cheer
>From far streamed through the aisles,
And nimbly told the forest trees
For many stretching miles?

I've heard within my inmost soul
Such cheerful morning news,
In the horizon of my mind
Have seen such orient hues,

As in the twilight of the dawn,
When the first birds awake,
Are heard within some silent wood,
Where they the small twigs break,

Or in the eastern skies are seen,
Before the sun appears,
The harbingers of summer heats
Which from afar he bears.

~Henry David Thoreau

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:23 AM

Poem

The Summer Rain

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,
Our Shakespeare's life were rich to live again,
What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,
Nor Shakespeare's books, unless his books were men.

Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,
What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,
If juster battles are enacted now
Between the ants upon this hummock's crown?

Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,
If red or black the gods will favor most,
Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,
Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,
For now I've business with this drop of dew,
And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower--
I'll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

This bed of herd's grass and wild oats was spread
Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.
A clover tuft is pillow for my head,
And violets quite overtop my shoes.

And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,
And gently swells the wind to say all's well;
The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,
Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;
But see that globe come rolling down its stem,
Now like a lonely planet there it floats,
And now it sinks into my garment's hem.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,
And richness rare distills from every bough;
The wind alone it is makes every sound,
Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

For shame the sun will never show himself,
Who could not with his beams e'er melt me so;
My dripping locks--they would become an elf,
Who in a beaded coat does gayly go.

~Henry David Thoreau

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:24 AM

Poem

Friendship

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love's bands more tight,
Service he ne'er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.

Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter's storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow's pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep'rably.

~Henry David Thoreau

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:25 AM

Poem

LANGUAGE IS A METAPHOR

Language is a metaphor
for direct contact
I understand your silent eye transmissions
& feel the love poems in your touch
Make my flesh real
let your fingers connect me
There’s nothing to stop you
from seeing all the way
to the bottom of my soul

My mind is racing
but it can’t run fast enough
to catch my heart
You’re the source of the quaking
in my solar plexis
How can I hide the burning from the one
from whom I caught it?
Your kisses have danger
written all over them

My heart is roaring
or is it your heart?
Your love still hits like a head on
collision with every day reality
Like a prevailing wind
you’re still blowing my mind
The doors to all my cells fly open
inviting you to break my jail
& free the very last prisoner

How do you know to come
when I’ve lost all my petals
& I’m only covered with thorns?
Even with confusing pain
it’s worth certain death to love you
Our love is healing us more each day
Since you’ve come into my garden
all the flowers you pass
burst into bloom in your wake

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:27 AM

Poem

YOUR TOUCH IS UNHINGING

Your touch is unhinging
Your eyes express such joy
it makes me forget there’s nothing to fear
The starling flock in my heart is now aflutter
How can you still be dealing me hands
when you’ve already cleaned me out?
You’ve even got me seeing the strangeness
right here in the living room
since you altered my vision with a look

What chance does a solitary star have
against a whole sky full of darkness?
A pretty good one if it’s the sun you are
& this is your solar system
Plug me into your power source
Where thoughts go energy follows
Shattered things don’t just go back
the way they were do they?
Listen while I crash my waves for you

Why didn’t I know there would be such discoveries?
Come let me dig you further
How can I always be in your presence?
You cleared a way when you told me:
“If it wasn’t for this wall
we wouldn’t be needing a window
& if not for this window
I wouldn’t be drawing these curtains aside”
Then you opened me for good

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:28 AM

Poem

ANY MOMENT NOW

The more we are what we are
the lonelier it gets
You don’t need to get away
for some time alone
We’re always alone
So why kid ourselves
& act as if we don’t know
We know very well but
don’t like to think about it
because it makes us
feel suddenly abandoned
Just like we know
we’re about to breathe our last
any moment now

Much better to simply accept it
because we’re already
getting light headed
& because there’s suddenly
nowhere to lean
nowhere to stand
The earth seems tiny like a baseball
being shot out of your reality
or a mortal shell
or some kind of nerve gas
What kind of wild story
will our minds make up this time
to explain what
happened to our senses?

When you’re solitary
distances take more out of you
Every cup life hands you
seems ready to shatter
Everybody lives with
the knowledge in their own way
Some get fired up & leave the lights on
Others explode into countless fragments
none of which seem to belong anywhere
& still manage to show only courage
in the face of some
of the strangest things yet encountered
without even the senses
to fully grasp them

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:28 AM

Poem

NO TIME

The sun doesn’t contain itself
so how shall we?
What’s more precise
than our own illusions?
Be not afraid
I feel free to tell you anything
I want to learn to drive you wild
Nobody’s safe
We’re all naked as flowers
How do you always know where to look?
Love me silly
Love my brains out

Nothing here is what it seems
There’s no time to waste
so we never cease our explorations
No more words without lives
We don’t run with predators anymore
we run with the prey
What’s more important
than the way life is
playing with your hair
disguised as my figures?
My thinking passages
are all fogged up with your breath

Our desires are developing their own strains
Tease me with revelations
Whatever you touch
you seem to transfigure
Transfigure me with your touch
Only you know what I mean
There’s no time to waste
Sing for me
Sing death is a lie
You’re what’s really intoxicating
making the moon shine
in the still of this night

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:29 AM

Poem

LOVE ISN’T WHAT THE WORDS SAY

We circle the sky like two birds
who fell out of their nests together
& now are lighter than air
Watch what you long for burn you
I thought I was well done
but next to you
I’m just a raw soul
You satisfy my longing
as nothing else can do
If work is a form of worship
we work together well

When I was lost & broke
you found me & made me whole
When I was shut closed
you unlocked me & opened my passageways
I close my eyes with a deep breath
to concentrate on feeling everything you touch
but they only fly open
to lie on you a spell
I smell you all over me
My one desire is to breathe with you
until the day I die

Words are bubbles
breaking on the surface
of silence
Words are the tools of ignorance
Remember the love songs we sang
long before we knew any words for language?
Take every bit of my love my love
I’m just happy to see you making it a paradise
Love isn’t what the words say
What of it?
Go on singing

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:30 AM

Poem

A PERFECT EXAMPLE

I’m a perfect example
of the kind of person I am
An utter idiot
looking endlessly into your eyes
We want to ride together some waves of delight
but our bubbles pop & we’re shooting stars
There’s a moment of feeling ridiculous
Our love is a light we like to leave on
I love you as you love me
& you don’t find that scary

Is that a warmth or a tingling
making its way slowly up your spine?
I feel something in you matching the chill
crawling up mine
Love has ripped our realities open again
Every cell in my body has free will
that’s how I come to love you so freely
It’s the sympathetic magic
of ordinary things coming together
to become extraordinary

We’re involved in ways we can’t imagine
I have no idea for instance
what’s flowing in a flower besides water
or making a bird cry
out its name until we start calling it that
We become the breath of life
inhaling lifetimes of wounded desire
What were we just talking about?
I’m always talking about you
no matter what the words say

~Steve Toth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:34 AM

Poem

The Soul's Over-Ardent Love

Love, that art Charity,
Why has Thou hurt me so?
My heart is smote in two,
And burns with ardent love,
Glowing and flaming; refuge finding none,
My heart is fettered fast, it cannot flee;
It is consumed, like wax set in the sun;
Living, yet dying, swooning passionately,
It prays for strength a little way to run,
Yet in this furnace must it bide and be:
Where am I led, ah me!

I once could speak, but now my lips are dumb;
My eyes are blind, although I once could see:
In this abyss my soul is stark and numb,
Silent I speak; cling, yet am held by Thee:
Falling, I rise; I go, and yet I come;
Pursue, and am pursued; I am bound yet free;
O Love that whelmeth me!
Maddened I cry:
"Why must I die,
They fiery strength to prove?"

Love, Love, of naught but Love my tongue can sing,
Thy wounded Hand hath pierced my heart so deep:
Love, Love, with Thee made one, to Thee I cling,
Upon Thy breast, let me sleep;
Love, Love, with Love my heart is perishing;
Love, like an Eagle snatching me Thy sleep,
For Thee I swoon, I weep,
Love, let me be,
By courtesy,
Thine own in death. . .

~Jacopone Da Todi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:36 AM

Poem

Of Man's Perfection in Love

0 minstrel, raise thy plaintive melody,
and let thy song be tender to my soul:
upon the subtle ninefold modes of love
display the secrets of a lover's heart.
One moment parted from the Friend, I die:
revive my heart with thy life-giving stream
that I may come into the lovers' ring
and grace the lovers' circle. Let me pass
one moment from the world, and for an hour
I will not heed my selfhood: being lost
to this false being, let me swiftly move
to realms of drunkenness where, like the drunk,
I will commence the dance, and raise the cry
of yearning love - for truly I do yearn
for my Beloved - standing in the field
of high ambition. I will shake my wings
like sacrificial bird, and fly at last
from empty word to true reality.
Then will I tell in order, each by each,
the beauty of the Friend, the lover's love.

~Jacopone Da Todi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:36 AM

Poem

From Love That Is Silent

Love, silent as the night,
Who not one word wilt say,
That none may know thee right!
0 Love that lies concealed,
Through heat and storm and cold,
That none may guess nor read
Thy secrets manifold;
Lest thieves should soon grow bold
To steal away thy treasure,
Snatch it and take to flight
Deep-hid, thy secret fires
More ardently shall glow;
And he who screens thee close,
Thy fiercest heat shall know.

~Jacopone Da Todi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:37 AM

Poem

Sing for Very Love

Thou, Jubilus, the heart dost move;
And makest us sing for very love.

The Jubilus in fire awakes,
And straight the man must sing and pray;
His tongue in childish stammering shakes,
Nor knows he what his lips may say;
He cannot quench nor hide away
That Sweetness pure and infinite.

The Jubilus in flame is lit,
And straight the man must shout and sing;
So close to Love his heart is knit,
He scarce can bear the honeyed sting;
His clamor and his cries must ring,
And shame forever take to flight.

The Jubilus enslaves man's heart
- A love-bewildered prisoner -
And see! his neighbors stand apart,
And mock the senseless chatterer:
They deem his speech a foolish blur,
A shadow of his spirit's light.

Yea, when thou enterest the mind,
0 Jubilus, thou rapture fair,
The heart of man new skill doth find
Love's own disguise to grasp and wear,
The suffering of Love to bear,
With song and clamor of delight!

And thus the uninitiate
Will deam that thou art crazed indeed;
They see thy strange and fevered state,
But have not wit thy heart to read;
Within, deep-pierced, that heart may bleed,
Hidden from curious mortal sight.

~Jacopone Da Todi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:38 AM

Poem

Rapture Divine

When the mind's very being is gone,
Sunk in a conscious sleep,
In a rapture divine and deep,
Itself in the Godhead lost:
It is conquered, ravished, and won!
Set in Eternity's sweep,
Gazing back on the steep,
Knowing not how it was crossed -
To a new world now it is tossed,
Drawn from its former state,
To another, measureless, great,
Where Love is drowned in the Sea.

~Jacopone Da Todi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:40 AM

Poem

No Poem...

No poem with jeweled words
visits me now. Only the hills,
silent and black on an afternoon
of clouds in an almost-spring,
when children's laughter is swallowed
somewhere in schools, and you are away,
and the landlord's black hound
lies sleeping in the awakening grass.

There are letters scattered
as if on the floor --orders to pay
fines, or report to the Registry,
to meet the dark gavel of deadlines,
and there are prohibitions, posted
from someone without a face, without
a signature or name. Yet, if I wait
the spring leaves will write themselves,

the scripts of trees filling the hills.
And the granite and quartz will grow
ever so slowly, rising between cedar
and pine. This is the orchestra
of legato, while the daffodils play a quick
stacatto, and mosquitoes sleep at the window.
Perhaps soon the black hound will wake, bark,
run, like my heart, when you come home.

Lenox, Massachusetts
16 April 1999

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:41 AM

Poem

They Have Become....
word dreamer in ce*

No one lives here anymore,
and even 'here' is a word that hangs on
a memory swimming away with the westward cloud.

No one lives here anymore.
The wedding ritual is over
and the brides are gone.

They have pledged to walk 'it is true'
everywhere always 'til death.
And now, its disappointing: there is no death.

No one lives here anymore.
There is no life--there is no death.
There are no brides, no you, no me.

The leaves of bushes and trees tremble in wind
and gray clouds sleepwalk across the sky.
Still, most days the sun burns everything.

No one lives here anymore.
The sun burns everything.
This is a desert, indifferent to rain.

The saguaro drank water centuries ago.
That was how it began. They stood
horizontal, in coyote's eyes, eyes of the dream.

No one lives here anymore. No one
waters or drinks. The weather has become
what it always was: Earth, Wind, and Fire.

No one waters anymore. There is nothing
to purify, and only hunger that burns in the sun.
The corn has become what it always was:

The corn has become the servant/giver of sun.
No one lives here anymore. The brides
have turned all the Earth, have watered and drunk.

They do not live here anymore.
They have eaten the corn. They have become
the Water, the Wood, the Earth, the Wind, the Sun.

No one lives here anymore.
Listen to the buffalo ghost, the empty cornfield.
Listen to the wind in mountains, in leaves of trees.

Sail with the cloud. No one lives here anymore.
The turtle's voice is as always: less than a whisper.
Listen: it is not death! The graves are light!

Listen to the corn. Listen!
They have eaten the corn. They have become
the Water, the Moon, the Earth, the Wind, the Sun.

5 July 1998

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:42 AM

Poem

SILENCE ll

Silence is not a lack of words.
Silence is not a lack of music.
Silence is not a lack of curses.
Silence is not a lack of screams.
Silence is not a lack of colors
or voices or bodies or whistling wind.
Silence is not a lack of anything.

Silence is resting, nestling
in every leaf of every tree,
in every root and branch.
Silence is the flower sprouting
upon the branch.

Silence is the mother singing
to her newborn babe.
Silence is the mother crying
for her stillborn babe.
Silence is the life of all
these babes, whose breath
is a breath of God.

Silence is seeing and singing praises.
Silence is the roar of ocean waves.
Silence is the sandpiper dancing
on the shore.
Silence is the vastness of a whale.
Silence is a blade of grass.

Silence is sound
And silence is silence.
Silence is love, even
the love that hides in hate.

Silence is the pompous queen
and the harlot and the pimp
hugging his purse on a crowded street.

Silence is the healer dreaming
the plant, the drummer drumming
the dream. It is the lover's
exhausted fall into sleep.
It is the call of morning birds.

Silence is God's beat tapping all hearts.

Silence is the star kissing a flower.

Silence is a word, a hope, a candle
lighting the window of home.

Silence is everything --the renewing sleep
of Earth, the purifying dream of Water,
the purifying rage of Fire, the soaring
and spiraling flight of Air. It is all
things dissolved into no-thing--Silence
is with you always.....the Presence
of I AM

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:42 AM

Poem

This is the Time of Fire

There is a time of Water and a time of Wind.
This is the time of Fire, and Fire eats time.
The sands of the desert are uncountable!
Let go of the reckoning! Let go of time!
Let go of rain! Let go of forgiving!

Fire eats rain and Fire eats trees. Fire eats
The leaves of corn. Fire is the grain and the husk
Of corn. Fire is the raging of Water. Fire is the roar,
the hum, the sting of Wind. Fire is the pepper pulsing
from the flower. Fire is the frenzied volcano dancing.
It is the lightning's blitz, the drumming, the singing,
The beat of tribes, telling their story all night,
Piercing the bottom of dark, birthing the light.

Fire is the Earth exhausted, folding, sleeping
from days and nights of love, til there is no counting.
When flowers bleed, when lions sleep, when angels sigh, oh bleed, oh
sleep, oh sigh then! Oh, burn with mountains!
When leaves flame and fall to the ground,
When grass grows brown then gray, grieve not.
Grieve not, but follow the eagle and follow the grass.

Weep not for the Earth. Weep not for the corn.
The Earth is the lover who gives all to love.
The Earth makes a bed of Love and the Sun knows.
The Earth makes a table of Love and the Fire knows.
The Earth feeds Fire. The Earth gives all to Love.
Follow the Earth. Look beyond your eyes as you go!
Follow the Earth to the beat of the Fire!
Open your thighs. Give all to Love!

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:44 AM

Poem

GIVING

- a song that comes ...

The fruit when ripe/falls from the tree--
The fruit when ripe/falls from the tree.--
Blessings on all/ who eat of the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

And this is the only /giving I know--
And this is the only/ loving I know.
Blessings on all /who eat of the tree--
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The seed when ripe/spirals down in the ground--
The seed when ripe/spirals down in the ground.
Blessings on all/who eat of the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The ground in rain/covers the seed--
The ground in sun/opens up the seed.
Blessings on all/who eat of the tree--
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

And this is the only/giving I know--
And this is the only/loving I know.
Blessings on all/who eat of the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The gardener breathes/on the shoots and the leaves--
The gardener waters/the roots and the leaves.
Blessings on all/who eat from the tree--
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The ants weave air/through the roots in the ground--
The birds weave song/The butterflies dance round.
Blessings on all/who eat from the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The giraffe and the deer/they eat from the tree.
The rivers and the wind/they eat from the tree.
Blessings on all/ who eat from the tree--
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The gnomes and the moon/they eat from the tree--
The Planets and the People/they eat from the tree.
Blessings on all/who eat from the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

The (*apple,peach, almond, leaf...) when ripe/falls
from the tree--
The (...) when ripe/falls from the tree.
And this is the only/giving I know.
And this is the only/loving I know.
Blessings on all/who eat from the tree.
Blessings on all/Blessed Be! Blessed Be!

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:45 AM

Poem

DREAM POEM

Everytime you see a tree
or dream a cloud,
there is that in you of the tree
there is that in you of the cloud.

The saguaro dreams in drought
and endures. The cloud dreams
our woe --sneezes, cries.
The rain falls

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:45 AM

Poem

The Willow in the Bend

The willows' golden budded branches brim in the winter air.
There is fire --even in winter, even when my heart here
cannot remember the way of Love.--The road curves round
taking me to where I have been, and in the bend,
the willows' golden budded branches brim.

19 February 1999

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:46 AM

Poem

PENELOPE

I am Penelope and I sat here weaving
all these years, weaving and waiting.
My story may seem very dull,
the story of weaving and waiting,
unless, of course, you want to add
some Hollywood or Cannes/Riveriera intrigue
and write of all my suitors, and my temptations
to an adulterous life, and unless you want
to write that I worried about Telemachus,
my son, and his ability to endure the slander
of his father's name. But even that
seems dull beside tales of one-eyed monsters,
Scylla and Charibidis, and all that drove
my husband round the world. No, waiting
is not particularly an exciting tale to tell.

You'd have to be here, to live
where narrative is swallowed up
in the turns of a spinning wheel,
and a particular herb tossed
in the noon meal soup. The herb
would make you drunk with sleep
and you'd dream of spinning and
of looms where names and forms
are woven while the sun falls slowly
in the long Mediterranean afternoon.

And you'd wake to a tapestry
that your fingers followed into being,
a tapestry of names, colors, shapes
to hang on a wall, or to drape
the backs of children, old women,
and returning kings. This woven
thing--this tapestry--would remind us
that history and time, like distant horizons
elude us forever, and this body,
this adventure, these wars, these seas,
are but the densest measure of a dream.

Wait, then, upon the fuller dream, the one
woven in the loom, lent us by the weaving stars.

23 February 1999

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:47 AM

Poem

HOW GOD LOOKS HERE

In this place, where ever it is,
God looks different.
I need new glasses or new ears.
God sounds different.
God says "New Yawh-k" here
and God likes Deli's on every corner
and God does business with Pizzeria's
on every other corner, and with names
like Caprianni and Giovannni
or Bagels and Loxs.
God does all this amid the winding roads
along the Hudson River, amid the trees
that reveal white tailed deer behind the houses.
God is multiplying in white-tailed deer
behind the houses and crossing the roads.

Here God married her cousin--Rose-velt
married Roose-e-velt, and all those folk
with money and means, like Vanderbilt
and Jones and Astor, have their names
on lavish stone gates, where God enters.
Here, God loves those gray gates.
Here God loves the curves of things, and
no road is straight.--The slaves
on the underground railroad
took to these curves in the road.
The Dutch rode up the winding river,
and spun their tales of the life
they created here in these dark hills.

Here God sees me waking at night
asking, 'where am i?' and God
answers in a language i cannot yet
speak, but I listen to God's accent here,
and ask, which syllable is my name.

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:47 AM

Poem

HOW TO TALK WITH A MOUNTAIN

Anthropomorphism has its place. It's
a starting point, at least. So, I'll say
if i have eyes, then a mountain has eyes,
and whatever happens after that
is poetry, where i become lost,
and there are no conditions, no
consequences. There's only the mountain,

Mother, inside, around, leaping, plunging down.
The hips of the mountain where wombs
curl inside wombs, generations of granite, coal,
and sequoyah, woodpeckers and eagles
and sparrows. Cedar and pine plunge
their roots into the Mountain Mother.
They cannot escape her. They are her,
and in their knotted wrestling in the ground,
through ages, they return, return, return......

She rains from inside, and curls to clouds.
The clouds embrace her. She is clouds.
She is the light of birch bark, carved to sail
on her soothing rivers. The nimble, nibbling deer.

She is King, Queen, priest, choirs and silence.
Always she reigns, with absolute rule,
and her rule is bounty and blessing.
She is the daughter of Sun, the son
of Moon, and waxes, heaves, cries, folds,
sings. She sings and there is silence. I AM

the Mountain. I go into these hills
as into mySelf. Ground hogs, moles,
mushroom, moss, hawk, and helix-
spiral of flower and cone, cicadas
are my messengers. Leaves fallen
from trees are my skin. Gray wolves
are my solitude. Brown bears, my wisdom,
Buffalo rising from my bowls, rushing

through Air of plains, urging the sleeping
Earth, are my Fire. Unearthed, Everest,
Blanc, Kilimanjaro, Shasta, Shambala,
I climb to clouds, copulate in crystal bed
of snow, promiscuous with all the stars,
am the clouds, the Star, am what is beyond,
unseen, unseen, Un/Seen, un/Born
before the blossom and chatter of Spring.

Watery springs gossip sweet news, gurgling
falling from my throat, calling,
calling, calling: come, always, I Am
here; I Am/Mountain all around, above,
below, within. Come, there is nowhere to go....
I AM/singing , the Sound that is always here...

2 March 1999
Hyde Park, everywhere
.

~Elaine Maria Upton

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:51 AM

Poem

Miscellaneous Sonnets, 1842

I

'A POET'!--He hath put his heart to school,
Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff
Which Art hath lodged within his hand--must laugh
By precept only, and shed tears by rule.
Thy Art be Nature; the live current quaff,
And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool,
In fear that else, when Critics grave and cool
Have killed him, Scorn should write his epitaph.
How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold?
Because the lovely little flower is free
Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold;
And so the grandeur of the Forest-tree
Comes not by casting in a formal mould,
But from its 'own' divine vitality.

.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:52 AM

Poem

WEIGHT of awe, not easy to be borne
COMPOSED OR SUGGESTED DURING A TOUR
IN THE SUMMER OF 1833

XLIII. THE MONUMENT COMMONLY CALLED LONG MEG
AND HER DAUGHTERS, NEAR THE RIVER EDEN

A WEIGHT of awe, not easy to be borne,
Fell suddenly upon my Spirit--cast
From the dread bosom of the unknown past,
When first I saw that family forlorn.
Speak Thou, whose massy strength and stature scorn
The power of years--pre-eminent, and placed
Apart, to overlook the circle vast--
Speak, Giant-mother! tell it to the Morn
While she dispels the cumbrous shades of Night;
Let the Moon hear, emerging from a cloud;
At whose behest uprose on British ground
That Sisterhood, in hieroglyphic round
Forth-shadowing, some have deemed, the infinite
The inviolable God, that tames the proud!

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:53 AM

Poem

On The Banks Of A Rocky Stream

BEHOLD an emblem of our human mind
Crowded with thoughts that need a settled home,
Yet, like to eddying balls of foam
Within this whirlpool, they each other chase
Round and round, and neither find
An outlet nor a resting-place!
Stranger, if such disquietude be thine,
Fall on thy knees and sue for help divine.
1846.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:54 AM

Poem

Farewell Lines

"HIGH bliss is only for a higher state,"
But, surely, if severe afflictions borne
With patience merit the reward of peace,
Peace ye deserve; and may the solid good,
Sought by a wise though late exchange, and here
With bounteous hand beneath a cottage-roof
To you accorded, never be withdrawn,
Nor for the world's best promises renounced.
Most soothing was it for a welcome Friend,
Fresh from the crowded city, to behold10
That lonely union, privacy so deep,
Such calm employments, such entire content.
So when the rain is over, the storm laid,
A pair of herons oft-times have I seen,
Upon a rocky islet, side by side,
Drying their feathers in the sun, at ease;
And so, when night with grateful gloom had fallen,
Two glow-worms in such nearness that they shared,
As seemed, their soft self-satisfying light,
Each with the other, on the dewy ground, 20
Where He that made them blesses their repose.--
When wandering among lakes and hills I note,
Once more, those creatures thus by nature paired,
And guarded in their tranquil state of life,
Even, as your happy presence to my mind
Their union brought, will they repay the debt,
And send a thankful spirit back to you,
With hope that we, dear Friends! shall meet again.
1842.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:55 AM

Poem

Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

I Wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay: 10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
1804.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:56 AM

Poem

It Is A Beauteous Evening, Calm And Free

IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea:
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder--everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:56 AM

Poem

My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
1802.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:57 AM

Poem

O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art

O Nightingale! thou surely art
A creature of a "fiery heart":--
These notes of thine--they pierce and pierce;
Tumultuous harmony and fierce!
Thou sing'st as if the God of wine
Had helped thee to a Valentine;
A song in mockery and despite
Of shades, and dews, and silent night;
And steady bliss, and all the loves
Now sleeping in these peaceful groves. 10
I heard a Stock-dove sing or say
His homely tale, this very day;
His voice was buried among trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze:
He did not cease; but cooed--and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed:
He sang of love, with quiet blending,
Slow to begin, and never ending;
Of serious faith, and inward glee;
That was the song--the song for me! 20
1807.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 10:58 AM

Poem

She Was A Phantom Of Delight

SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. 10

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 20

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light. 30
1804.

~William Wordsworth

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:00 AM

Poem

Zen Master Ryokan

Thoughts

When all thoughts
Are exhausted
I slip into the woods
And gather
A pile of shepherd's purse.

Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:00 AM

Poem

no-mind

The flower invites the butterfly with no-mind;
The butterfly visits the flower with no-mind.
The flower opens, the butterfly comes;
The butterfly comes, the flower opens.
I don't know others,
Others don't know me.
By not-knowing we follow nature's course.

from "Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf" translated by John Stevens

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:01 AM

Poem

Lazy

Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:13 AM

Poem

The following are all from: 'Beyond Self: 108 Korean Zen Poems'by Ko Un

*THE HERMIT*

Jang Ku-Song the hermit was busy shitting
when he heard frogs croaking. It made him
recite

The croaking of frogs on moonlit nights in early spring
pierces the world from end to end, makes us all
one family.

Look, if you've had your shit,
wipe yourself and get out of here.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:14 AM

Poem

*THE LOTUS SUTRA*

The Lotus Sutra. Ultimate reality.
So far
you've been bashing me badly.
Now
I'll cudgel you, bastard.
Oh! Ouch!
Take that too.
Oh! Ouch!
Oh! Ouch!

The Lotus Sutra dashed away.
Fields open wide, once the farmers
have gone.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:14 AM

Poem

*A SMILE*

Shakyamuni held up a lotus
so Kashyapa smiled.
Not at all.
The lotus smiled
so Kashyapa smiled.

Nowhere was Shakyamuni!

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:15 AM

Poem

*WHY KILL?*

Let be. Please, let be.
Kill Buddha
if you meet him?
Kill mother and father
if you meet them? Why kill?
Things made of clay all fall to bits
once soaked by monsoon rains.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:16 AM

Poem

*ANANDA*

Even Shakyamuni could never tame Ananda
but Kashyapa kicked him out and tamed him.
Throw away all you know.
Throw away all you don't know.
Then and only then one star shines bright.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:16 AM

Poem

*A SHOOTING STAR*

Wow! You recognized me.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 11:17 AM

Poem

Bankei - Buddha Mind

When we look back on this life, we see that when people are born, no one has thoughts of joy, sadness, hatred, or bitterness. Are we not in the state of the buddha mind bequeathed by our parents? It is after birth that intelligence develops, and people learn bad habits from others in the course of seeing and hearing them. As they grow up, their personal mental habits emerge, and they turn the buddha mind into a monster because of biased self-importance.

People are born with nothing but the unconceived buddha mind, but because of self-importance they want to get their own way, arguing and losing their temper yet claiming it is the stubbornness of others that makes them mad. Getting fixated on what others say, they turn the all-important unique buddha mind into a monster, mulling over useless things, repeating the same thoughts over and over again. They are so foolish they will not give up on things even if getting their own way would in any case prove to be futile. Folly is the cause of animality, so they are inwardly changing the all-important unique buddha mind into a paragon of animality.

Everyone is intelligent, but through lack of under- standing they turn the buddha mind into all sorts of things — hungry ghost, monster, animal. Once you've become an animal, even if you hear truth you don't listen, or even if you do listen, being animal-like, you can't retain what you've heard.

Going from one hellish state to another, from one animalistic state to another, from one ghostly state to another, from darkness to darkness in an endless vicious cycle, you go on experiencing infinite misery for the bad things you have done, with never a break.

This can happen to anyone, once you've gone astray. Just understand the point of not turning the buddha mind into something else.

As soon as a single thought gets fixated on some- thing, you become ordinary mortals. All delusion is like this. You pick up on something confronting you, turn the buddha mind into a monster because of your own self-importance, and go astray on account of your own ego.

Whatever it is confronting you, let it be. As long as you do not pick up on it and react with bias, just remaining in the buddha mind and not transforming it into something else, then delusion cannot occur. This is constant abiding in the unconceived buddha mind.

Everyone makes the mistake of supposing that acquired delusions produced by selfish desire and mental habits are inborn, and so they are unable to avoid confusion....

As I listen to the people who come to me, all of them make the mistake of turning the buddha mind into thoughts, unable to stop, piling thoughts upon thoughts, resulting in the development of ingrained mental habits, which they then believe are inborn and unalterable.

Please understand; this is very important. Once you have unconsciously drifted into delusion, if your state of mind degenerates and you flow downward like a valley stream in a waterfall, there is no way back after you have fallen into vicious cycles.

Again, suppose that you have developed mental habits based on selfish desires. When people criticize things that suit your selfish mentality, you become angry and defensive — since they are, after all, bad things — and you rationalize them as good. When people praise things that do not suit your selfish mentality, you reject them — being, of course, good things — and you retort that they are bad.

Everything is like this. Delusion can make a defect seem like a virtue. Having fallen into ignorance, you go through all sorts of changes, degenerating further and further until you fall into hell, with precious little chance of regaining your humanity.

The most important thing is not to be self-centered; then you cannot fail to remain in the buddha mind spontaneously.

To want to be at least as good as others in every- thing is the worst thing there is. Wanting to be at least as good as others is called egotistic pride. As long as you don't wish to be superior to others, then you won't be inferior either.

Also, when people mistreat us, it is because we have pride. When we consider mistreatment from others to be due to our own defects and so we exam- ine ourselves, then no one in the world is bad.

When angry thoughts arise, they turn the buddha mind into a monster. But anger and delight both, being self-centered, obscure and confuse the lumi- nous buddha mind, so that it goes around in vicious circles. Without subjective bias the buddha mind remains unconceived, so it does not revolve in circles. Let everyone understand this.

From: "Teachings of Zen" Ed. Thomas Cleary

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:27 PM

Poem

Purification

All the evil karma, ever created by me since of old; on account of my beginningless greed, hatred and ignorance; born of my conduct, speech and thought; I now confess openly and fully.

translated from Japanese by Robert Aitken Roshi

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:27 PM

Poem

Cheri Huber
The following passages are from "Trying to be Human" Cheri Huber, Ed. Sara Jenkins

Egocentricity
Egocentricity is the process of wanting something other than what is. Egocentricity means there is an "I" who is separate from everything else and doesn't like it; one thing is happening, but I want a different thing to be happening. Egocentricity is that constant concern with how I feel, what I think, what I'm doing, what I want - looking at what is and seeing it as inadequate. My identity is maintained by the struggle of wanting something other than what is; that is how I continue to know myself.

This practice involves finding a willingness to suffer in order to end our suffering. Instead of spending our time trying to avoid suffering, we just find the willingness to go directly into it. Whenever anything causes us to suffer, we can know two things: suffering is the same as egocentricity, and when it arises, that is our best opportunity to end suffering. As we open to our suffering,as we embrace it, as we accept it, our relationship to it changes. It is no longer something horrible, something to escape from. Suffering becomes just another opportunity, another chance for freedom.

Please find out about that for yourself.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:28 PM

Poem

Getting Impersonal

One thing I like about practicing with a group is that we begin to see how impersonal it all is - all our melodramas that can seem so terribly personal. If we spent six months together, we all would know each other's life stories, and it would be the same story. One person lives in Toledo, another one lives in Shanghai, but it is the same story. Being a human being is pretty much the same for all of us; the differences are far, far less than the similarities. What we think, what we fear, how our emotions arise - fundamentally, we are very much alike. We get caught up in differences in content because that is how we experience ourselves as separate.

Working in a group enables us to see not only how we are all attached to the same things, but how, when we are attached, we suffer, and how, when we come back to the present moment, we cease to suffer. It's that straightforward.

As we see the sameness of our experience, our suffering becomes less charged:our story is one more story among countless stories. It becomes easier to find the courage to bring our attention back to the present, to allow whatever happens simply to happen.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:29 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

1

An ancient buddha said:

For the time being stand on top of the highest peak.
For the time being proceed along the bottom of the deepest ocean.
For the time being three heads and eight arms.
For the time being an eight- or sixteen-foot body.
For the time being a staff or whisk.
For the time being a pillar or lantern.
For the time being the sons of Zhang and Li.
For the time being the earth and sky.

"For the time being" here means time itself is being, and all being is
time. A golden sixteen-foot body is time; because it is time, there is the
radiant illumination of time. Study it as the twelve hours of the present.
"Three heads and eight arms" is time; because it is time, it is not separate
from the twelve hours of the present.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:30 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

2

Even though you do not measure the hours of the day as long or short, far or
near, you still call it twelve hours. Because the signs of time's coming and
going are obvious, people do not doubt it. Although they do not doubt it,
they do not understand it. Or when sentient beings doubt what they do not
understand, their doubt is not firmly fixed. Because of that, their past
doubts do not necessarily coincide with the present doubt. Yet doubt itself
is nothing but time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:30 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

3

The way the self arrays itself is the form of the entire world. See each
thing in this entire world as a moment of time.

Things do not hinder one another, just as moments do not hinder one
another. The way-seeking mind arises in this moment. A way-seeking moment
arises in this mind. It is the same with practice and with attaining the way.
Thus the self setting itself out in array sees itself. This is the
understanding that the self is time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:31 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

4

Know that in this way there are myriads of forms and hundreds of grasses
throughout the entire earth, and yet each grass and each form itself is the
entire earth. The study of this is the beginning of practice.

When you are at this place, there is just one grass, there is just one
form; there is understanding of form and no-understanding of form; there is
understanding of grass and no-understanding of grass. Since there is nothing
but just this moment, the time-being is all the time there is. Grass-being,
form-being are both time.

Each moment is all being, is the entire world. Reflect now whether any
being or any world is left out of the present moment.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:31 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

5

Yet an ordinary person who does not understand buddha-dharma may hear the
words the time-being this way:

For a while I was three heads and eight arms. For a while I was an eight-
or sixteen-foot body. This is like having crossed over rivers and climbed
mountains. Even though the mountains and rivers still exist, I have already
passed them and now reside in the jeweled palace and vermilion tower. Those
mountains and rivers are as distant from me as heaven is from earth.

It is not that simple. At the time the mountains were climbed and the
rivers crossed, you were present. Time is not separate from you, and as you
are present, time does not go away.

As time is not marked by coming and going, the moment you climbed the
mountains is the time-being right now. If time keeps coming and going, you
are the time-being right now. This is the meaning of the time-being.

Does this time-being not swallow up the moment when you climbed the
mountains and the moment when you resided in the jeweled palace and
vermilion tower? Does it not spit them out?

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:32 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

6

Three heads and eight arms may be yesterday's time. The eight- or
sixteen-foot body may be today's time. Yet yesterday and today are both in
the moment when you directly enter the mountains and see thousands and
myriads of peaks. Yesterday's time and today's time do not go away.

Three heads and eight arms move forward as your time-being. It looks as
if they are far away, but they are here and now. The eight- or sixteen-foot
body moves forward as your time-being. It looks as if it is nearby, but it
is exactly here. Thus, a pine tree is time, bamboo is time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:33 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

7

Do not think that time merely flies away. Do not see flying away as the only
function of time. If time merely flies away, you would be separated from
time. The reason you do not clearly understand the time-being is that you
think of time only as passing.

In essence, all things in the entire world are linked with one another
as moments. Because all moments are the time-being, they are your time-being.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:33 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

8

The time-being has the quality of flowing. So-called today flows into
tomorrow, today flows into yesterday, yesterday flows into today. And today
flows into today, tomorrow flows into tomorrow.

Because flowing is a quality of time, moments of past and present do not
overlap or line up side by side. Qingyuan is time, Huangbo is time, Jiangxi
is time, Shitou is time, because self and other are already time.

Practice-enlightenment is time. Being splattered with mud and getting wet
with water is also time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:34 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

9

Although the views of an ordinary person and the causes and conditions of
those views are what the ordinary person sees, they are not necessarily the
ordinary person's truth. The truth merely manifests itself for the time
being as an ordinary person. Because you think your time or your being is
not truth, you believe that the sixteen-foot golden body is not you.

However, your attempts to escape from being the sixteen-foot golden body are nothing but bits and pieces of the time-being. Those who have not yet confirmed this should look into it deeply. The hours of Horse and Sheep,
which are arrayed in the world now, are actualized by ascendings and descendings of the time-being at each moment. The rat is time, the tiger is
time, sentient beings are time, buddhas are time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:35 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

10

At this time you enlighten the entire world with three heads and eight arms,
you enlighten the entire world with the sixteen-foot golden body. To fully
actualize the entire world with the entire world is called thorough practice.

To fully actualize the golden body - to arouse the way-seeking mind,
practice, attain enlightenment, and enter nirvana - is nothing but being, is
nothing but time.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:36 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

11

Just actualize all time as all being; there is nothing extra. A so-called
"extra being" is thoroughly an extra being. Thus, the time-being
half-actualized is half of the time-being completely actualized, and a
moment that seems to be missed is also completely being.

In the same way, even the moment before or after the moment that appears to be missed is also complete-in-itself the time-being. Vigorously abiding in each moment is the time-being. Do not mistakenly confuse it as nonbeing. Do not forcefully assert it as being.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:37 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

12

You may suppose that time is only passing away, and not understand that time never arrives. Although understanding itself is time, understanding does not depend on its own arrival.

People only see time's coming and going, and do not thoroughly
understand that the time-being abides in each moment. This being so, when
can they penetrate the barrier? Even if people recognized the time-being in
each moment, who could give expression to this recognition? Even if they
could give expression to this recognition for a long time, who could stop
looking for the realization of the original face?

According to ordinary people's view of the time-being, even
enlightenment and nirvana as the time-being would be merely aspects of
coming and going.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:38 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

13

The time-being is entirely actualized without being caught up in nets or
cages. Deva kings and heavenly beings appearing right and left are the
time-being of your complete effort right now. The time-being of all beings
throughout the world in water and on land is just the actualization of your
complete effort right now. All beings of all kinds in the visible and
invisible realms are the time-being actualized by your complete effort,
flowing due to your complete effort.

Closely examine this flowing; without your complete effort right now,
nothing would be actualized, nothing would flow.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:39 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

14

Do not think flowing is like wind and rain moving from east to west. The
entire world is not unchangeable, is not immovable. It flows.

Flowing is like spring. Spring with all its numerous aspects is called
flowing. When spring flows there is nothing outside of spring. Study this in
detail.

Spring invariably flows through spring. Although flowing itself is not
spring, flowing occurs throughout spring. Thus, flowing is completed at just
this moment of spring. Examine this thoroughly, coming and going.

In your study of flowing, if you imagine the objective to be outside
yourself and that you flow and move through hundreds and thousands of
worlds, for hundreds, thousands, and myriads of eons, you have not devotedly studied the buddha way.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:39 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

15

Great Master Hongdao of Mt. Yao [Yaoshan], instructed by Shitou, Great
Master Wuji, once went to study with Zen Master Daji of Jiangxi.

Yaoshan asked, "I am familiar with the teaching of the Three Vehicles
and twelve divisions. But what is the meaning of Bodhidharma coming from the
west?"
Zen Master Daji replied:

For the time being have him raise his eyebrows and wink.
For the time being do not have him raise his eyebrows and wink.
For the time being to have him raise his eyebrows and wink is right.
For the time being to have him raise his eyebrows and wink is not right.

Hearing these words, Yaoshan experienced great enlightenment and said to
Daji, "When I was studying with Shitou, it was like a mosquito trying to
bite an iron bull."

What Daji said is not the same as other people's words. The "eyebrows"
and "eyes" are mountains and oceans, because mountains and oceans are
eyebrows and eyes. To "have him raise the eyebrows" is to see the mountains.

To "have him wink" is to understand the oceans. The "right" answer belongs
to him, and he is activated by your having him raise the eyebrows and wink.
"Not right" does not mean not having him raise the eyebrows and wink. Not to
have him raise the eyebrows and wink does not mean not right. These are all
equally the time-being.

Mountains are time. Oceans are time. If they were not time, there would
be no mountains or oceans. Do not think that mountains and oceans here and
now are not time. If time is annihilated, mountains and oceans are
annihilated. As time is not annihilated, mountains and oceans are not
annihilated.

This being so, the morning star appears, the Tathagata appears, the eye
appears, and raising a flower appears. Each is time. If it were not time, it
could not be thus.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:40 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

16

Zen master Guixing of She Prefecture is the heir of Shoushan, a dharma
descendant of Linji. One day he taught the assembly:

For the time being mind arrives, but words do not.
For the time being words arrive, but mind does not.
For the time being both mind and words arrive.
For the time being neither mind nor words arrive.

Both mind and words are the time-being. Both arriving and not-arriving
are the time-being. When the moment of arriving has not appeared, the moment of not-arriving is here. Mind is a donkey, words are a horse.

Having-already-arrived is words and not-having-left is mind. Arriving is not
"coming," not-arriving is not "not yet."

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:41 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

17

The time-being is like this. Arriving is overwhelmed by arriving, but not by
not-arriving. Not-arriving is overwhelmed by not-arriving, but not by
arriving. Mind overwhelms mind and sees mind, words overwhelm words and see words. Overwhelming overwhelms overwhelming and sees overwhelming.
Overwhelming is nothing but overwhelming. This is time.

As overwhelming is caused by you, there is no overwhelming that is
separate from you. Thus you go out and meet someone. Someone meets someone.

You meet yourself. Going out meets going out. If these are not the
actualization of time, they cannot be thus.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:42 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

18

Mind is the moment of actualizing the fundamental point; words are the
moment of going beyond, unlocking the barrier. Arriving is the moment of
casting off the body; not-arriving is the moment of being one with just
this, while being free from just this. In this way you must endeavor to
actualize the time-being.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:42 PM

Poem

The Time-Being

From: 'The Moon in a Dewdrop; writings of Zen Master Dogen'
Translated by Dan Welch and Kazuaki Tanahashi

19

The old masters have thus uttered these words, but is there nothing further
to say?

Mind and words arriving "part-way" are the time-being.
Mind and words not arriving "part-way" are the time-being.

In this manner, you should examine the time-being.

To have him raise the eyebrows and wink is "half" the time-being
To have him raise the eyebrows and wink is the time-being "missed."
Not to have him raise the eyebrows and wink is "half" the time-being.
Not to have him raise the eyebrows and wink is the time-being "missed."

Thus, to study thoroughly, coming and going, and to study thoroughly,
arriving and not-arriving, is the time-being of this moment.

On the first day of winter, first year of Ninji [1240], this was written at
Kosho Horin Monastery.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:43 PM

Poem

The following passages are from 'Enlightenment Unfolds - The Essential Teachings of Zen Master Dogen'

All things are like this...

When dharma does not fill your whole body and mind, you may assume it is already sufficient. When dharma fills your body and mind, you understand that something is missing. For example, when you sail out in a boat to the middle of an ocean where no land is in sight, and view the four directions, the ocean looks circular, and does not look any other way. But the ocean is neither round nor square; its features are infinite in variety. It is like a palace. It is like a jewel. It only looks circular as far as you can see at that time. All things are like this.

Though there are many features in the dusty world and the world beyond conditions, you see and understand only what your eye of practice can reach. In order to learn the nature of the myriad things, you must know that although they may look round or square, the other features of oceans and mountains are infinite in variety; whole worlds are there. It is so not only around you, but also directly beneath your feet, or in a drop of water.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:43 PM

Poem

Permanence and nature of the wind

MAYU, Zen Master Baoche, was fanning himself. A monk ap- proached 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 natare of the wind is perma- nent," 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 the wind. The nature of the 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.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:44 PM

Poem

Moon Reflected On The Water

Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, the moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. The whole moon and the entire sky are reflected in dewdrops on the grass, or even in one drop of water.

Enlightenment does not divide you, just as the moon does not break the water. You cannot hinder enlightenment, just as a drop of water does not hinder the moon in the sky. The depth of the drop is the height of the moon. Each reflection, however long or short its duration, manifests the vastness of the dewdrop, and realizes the limitlessness of the moonlight in the sky.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:46 PM

Poem

Dongshan

Song of the Bright Mirror Samadhi
This dharma as it has been directly entrusted
by buddha ancestors.
Now that you have realized it
you must guard it mindfully.

Snow heaped in a silver bowl,
a heron fading into the bright moon.
Similar but unequal.
Place them side by side
and you will see which is which.

The meaning is not in words.
Inquiring students seek further.
Moving forward creates pitfalls.
Avoidance leads to a standstill.

Faced with a great wall of fire,
turning your back on it and touching it are both wrong.
Expressing it in colorful words
only stains it.

Midnight is bright,
dawn brings no dew.
Things are truth itself
to be used for removing delusion.
This is not created
and yet not inexpressible.

As form and image face each other
in a bright mirror,
you are not it
but it is you.

It is like a baby
perfectly possessing five freedoms:
Not coming, not going,
not rising, not staying...

And goo goo wa wa -
words that are not words.
In the end nothing is grasped
because speech is not precise.

In the double-split hexagrams
the particular and the general integrate.
When the lines are closed they become three,
and its final change makes five.

A blade of zhi grass has five flavors,
A vajra has five points.
Within the general, something marvelous lies.
Drumming and singing go together.

Penetrating the source, penetrating the paths.
Here is a short path, here is a long path.
If you miss it, that's a good sign.
Don't neglect it.

What is natural and inconceivable
belongs neither to delusion nor enlightenment.
Causes and conditions right at this moment
shine completely in silence.

So minute that it penetrates any space.
So enormous that it exceeds all bounds.
The slightest difference
puts it out of tune.

Because the basic teachings of sudden and gradual
have been set up,
the Zen school has become divided.
These ways have become standard.
Even though you master such teachings
the truth keeps on escaping.

You may sit still but waver inside -
a tied up horse, or a cowering rat.
The Ancient Teacher pitied us
and transmitted the dharma.

Because of our delusions
we say black is white.
When delusions disappear
understanding reveals itself.

If you wish to conform to the old ways,
take a lesson from the past.
People trying to attain the buddha way
by gazing for ten eons at a tree
are like a tiger with tattered ears
or a hobbled horse.

A greedy mind sees
rare treasures.
A surprised mind sees
raccoons and white bulls.

Legendary bowman Yi with his skill
shoots the mark a hundred paces away.
When arrowheads meet head-on,
is it only a matter of skill?

Right when a wooden man sings
a stone woman gets up and dances.
It's not within the reach of knowledge
nor does it admit ideas.

Retainers serve their lord;
children obey their father.
Without obedience there is no respect;
without service there is no civic virtue.

Conceal your practice, work inside.
Be ignorant, look foolish.
Just keep on doing it.
This is called host with host.

From: Essential Zen eds. Kazuaki Tanahashi & Tensho David Schneider

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:49 PM

Poem

HSIN HSIN MING

Verses on the Faith Mind by The 3rd Zen Patriarch, Sengstau

The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. When love and hate are both absent everything becomes clear and undisguised. Make the smallest distinction, however, and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.

If you wish to see the truth then hold no opinions for or against anything. To set up what you like against what you dislike is the disease of the mind.

When the deep meaning of things is not understood the mind's essential peace is disturbed to no avail.

The Way is perfect like vast space when nothing is lacking and nothing is in excess.

Indeed, it is due to our choosing to accept or reject that we do not see the true nature of things.

Live neither in the entanglements of outer things nor in inner feelings of emptiness.

Be serene in the oneness of things and such erroneous views will disappear by themselves.

When you try to stop activity to achieve passivity your very effort fills you with activity.

As long as you remain in one extreme or the other you will never know Oneness.

Those who do not live in the single Way fail in both activity and passivity, assertion and denial.

To deny the reality of things is to miss their reality; to assert the emptiness of things is to miss their reality.

The more you talk and think about it, the further astray you wander from the truth.

Stop talking and thinking, and there is nothing you will not be able to know.

To return to the root is to find the meaning, but to pursue appearances is to miss the source.

At the moment of inner enlightenment there is a going beyond appearance and emptiness.

The changes that appear to occur in the empty world we call real only because of our ignorance.

Do not search for the truth; only cease to cherish opinions.

Do not remain in the dualistic state -- avoid such pursuits carefully.

If there is even a trace of this and that, of right and wrong, the Mind-essence will be lost in confusion.

Although all dualities come from the One, do not be attached even to this One.

When the mind exists undisturbed in the Way, nothing in the world can offend, and when such a thing can no longer offend, it ceases to exist in the old way.

When no discriminating thoughts arise, the old mind ceases to exist.

When thought objects vanish, the thinking-subject vanishes, as when the mind vanishes, objects vanish.

Things are objects because of the subject (mind); the mind (subject) is such because of things (object).

Understand the relativity of these two and the basic reality: the unity of emptiness.

In this emptiness the two are indistinguishable and each contains in itself the whole world.

If you do not discriminate between coarse and fine you will not be tempted to prejudice and opinion.

To live in the Great Way is neither easy nor difficult, but those with limited views are fearful and irresolute; the faster they hurry, the slower they go, and clinging (attachment) cannot be limited; even to be attached to the idea of enlightenment is to go astray.

Just let things be in their own way and there will be neither coming nor going.

Obey the nature of things (your own nature), and you will walk freely and undisturbed.

When thought is in bondage the truth is hidden, for everything is murky and unclear, and the burdensome practice of judging brings annoyance and weariness.

What benefits can be derived from distinctions and separations?

If you wish to move in the One Way do not dislike even the world of senses and ideas.

Indeed, to accept them fully is identical with true Enlightenment.

The wise man strives to no goals but the foolish man fetters himself.

There is one Dharma, not many; distinctions arise from the clinging needs of the ignorant.

To seek Mind with the (discriminating) mind is the greatest of all mistakes.

Rest and unrest derive from illusion; with enlightenment there is no liking and disliking.

All dualities come from ignorant inference. They are like dreams or flowers in air: foolish to try to grasp them.

Gain and loss, right and wrong: such thoughts must finally be abolished at once.

If the eye never sleeps, all dreams will naturally cease.

If the mind makes no discriminations, the ten thousand things are as they are, of single essence.

To understand the mystery of this One-essence is to be released from all entanglements.

When all things are seen equally the timeless Self-essence is reached.

No comparisons or analogies are possible in this causeless, relationless state.

Consider movement stationary and the stationary in motion, both movement and rest disappear.

When such dualities cease to exist Oneness itself cannot exist.

To this ultimate finality no law or description applies.

For the unified mind in accord with the Way all self-centered striving ceases.

Doubts and irresolutions vanish and life in true faith is possible.

With a single stroke we are freed from bondage; nothing clings to us and we hold to nothing.

All is empty, clear, self-illuminating, with no exertion of the mind's power.

Here thought, feeling, knowledge, and imagination are of no value.

In this world of suchness there is neither self nor other-than-self.

To come directly into harmony with this reality just simply say when doubt arises, 'Not two.'

In this 'not two' nothing is separate, nothing is excluded.

No matter when or where, enlightenment means entering this truth.

And this truth is beyond extension or diminution in time or space; in it a single thought is ten thousand years.

Emptiness here, Emptiness there, but the infinite universe stands always before your eyes.

Infinitely large and infinitely small; no difference, for definitions have vanished and no boundaries are seen.

So too with Being and Non-Being.

Don't waste time with doubts and arguments that have nothing to do with this.

One thing, all things: move among and intermingle, without distinction.

To live in this realization is to be without anxiety about non-perfection.

To live in this faith is the road to non-duality, because the non-dual is one with trusting mind.

Words!

The Way is beyond language, for in it there is no yesterday, no tomorrow, no today.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:52 PM

Poem

Huang Po

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of Huang Po," ed John Blofeld.

Regarding this Zen Doctrine of ours, since it was first trasmitted, it has never been taught that men should seek for learning or form concepts. "Studying the Way" is just a figure of speech. It is a method of arousing people's interest in the early stages of their development. In fact, the Way is not something which can be studied. Study leads to the retention of concepts and so the Way is entirely misunderstood. Moreover, the Way is not something specially existing; it is something called Mahayana Mind - Mind which is not to be found inside, outside, or in the middle. Truly it is not located anywhere. The first step is to refrain from knowledge-based concepts. This implies that if you were to follow the empirical method to the utmost limit, on reaching that limit you would still be unable to locate Mind. The way is spiritual Truth and was originally without name or title. It was only because people ignorantly sought for it empirically that the Buddhas appeared and taught them to eradicate this method of approach. Fearing that no one would understand, they selected the name 'Way.' You must not allow this name to lead you into a mental concept of a road. So it is said, 'When the fish is caught we pay no more attention to the trap.' When body and mind achieve spontaneity, the Way is reached and Mind is understood. A shramana is so called because he has penetrated to the original source of all things. The fruit of attaining the shramana stage is gained by putting an end to all anxiety; it does not come from book-learning.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:52 PM

Poem

Huang Po

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of Huang Po," ed John Blofeld.

Though others may talk of the Way of the Bhuddas as something to be reached by various pious practices and by sutra study, you must have nothing to do with such ideas. A perception, sudden as blinking, that subject and object are one, will lead to a deeply mysterious wordless understanding; and by this understanding will you awake to the truth of Zen. When you happen upon someone who has no understanding, you must claim to know nothing. He may he delighted by his discovery of some "way to Enlightenment"; yet if you allow yourselves to be persuaded by him, you will experience no delight at all, but suffer both sorrow and disappointment. What have such thoughts as his to do with the study of Zen? Even if you do obtain from him some trifling "method," it will only be a thought-constructed dharma having nothing to do with Zen. Thus, Bodhidharma sat rapt in meditation before a wall; he did not seek to lead people into having opinions. Therefore it is written: "To put out of the mind even the principle from which action springs is the true teaching of the Buddhas, while dualism belongs to the sphere of the demons." Your true nature is something never lost to you even in moments of delusion, nor is it gained at the moment of Enlightenment. It is the Nature of the Bhutatathata. In it is neither delusion nor right understanding. It fills the Void everywhere and is intrinsically of the substance of the One Mind. How, then, can your mind-created objects exist outside of the Void? The Void is fundamentally without spacial dimensions, passions, activities,delusions, or right understanding. You must clearly understand that in it there are no things, no men, no Buddhas; for this Void contains not the smallest hairsbreadth of anything that can be viewed spacially; it depends on nothing and is attached to nothing. It is all-pervading, spotless beauty;it is the self-existent and uncreated Absolute. Then how can it ever be a matter for discussion that the real Buddha has no mouth and preaches no dharma, or that real hearing requires no ears, for who could hear it? Ah,it is a jewel beyond all price!

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:53 PM

Poem

Huang Po

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of Huang Po," ed John Blofeld.

The master said to me: All the Buddhas and all sentient beings are nothing but the One Mind, beside which nothing exists. This Mind, which is without beginning, is unborn and indestructible. It is not green nor yellow, and has neither form nor appearance. It does not belong to the categories of things which exist or do not exist, nor can it be thought of in terms of new or old. It is neither long nor short, big nor small, for it transcends all limits, measures, names, traces and comparisons. It is that which you see before you - begin to reason about it and you at once fall into error. It is like the boundless void which cannot be fathomed or measured. The One Mind alone is the Buddha, and there is no distinction between the Buddha and sentient things, but that sentient beings are attached to forms and so seek externally for Buddhahood. By their very seeking they lose it, for that is using the Buddha to seek for the Buddha and using mind to grasp Mind. Even though they do their utmost for a full aeon, they will not be able to attain it. They do not know that, if they put a stop to conceptual thought and forget their anxiety, the Buddha will appear before them, for this Mind is the Buddha and the Buddha is all living beings. It is not the less for being manifested in ordinary beings, nor is it greater for being manifested in the Buddhas.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:54 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

The Master instructed the group, saying: "Those who study the Dharma of the buddhas these days should approach it with a true and proper understanding. If you approach it with a true and proper understanding, you won't be affected by considerations of birth and death, you'll be free to go or stay as you please. You don't have to strive for benefits, benefits will come of themselves.

"Followers of the Way, the outstanding teachers from times past have all had ways of drawing people out. What I want myself to impress on you is that you mustn't be led astray by others. If you want to use this thing, then use it and have no doubts or hesitations!

"When students today fail to make progress, where's the fault? The fault lies in the fact that they don't have faith in themselves! If you don't have faith in yourself, then you'll be forever in a hurry trying to keep up with everything around you, you'll be twisted and turned by whatever environment you're in and you can never move freely. But if you can just stop this mind that goes rushing around moment by moment looking for something, then you'll be no different from the patriarchs and buddhas. Do you want to get to know the patriarchs and buddhas? They're none other than you, the people standing in front of me listening to this lecture on the Dharma! "Students don't have enough faith in themselves, and so they rush around looking for something outside themselves. But even if they get something, all it will be is words and phrases, pretty appearances. They'll never get at the living thought of the patriarchs!

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:56 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"Make no mistake, you followers of Ch'an. If you don't find it in this life, then for a thousand kalpas you'll be born again and again in the three-fold world, you'll be lured off by what you think are favorable environments and be born in the belly of a donkey or a cow!

"Followers of the Way, as I look at it, we're no different from Shakyamuni. In all our various activities each day, is there anything we lack? The wonderful light of the six faculties has never for a moment ceased to shine. If you could just look at it this way, then you'd be the kind of person who has nothing to do for the rest of his life.

"Fellow believers, 'There is no safety in the threefold world; it is like a burning house.' This is no place for you to linger long! The deadly demon of impermanence will be on you in an instant, regardless of whether you're rich or poor, old or young.

"If you want to be no different from the patriarchs and buddhas, then never look for something outside yourselves. The clean pure light in a moment of your mind--that is the Essence-body of the Buddha lodged in you. The undifferentiated light in a moment of your mind~that is the Bliss-body of the Buddha lodged in you. The undiscriminating light in a moment of your mind--that is the Transformtion-body of the Buddha lodged in you. These three types of bodies are you, the person who stands before me now listening to this lecture on the Dharma! And simply because you do not rush around seeking anything outside yourselves, you can command these fine faculties.

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:58 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"According to the expounders of the sutras and treatises, the threefold body is to be taken as some kind of ultimate goal. But as I see it, that's not so. This threefold body is nothing but mere names. Or they're three types of dependencies. One man of early times said, 'The body depends on doctrine for its definition, and the land is discussed in terms of the reality.' This'body' of the Dharma-realm, or reality, and this'land' of the Dharma-realm we can see clearly are no more than flickering lights.

"Followers of the Way, you should realize that the person who manipulates these flickering lights is the source of the buddhas, the home that all followers of the way should return to. Your physical body made up of the four great elements doesn't know how to preach the Dharma or listen to the Dharma. Your spleen and stomach, your liver and gall, don't know how to preach the Dharma or listen to the Dharma. The empty spaces don't know how to preach the Dharma or listen to the Dharma. What is it, then, that knows how to preach the Dharma or listen to the Dharma? It is you who are right here before my eyes, this lone brightness without fixed shape or form--this is what knows how to preach the Dharma and listen to the Dharma. If you can see it this way, you'll be no different from the patriarchs and the buddhas.

"But never at any time let go of this even for a moment. Everything ~ that meets your eyes is this. But'when feelings arise, wisdom is blocked; when thoughts waver, reality departs,' therefore you keep being reborn again and again in the threefold world and undergoing all kinds of misery. But as I see it, there are none of you incapable of profound understanding, none of you are incapable of emancipation.

"Followers of the Way, this thing called mind has no fixed form; it penetrates all the ten directions. In the eye we call it sight; in the ear we call it hearing; in the nose it detects odors, in the mouth it speaks discourse; in the hand it grasps, in the feet it runs along. Basically it is a single bright essence, but it divides itself into these six functions. And because this single mind has no fixed form, it is everywhere in a state of emancipation. Why do I tell you this? Because you followers of the Way seem to be incapable of stopping this mind that goes rushing around everywhere looking for something. So you get caught up in those idle devices of the men of old.

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 01:59 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

Someone asked, "What is the Buddha devil?" The Master said, "If you have doubts in your mind for an instant, that's the Buddha devil. But if you can understand that the ten thousand phenomena were never born, that the mind is like a conjurers trick, then not one speck of dust, not one phenomenon will exist. Everywhere will be clean and pure, and this will be Buddha. Buddha and devil just refer to two states, one stained, one pure.

"As I see it, there's no Buddha, no living beings, no long ago, no now. If you want to get it, you've already got it--it's not something that requires time. There's no religious practice, no enlightenment, no getting anything, no missing out on anything. At no time is there any other Dharma than this. If anyone claims there is a Dharma superior to this, I say it must be a dream, a phantom. All I have to say to you is simply this. "Followers of the Way, this lone brightness before my eyes now, this person plainly listening to me--this person is unimpeded at any point but penetrates the ten directions, free to do as he pleases in the threefold world. No matter what the environment he may encounter, with its peculiarities and differences, he cannot be swayed or pulled awry. In the space of an instant he makes his way into the Dharma-realm. If he meets a buddha he preaches to the buddha, if he meets a patriarch, he preaches to the patriarch, if he meets an arhat, he preaches to the arhat, if he meets a hungry ghost, he preaches to the hungry ghost. He goes everywhere, wandering through many lands, teaching and converting living beings, yet never becomes separated from his single thought. Every place for him is clean and pure, his light pierces the ten directions, the ten thousand phenomena are a single thusness.

"Followers of the Way, you take the words that come out of the mouths of a bunch of old teachers to be a description of the true Way. You think, 'This is a most wonderful teacher and friend. I have only the mind of a common mortal, I would never dare to try to fathom such venerableness.' Blind idiots! You go through life with this kind of understanding, betraying your own two eyes, cringing and faltering like a donkey on an icy road, saying, 'I would never dare speak ill of such a good friend, I'd be afraid of making mouth karma!'

"Followers of the Way, the really good friend is someone who dares speak ill of the Buddha, speak ill of the patriarchs, pass judgment on anyone in the world, throw away the Tripitaka, revile those little children, and in the midst of opposition and assent search out the real person. So for the past twelve years, though I've looked for this thing called karma, I've never found so much as a particle of it the size of a mustard seed.

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:00 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"Those Ch'an masters who are as timid as a new bride are afraid they might be expelled from the monastery or deprived of their meal of rice, worrying and fretting. But from times past the real teachers, wherever they went, were never listened to and were always driven out--that's how you know they were men of worth. If everybody approves of you wherever you go, what use can you be? Hence the saying, let the lion give one roar and the brains of the little foxes will split open.

"Followers of the Way, here and there you hear it said that there is a Way to be practiced, a Dharma to become enlightened to. Will you tell me then just what Dharma there is to be enlightened to, what Way there is to practice? In your present aetivities, what is it you lack, what is it that practice must mend? But those little greenhorn monks don't understand this and immediately put faith in that bunch of wild fox spirits, letting them spout their ideas and tie people in knots, saying, 'When principle and practice match one another and proper precaution is taken with regard to the three types of karma of body, mouth, and mind, only then can one attain Budhahood.' People who go on like that are as plentiful as springtime showers.

"A man of old said, 'If along the road you meet a man who is master of the Way, whatever you do, don't talk to him about the Way.' Therefore it is said, 'If a person practices the way, the Way will never proceed. Instead, ten thousand kinds of mistaken environments will vie in poking up their heads. But if the sword of wisdom comes to cut them all down, then even before the bright signs manifest themselves, the dark signs will have become bright. Therefore a man of old said, 'The everyday mind--that is the Way.' "Fellow believers, what are you looking for? This man of the Way who depends on nothing, here before my eyes now listening to the Dharma--his brightness shines clearly, he has never lacked anything. If you want to be no different from the patriarchs and buddhas, learn to see it this way and -- never give in to doubt or questioning. When your mind moment by moment never differentiates, it may be called the living patriarch. If the mind differentiates, its nature and manifestations become separated from one another. But so long as it does not differentiate, its nature and manifestations do not become separated."

Someone asked, "What do you mean by the true Buddha, the true Dharma, and the true Way? Would you be good enough to explain to us?" The Master said, "Buddha--this is the cleanness and purity of the mind. The Dharma--this is the shining brightness of the mind. The Way--this is the pure light that is never obstructed anywhere. The three are in fact one. All are empty names and have no true reality.

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:01 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"The true and proper man of the Way from moment to moment never permits any interruption in his mind. When the great teacher Bodhidharma came from the west, he was simply looking for a man who would not be misled by others. Later the Second Patriarch encountered Bodhidharma, and after hearing one word, he understood. Then for the first time he realized that up to then he had been engaged in useless activity and striving.

"My understanding today is no different from that of the patriachs and buddhas. If you get it with the first phrase, you can be a teacher of the patriarchs and buddhas. If you get it with the second phrase, you can be a teacher of human and heavenly beings. If you get it with the third phrase, you can't even save yourself!"

Someone asked, "What was Bodhidharma's purpose in coming from the west?" The Master said, "If he had had a purpose, he wouldn't have been able to save even himself!"The questioner said, "If he had no purpose, then how did the Second Patriarch manage to get the Dharma?" The Master said, "Getting means not getting." "If it means not getting," said the questioner, "then what do you mean by not getting?"

The Master said, "You can't seem to stop your mind from racing around everywhere seeking something. That's why the patriarch said, 'Hopeless fellows--using their heads to look for their heads!' You must right now turn your light around and shine it on yourselves, not go seeking somewhere else. Then you will understand that in body and mind you are no different from the patriarchs and the buddhas, and that there is nothing to do. Do that and you may speak of'getting the Dharma.'

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:01 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"Fellow believers, at this time, having found it impossible to refuse, I have been addressing you, putting forth a lot of trashy talk. But make no mistake! In my view, there are in fact no great number of principles to be grasped. If you want to use the thing, then use it. If you don't want to use it, then let it be.

"Followers of the Way, don't take the Buddha to be some sort of ultimate goal. In my view he's more like the hole in a privy. Bodhisattvas and arhats are so many cangues and chains, things for fettering people. Therefore, Manjushri grasped his sword, ready to kill Gautama, and Angulimala, blade in hand, tried to do injury to Shakyamuni.

"Followers of the Way, there is no Buddha to be gained, and the Three Vehicles, the five natures, the teaching of the perfect and immediate enlightenment are all simply medicines to cure diseases of the moment. None have any true reality. Even if they had, they would still all be mere shams, placards proclaiming superticial matters, so many words lined up, pronouncements of such kind.

"Followers of the Way, there are certain baldheads who turn all their efforts inward, seeking in this way to find some otherworldly truth. But they are completely mistaken! Seek the Buddha and you'll lose the Buddha. Seek the Way and you'll lose the Way. Seek the patriarchs and you'll lose the patriarchs.

Continued Below

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:02 PM

Poem

Rinzai

Derived from the Ch'an master Lin Chi, the Japanese
Rinzai school is known for extensive use of koans.

The following passages are from "The Zen Teachings of
Master Lin-Chi" translated by Burton Watson:

Continuation

"Fellow believers, don't mistake me! I don't care whether you understand the sutras and treatises. I don't care whether you are rulers or great statesmen. I don't care whether you can pour out torrents of eloquence. 1 don't care whether you display brilliant intellects. All I ask is that you have true and proper understanding."

"Fellow believers, do not use your minds in a mistaken manner, but be like the sea which rejects the bodies of the dead. While you continue to carry such dead bodies and go racing around the world with them, you only obstruct your own vision and create obstacles in your mind. When no clouds block the sun, the beautiful light of heaven shines everywhere. When no disease afflicts the eye, it does not see phantom flowers in the empty air.

"Followers of the Way, if you wish to be always in accord with the Dharma, never give way to doubt. 'Spread it out and it fills the whole Dharma-realm, gather it up and it's tinier than a thread of hair.' Its lone brightness gleaming forth, it has never lacked anything. 'The eye doesn't see it, the ear doesn't hear it.' What shall we call this thing? A man of old said, 'Say something about a thing and already you're off the mark.' You'll just have to see it for yourselves. What other way is there? But there's no end to this talk. Each of you, do your best! Thank you for your trouble."

The Master was entering an army encampment to attend a dinner when he saw one of the officers at the gate. He pointed to a bare wooden gatepost and said, "A common mortal or a sage?" The officer had no reply. The Master struck the gatepost and said, "Even if you had managed a reply, it would still just be a wooden post!" With that he entered the camp.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:03 PM

Poem

Sonome - a Lone Lamp

Sonome was a well-known poetess and a profound student of Buddhism. She once wrote to Zen master Unko: "To seek neither reality nor falsehood is the root source of the Great Way. Everyone knows this, so even if I seem immodest for saying so, I do not think this is anything special. As goings-on in the source of one mind, the willows are green, the flowers are red. Just being as it is, I pass the time reciting verse and composing poetry. If this is useless chatter, then the scriptures are also useless chatter. I dislike anything that stinks of religion, and my daily practice is invocation, poetry,and song. If I go to paradise, that's fine; if I fall into hell, that's auspicious."

*By myself I remember
not to seek mind;
the green lamp has already illumined
my lone lamp heart.
Whether in clamor or silence,
I have a clear mirror:
it thoroughly discerns
pure hearts among humans.

It is not something existing,
that anyone can see and know,
nor does it not exist:
such is the lamp of truth.*

When Sonome was about to pass on, she bade farewell to the world with this poem:

*The sky of the autumn moon
and the warmth of spring:
Is it a dream? Is it real?
Hail to the Buddha of Infinite Light!*

From: "Zen Antics," Thomas Cleary

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:04 PM

Poem

Chao-Chou - Etiquette, and Hell

One day the Prince Governor of [the] Prefecture came with
the royal princes and scholars to visti the temple. Remaining
seated, the Master inquired, "Great Prince, have you
understanding of this? The Prince replied, "No, I cannot
grasp it."

The Master said, "Since my youth I have kept a vegetarian
diet and my body is already aged. Even if I see people, I have
no strength to descend from the Ch'an seat."

The Prince felt great admiration for the Master. The next
day he sent a general to the Master with a message, and the
Master came down from the seat in order to receive him.

Afterwards the Master's attendant said, "Master, you did
not come down from the Ch'an seat even when you saw the
great Prince coming to visit you. Why did you descend from
it for the general who came to see you today?" The Master
replied, "My etiquette is not your etiquette. When a
superior class of man comes, I deal with him from the Ch'an
seat; when a middle grade of man comes, I get down to deal
with him; and for the dealings with men of low grade, I step
outside the temple gate...."

Someone asked, "Master, will you enter into Hell?"
The Master said, "[I'll be] the first to enter it."
The man said, "Why should a great and good Ch'an master
enter Hell? The Master said, "Who would transform you
through the teaching if I had not entered it?"

From: "The Roaring Stream," edited by Foster and Shoemaker

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:05 PM

Poem

Ryonen's Clear Realization

The Buddhist nun known as Ryonen was born in 1797. She was a granddaughter of the famous Japanese warrior Shingen. Her poetical genius and alluring beauty were such that at seventeen she was serving the empress as one of the ladies of the court. Even at such a youthful age fame awaited her.

The beloved empress died suddenly and Ryonen's hopeful dreams vanished. She became acutely aware of the impermanence of life in this world. It was then that she desired to study Zen. Her relatives disagreed, however, and practically forced her into marriage. With a promise that she might become a nun after she had borne three children, Ryonen assented. Before she was twenty-five she had accomplished this condition. Then her husband and her relatives could no longer dissuade her from her desire. She shaved her head, took the name of Ryonen, which means to realize clearly, and started on her pilgrimage. She came to the city of Edo and asked Tetsugyu to accept her as a disciple. At one glance the master rejected her because she was too beautiful.

Ryonen then went to another master, Hakuo. Hakuo refused her for the same reason, saying that her beauty would only make trouble. Ryonen obtained a hot iron and placed it against her face. In a few moments her beauty had vanished forever.

Hakuo then accepted her as a disciple. Commemorating this occasion, Ryonen wrote a poem on the back of a little mirror:

In the service of my Empress I burned incense to perfume my exquisite clothes, Now as a homeless mendicant I burn my face to enter a Zen temple.

When Ryonen was about to pass from this world, she wrote another poem:

Sixty-six times have these eyes beheld the
changing scene of autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight,
Ask no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars
when no wind stirs.

From: "Zen Flesh, Zen Bones" Paul Reps

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:07 PM

Poem

"There's one sad truth in life I've found, While journeying east and west
The only folks we really wound, Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow, To those who love us best."

~ Ella Wilcox

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:09 PM

Poem

Daddy Told Me.....

Carlee L. Ranger

I was told I was living a lie
I was told don't bother to cry
I was told they no longer did care
I was told I love you, they did not dare

I was told I am a bad role model for my sister and brother
I was told I was betrayed by my mother
I was told my mother did not love me
I was told that is why she chose to flee
I was told, the love I have for my mother to hide
I was told I later picked the wrong side

I was told the abuse I got was 'tough love'
I was told that while getting a shove
I was told I brought them to shame
I was told I were many horrible names

I was told I was not the daughter they had in mind
I was told the love for me they could not find
I was told I was expected to fall
I was told they would not help when they received that call

I was told I was going no where
I was told to stay far from there
I was told I would not make much of my life
I was told she'd be the one to cut with a knife
I was told they would leave me alone
I was told I was a daughter disowned
Daddy no longer wants his little girl'

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:10 PM

Poem

New Life

Racheal E. Bartels

Why can't you love me and accept me for who I am?
I always try my hardest; I do the best I can.
Can't you see how sad I've been?
The way you treated me must have been a sin.
For a long time, I've tried to make you proud.
But instead of encouraging words, I get put down.
Stop trying to live my life for me.
I'm not a kid anymore, damn it, just let me be.
You don't like my friends, boyfriend, or anything I do.
Tell me, what the hell did I ever do to you?
You married a jerk, who disrespects me.
You always take his side, and turn against me.
I've moved in with my dad and Joan.
They welcomed me with open arms; this is my new home.
They treat me with respect, and they love me for me.
No matter what, I'm here for them, and they're here for me.
I've never felt this happy before; happiness for me was rare.
Now that I'm happy in this new life of mine, do you even care?

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:11 PM

Poem

Almost A Month After I Wrote This Poem For My Aunt, which He Never Saw....he Went To My Parents House And Waited For My Mom To Leave For Work But She Didn't Have To Go That Day. I Guess He Left And Came Back. He Walked Into My Parents House Where My Dad Was Reclined In His Favorite Chair Watching Television And He Shot Him With A Rifle Through The Heart, all Because My Aunt Finally Left Him, she And My Mom Are Identical Twins And Very Close Which He Was Jealous Of. They Let Her Stay With Them. So I Guess Since He Didn't Get My Mom He Decided To Take What Was Precious To Her, Her Husband And Best Friend Of 39 Years. He Then Drove To Her Work To See If She Was There And Intended On Killing Her Too. He Ran For A Week Before He Was Caught In Mobile Alabama, He Was Denied Bond And Now Awaits His Trial, please Pray For Our Family And Pray Justice Is Served. Oh He Was Also One Of The Main Deacons Off Our Church!!!!!

Set Her Free

Nita

Why Do You Do This To Her? Why Do You Make Her Cry And Hide Her Fears So Deep Inside? Is She Not Beautiful Enough Or Does She Not Have Enough Wit Or Charm? Why Is That You Make Her Feel Like A Dog That You Have Chained To The Tree And Trained To Answer Only At You’re Beck and Call? Misery And Pain Is What You Have Taught Her To Believe In, Will She Ever Get The Courage To Run And Get Away? To Me You Are The Devil In Disguise Constantly Standing Over Her Watching From The Corner Of You’re Eye. Do You Think You’re Perfect? Do You Think That We Should Just Sit Back And Watch Her Become More Miserable Every Passing Day Because You Have Taught Her To Believe That Without You She Can’t Get By? You Credent You Rodent You Evil Man In My Eyes I See The Truth And From Me That You Can Not Hide!!!! Some May Sit Back And Watch You Make Her Die Inside, But As For Me I Will Bring Back That Sparkle I Have Seen In Her Eyes. I Will Not Cover For You I Will Not Lie. I Will Not Sit Back And Let You’re Wickedness Slowly Kill Who She Really Is So Deep Inside. Courage And Bravery Is What I Will Make Arise From My Beautiful Aunt. You Try To Keep For Yourself To Hide You’re Own Pity And Worthlessness , You Are No Better, You Are No Good, Wake Up And Face The Truth Without Her You Are Nothing But A Menace To Society A Fake A Fraud And A Pitiful Excuse For Anyone To Call A Husband But Even More You’re Not Even Worth Having The Title Of Being Called A Man. Let Her Go, Let Her Live, let Her Be Set Free. Hide In You’re Corner And Reflect On What You Are Because While You Try To Hold Her There And Constantly Whisper How She Is No Good And Can Never Do Right. I Will Be There Beside Her Constantly Praising Her And Directing Her To Another World Far From You. she Will Win, You Will Lose And One Day She Will Wake And See You For The Beast We Know You To Be. All The Misery All The Pain All The Tears And Agony You Have Dished Out Will One Day Come To Haunt You And Bring You Down The Way You Have Her. While You Huddle In A Corner So Lonely And Cry You’re Selfish Tears. She Will Be Happy And Free To Live Her Life And Be Able To Finally Become Who She Has Always Wanted To Be.........you’re The Devil On Her Shoulder I’m The Angel And In The End The Good Always Wins...because You Have To Have Her. I Want To Have Her, You Have To Make Her Think You Love Her I Just Smile And She Knows...it’s A Fair Game Let Me Show You Who Will Win, It Will Not Be You, It Will Not Be Me But It Will Be Her And She Will Finally Be The Woman We Know Her To Be. I Wish You Well And Bid You Goodbye Because From This Day You Are Nothing To Me But A Speck Of Dirt Passing By You Credent You Rodent Goodbye!!!

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:13 PM

Poem

Daddy Are You There?

Sara

Daddy, is that you, in that coffin fast asleep?

Is that you daddy? The same person that made mummy weep?

Why are they lowering you into the ground?

Come back up! Where it's safe and sound!

Daddy, it's been a week. Why haven't you tucked me into bed?

You'll never miss a bedtime story. At least that’s what you said.

Daddy, I'm going into kindergarten! I'm a big kid now!

Daddy, Mummy said we can get a kitty and the kitty said meow!

Daddy, I asked Mummy when you are coming back.

She said that I'll see you in heaven!

Hey, did I tell you? My birthday's next week!

I'm gonna be seven!

Daddy, I know now you're dead. I miss you a lot. At night, sometimes I even cry.

Daddy, I'm in sixth grade now! Junior High!

Daddy, I have a crush and he's really cute.

Was Mum ever hot? Did she really play the flute?

Dad, I'm going to college now, I hope you like Yale.

I'm gonna be a doctor, helping people to prevail.

Dad, guess what? I'm marrying Scott.

Oh and I'm pregnant! Eight months is a lot!

Hey, Dad it's a boy.

Jack is so cute.

Is it just me or am I that unappealing?

Dad, Scott wants a divorce. Does he know what I'm feeling?

Jack’s going off to college today.

Dad, it'll be just me now that Jack's away.

Dad, I've got cancer, the same kind as yours.
Chemotherapy is draining, and of course
there's no cure.

Dad, I think I'll see you again in a short while.

But at least my life was very worthwhile.
People can't say you were never here for me.

Dad, 'cause you were here my whole life, when I needed you in my heart you would be.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:17 PM

Poem

A son pleading for his father not to leave tells him how special he is.

Hey Daddy Please Come Back

Jesse-Ryan G. Debenport

Hey Daddy,

There are a couple of things I think you missed
So write this down, make a little list
Here are a couple of things that I want you to remember
That sometimes you seem to forget
You're not the only one
There are also a couple of things that I need to fix

Hey Daddy,

Don't forget to tell me you love me
Don't be too embarrassed to grab me and hug me
If it makes you feel better, go ahead and slug me

Hey Daddy,

No matter how much you bug me
Just know that I enjoy your company
Laughing when you make fun of me

Hey Daddy,

I'll try and set aside the girls
At least one day a week
So you won't get so mad at me
So we can hop in the truck and go four-wheeling

Hey Daddy,

Remind me to give you a hug goodnight
I never want you to feel
Like I'm leaving you out to dry
Don't be afraid to grab my hand
Just because it doesn't feel right
I never wanna regret
Not doing it later on in life

Hey Daddy,

Please hang on to me
I'm growing up way too fast
Too much of the future
Not enough of the present day or past

Hey Daddy,

Please don't let me go
I want these years to last
I just wish I could let you know
How much I don't want you to leave
How much I appreciate your company

Hey Daddy,

I'm not gonna' tell you to walk a little slower
I'll just catch up
I'm not gonna' tell you that you're leading my life
I'm just gonna tell you to show your love

Hey Daddy,

I didn't want you to see the tears in my eyes
When I was standing there waving goodbye
I didn't want you to get on that plane
I didn't want you to take that flight

Hey Daddy,

Ford looked up to me as you pulled away
He said on the verge of tears
'Jesse, I don't want Daddy to go to work today'
In the back of my mind
I recalled all of the fun over the years

Hey Daddy,

I promise I tried to hold back the tears
But I couldn't, I cried, it hurt so bad
I could've died, it made me so mad
To know that I couldn't stop you from leaving
Now the whole family is grieving
But no one is as hurt as I am
I lost my best friend when you left
I lost my Buddy, my Brother, my Friend

Hey Daddy,

I can't write any more
The tears are falling and the ink is fading
I haven't really been myself lately

Hey Daddy,

I just couldn't hold back
Cut me some slack

Hey Daddy,

Please come back

Hey Daddy,
Friend
Brother
Dad
Please Come Back

Love Always,
Your Son,
Jesse Debenport

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:19 PM

Poem

Memories of her dad holding her in his arms are a continuous reminder of the love between them.

Special Hero

Christina M. Kerschen

When I was a baby, you would hold me in your arms.
I felt the love and tenderness, keeping me safe from harm.
I would look up into your eyes, and all the love I would see.
How did I get so lucky, you were the dad chosen for me.
There is something special about a father's love.
Seems it was sent to me from someplace up above.
Our love is everlasting, I just wanted you to know.
That you’re my special hero and I wanted to tell you so

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:20 PM

Poem

The poem is in praise of a father who does not sing his own praises and therefore others sing his.

Dad

Karen K. Boyer

Dad

He never looks for praises
He's never one to boast
He just goes on quietly working
For those he loves the most
His dreams are seldom spoken
His wants are very few
And most of the time his worries
Will go unspoken too
He's there.... A firm foundation
Through all our storms of life
A sturdy hand to hold to
In times of stress and strife
A true friend we can turn to
When times are good or bad
One of our greatest blessings,
The man that we call Dad

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:22 PM

Poem

The author writes about her aunt. When she is around the whole world seems brighter.

My Auntie

Brittany E. Dorn

My Auntie has a special gift
She knows just what to do
To make me happy all the time
And show she loves me too

At Christmas and Thanksgiving
She's the person I look for
She stays at my house overnight
But I want her to stay for more

I can tell when she's joking
By the twinkle in her eyes
She's the best at solving problems
She is patient and she's wise

She is so creative
With her poetry and crafts
And every time I'm with her
We have a lot of laughs

I will always admire my Auntie
For my whole life you see
Because even though I'm still a kid
She spends so much time with me

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:23 PM

Poem

A woman mourns for the death of her aunt.

My Aunt Jean

Joan C. Johnson

I close my eyes as I wipe a tear.
I just keep wishing you were still here.
I will hold all the memories deep in my heart.
Through these memories will never part.

I close my eyes as I wipe a tear.
I just keep wishing this pain would disappear.
I didn’t get the chance to say my last good-bye.
I just didn’t think you could ever die.

I close my eyes as I wipe a tear.
All of your love I will always hold near.
In my heart and my mind I will never be alone.
When my time comes......
I will meet you in heaven!

WE LOVE AND MISS YOU

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:25 PM

Poem

A loving Aunt, Vicki Ann Hicks is mourned by her niece who it seems has left the world all too soon.

Hate Too See You Go

Chad R. Kornegay

Vicki Ann Hicks

I love to see you smile,
I hate to see you go,
I wish I was with you
since the first rooster crowed.
You have always been in my heart
even when times were tart.
You have always been #1
even when times weren't fun.
I hope to see you
again one day
I know that you are watching over me
even when skies are gray.
I can still see your face
when I shut my eyes
and all I can think about
is why?

Why did you have to go?
It was all too soon.
I wish you could come back
so I could say "I LOVE YOU!"

-To My Beloved Aunt who passed away

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:26 PM

Poem

To My Dearest Aunt Connie. May you know we all miss you so much! I Love You Always....

Until That Day

Chris Belden

Until That Day

Until that day I'll think of you,
the love we shared, the memories too.

Until that day I'll think of you,
I'll try so hard in all I do.

Until that day I'll find out why,
you had to leave with no "goodbye".

Until that day this is so,
your family misses you, more than you'll know.

Until that day You'll be with him,
your God, your Savior, and new best friend.

Until that day I see you there,
you're in my heart, you're everywhere.

Until that day

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:27 PM

Poem

A woman talks about a very special relationship with her aunt. She treasures the times when she can sit and listen to her aunt's stories of life.

Nellie Louise

Carolyn Wright

Her once shiny black hair is completely all white
And her tall frame is now smaller and ever so slight.
Her face shows the signs of her eighty-two years
It reflects all her happiness, her fears and her tears.
Even though her face has some lines and some wrinkles
Her eyes are bright and often they twinkle.
Her mind is still sharp; her memory still clear
I know that losing it now is her greatest fear.
So when I visit we often sit for long hours and chat.
I listen intently as I stroke Spunky her cat.
She talks of her childhood with her sister, my mother
And tells me her stories, one after another.
She talks about other sisters, Cecile and Ann
And her loving husband Horace, who was such a handsome man.
But I know that one day the stories will end.
And I'll be losing not only my Aunt but also my friend.
So I'll treasure the days that God let me be there
To hear all the stories she was so willing to share

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:28 PM

Poem

This is a poem that I wrote for my daughter because I can't have anymore kids I will cherish being a mom to her

A Special Love Between Us

Angela Gutierrez

I was only 18 at the time and didn’t know what to do
I actually had no clue.
But we decided that we wanted to see you.
As time went by and you grew inside of me
I just knew that you were going to be special.
Now it’s time for my little angel to see the world.
Now it’s time for me to be a mom
I cried and cried tears of joy to be a mom to this little one
Ten little finger
Ten little toes
One big smile
My heart never had so much love for someone that I knew nothing about.
As you grew older and I learned about you I think back to the day that I had you
Now you are going to be 8 and you are getting smarter
Just never forget that things will get harder
And that mommy will always be there
We may have our time of arguments and disagreements
But in the end we will work through it
Just remember that not only can I be your mom I can also your best friend in the end.
Don’t get worried that you’ll never have anyone to talk to
Cause right next to you is where I always will be
Holding my arms out
Waiting for my little angel to come into my arms
Just as you were born
I love you more then words can express
I never thought that in a million years I could be a mother
I enjoy every moment of you in my life
Never will I regret the decision that I made to have you
You are the colors to the rainbow
The light to the moon
The twinkle to the star
And the smile to my face
I love you with all my heart
Mommies little girl

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:29 PM

Poem

A woman gives thanks to God for her daughter who is the sweetest of the sweet.

An Angel Left Her Wings

Tina M. Marascia

I have this little angel. For me she left her wings.
She has no idea how much happiness she truly brings.
She brightens up my days with her smiles and her laughs.
She helps me to remember all the blessings that I have.

Her face, it is so perfect, she's sweet and soft and pure.
Sometimes she can be willful and sometimes she is demure.
She tries her very hardest to please and do what's right.
She gives the greatest hugs from morning until night.

Every person that has known her sees this light within her soul
I know that in this whole great world, she has a special role.
She's helpful and considerate to everyone she knows
This light in her shines brighter as my angel grows.

When she sees someone is sad, it opens up her heart.
She wants to do all that she can; she wants to do her part.
She'll squeeze away the sorrow and make me forget about my pain.
She shows me where the sun is when we're hiding from the rain.

I know that God must love me, He showed me with His Grace
I knew just how completely when I saw my angel's face.
And in that very moment when she came into my world,
I knew that she was so much more than just my baby girl.

She would be my sunshine, with a sweetness that won't end.
And when she grows up one day she would be my closest friend.
She would be the reason I would always try my best.
For my little angel baby girl would be my greatest test.

When God entrusts to you an angel, who has left her wings for you.
Encircle her with love with everything you do.
Let her know God made her, and that He trusts you with her care.
Be sure to make time for special moments with her to share.

And when at night she finally says her prayers and goes to sleep
I Thank Him for my angel, and ask for him to always keep
A watchful eye and hand to protect her from this world.
Protect my little angel; protect my baby girl

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:31 PM

Poem

A father writes about his relationship with daughter

Who Is She?

Kyle J. Underwood

She's a soft cool rain on a hot summer’s day.
She makes me laugh with the funny things she has to say.

She's the beat of my heart, and the air that I breathe.
She's the sun and the wind, and autumn’s golden leaves.

She's the pride that I feel when I know she's done what’s right.
She's that warm feeling I get, when I remember tucking her in at night.

She is homework and sports, and a busy social life.
She has this beautiful smile that could light the darkest night.

She is the scared feeling I have when she stays out late.
Or the feeling that I am losing her, when she wants to date.

She's the mixed emotions I have, as I watch her mature and grow.
I tell myself she will never leave, but, I know in my heart that someday she will go.

I hope the man that steals her heart, will treat her like a queen.
Because she deserves so much more, than a man that treats her mean.

I will always cherish the wonderful times we have had.
The best part of my life was being her dad.

So now you know who she is, she's my little girl.
I love her with all my heart and I always will.

To: Alexandra
From: Dad
08/26/04

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:32 PM

Poem

A daughter writes a letter to her stepmother thanking her for heartfelt love and good things throughout the years.

My Angel

Keira N. Graham

My teenage years have been rough,
There are times when I just want to give up,
My nerves get so shot,
And I feel like I'm going to erupt,
But then you walk in the door,
While I'm listening to a sad song,
And of course you turn it off,
And ask me what’s wrong,
I explain it you,
And you say it'll be ok,
You give comforting advice,
You make the day a better day,
I want you to know how glad I am,
That you are my dad’s wife,
I don't know what I did to be so blessed,
To have an angel like you in my life,
Here lately things have been hectic,
And I’m sorry that we fight,
Were not going to anymore,
Cause tonight’s a brand new night,
Thank you for putting up with me,
For being so calm,
I want you to know I don't consider you my step mother,
You’re my mom,
There are not enough words to express,
How much you I thank you for everything you do,
Hopefully this will be enough,
I love you,
I'm going to end this now,
Because I’m going to write you a letter,
But I'll talk to you soon,
And I hope you get to feeling better !

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:33 PM

Poem

Mother writes a poem of love and gratitude to her daughters for the joy they have brought into her life.

LOVE FOR MY DAUGHTERS

Debra L. Cash

My beautiful daughters, I was blessed with two of you...
You will never know how proud I am of all the things you do.

You came into my world, so tiny and so small...
And I was in awe at the wonder of it all.

Then you placed your little hand in mine...
There was no denying, my heart was yours 'til the end of time.

I have watched you both through out the years, laugh, cry and grow...
And it is difficult to know, that someday I will have to let you go.

I just can't imagine, a day of my life without you...
Because you're a part of me and my love for you is true.

So just remember, no matter how old you are or where you may be...
There's someone who needs you and loves you and that someone is me !

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:34 PM

Poem

A mother writes to her daughter letting her know how much she loves her.

As I watch you Grow

Kay Theese

Do you know how much you mean to me?
As you grow into what you will be.
You came from within, from just beneath my heart
it's there you'll always be though your own life will now start.
You're growing so fast it sends me awhirl, With misty eyes I ask, Where's my little girl?
I know sometimes to you I seem harsh and so unfair, But one day you will see, I taught you well because I care.
The next few years will so quickly fly, With laughter and joy, mixed with a few tears to cry.
As you begin your growth to womanhood, this fact you must know, You'll always be my source of pride, no matter where you go.
You must stand up tall and proud, within you feel no fear, For all you dreams and goals, sit before you very near.
With god's love in your heart and the world by its tail, You'll always be my winner, and victory will prevail.
For you this poem was written, with help from above, To tell you in a rhythm of your Mother's heartfelt Love!

Written and dedicated to my precious daughter - Tammy in 1990

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:36 PM

Poem

Computer Mice !

by Todd-Michael St. Pierre

Can anyone give me advice . . . ?

What to do with computer mice?

At night they come out

And race all about.

Each mouse and it's spouse

Invading my house.

They wreck my office

And they're not too nice.

What to do with computer mice?

Wait, I hadn't thought about that -

Perhaps, I'll get a computer cat!

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:36 PM

Poem

Birthday Gift

by Nina

There are things I'd like to say
to you my love on your special day:

I am forever thankful God sent you my way.

Like a gift from up above,
you showed me how it is to feel real love.

I know many mountains we've had to climb
and sometimes forever has seemed like a very long time.

Yes, we've endured our share of pain,
but together we have so much to gain.

Bigger mountains may lie ahead,
but together there is no hill we can not tread.

So always remember my love for you,
and there is nothing together we can not do.

I'll be here forever - my love is true.
The person beside me, that would be you.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:37 PM

Poem

Happy Holidays

by Poet deVine

We seem to have lost the spirit of Christmas
amid the scandal and sadness this year.
So many things have happened in the world
it's hard to be filled with good cheer.

We grumble and groan and complain, it's true
treat each other with indignity and scorn
We see the world with eyes tightly shut
never seeing that gift that was born.

A gift that can lighten a stressful load
or clear prejudice from our eyes
a gift that we have the power to give
it comes in every shape and size.

Please pass on this gift - just give it away
but hold some of it close in your heart.
For we are together but a brief time in life
give it away before we must part.

On Christmas this year, I wish for you
the special gift we can use each day
It's the gift of love - of hope - of peace
that increases as you give it away.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:38 PM

Poem

Symphony Of The Sea

by Alwye

The smoky breath of Poseidon,
Billowing over wintered wings.
Gracefully touched by ice maidens,
Silent thoughts magically sing.

The mother's crystalline wine,
Flows over verdant isles.
Glimmering like an ancient shrine,
A mirror expanding endless miles.

A melody floats upon the tides,
Lingering within cool sprays.
Upon creamy foam the tune rides,
And silver notes gently raise.

Sweetened with an aqua hue,
The mermaid song plays on.
Secrets of the depths are viewed,
Unlocked by the coming dawn.

A symphony soars within the light,
Sea nymph voices floating high.
Within the sound I hear her might,
Echoing where ocean meets sky.

The crystal opera begins to fade,
Becoming now a hymn of the sea.
Memories fall in a final cascade,
Reminding that the song shall always be.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:39 PM

Poem

My Angel

by Natalee Fox

My angel has a heart so precious,
and sometimes her hair shines of gold.
She is full of love and kindness,
she makes my life meaningful and bold.

My angel is so smart,
always showing me the right way.
Without her I'd be lost,
I know she'll never lead me astray.

My angel is beautiful,
she is so special and like no other.
I love her,
for my angel is my mother.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:41 PM

Poem

Seriously, Nothing Would Surprise Me

Seriously, nothing would surprise me.
The land we love is turned into a store,
Prettied up for foreigners, while we
Are salesclerks and waitresses, no more
The warriors of old, the priests of passion,
Royalty of tongue, the banshee dancers.
Instead, we have become the latest fashion,
Cheapened by the sale itself, the prancers
Kindled by a check to do their chore.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:45 PM

Poem

Footprints in the sand

An amazing poem in search of its author

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Mary Stevenson, 1936

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:48 PM

Poem

Footprints in the sand

An amazing poem in search of its author

Footprints

Also Known As "I Had a Dream"

One night I dreamed a dream.
I was walking along the beach with my Lord. Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life. For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to my Lord.

When the last scene of my life shot before me I looked back at the footprints in the sand. There was only one set of footprints. I realized that this was at the lowest and saddest times of my life. This always bothered me and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma.

"Lord, You told me when I decided to follow You, You would walk and talk with me all the way. But I'm aware that during the most troublesome times of my life there is only one set of footprints. I just don't understand why, when I need You most, You leave me."

He whispered, "My precious child, I love you and will never leave you, never, ever, during your trials and testings. When you saw only one set of footprints, It was then that I carried you."

Margaret Fishback Powers, 1964

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:48 PM

Poem

Footprints in the sand

An amazing poem in search of its author

Footprints

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed He was walking along the beach with the LORD. Across the sky flashed scenes from His life. For each scene He noticed two sets of footprints in the sand. One belonging to Him and the other to the LORD.

When the last scene of His life flashed before Him, He looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of His life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times of His life.

This really bothered Him and He questioned the LORD about it. LORD you said that once I decided to follow you, you'd walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life there is only one set of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed you most you would leave me.

The LORD replied, my precious, precious child, I Love you and I would never leave you! During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.

Carolyn Carty, 1963

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:52 PM

Poem

The Song Footprints in the Sand by Mark Hargrave

One night I dreamed of walking along the shores of different lands.
I could tell that You were with me by the footprints in the sand.
As I gazed upon the heavens, I saw pages of my life.
It was then I realized that You remained there by my side.
When the clouds began to gather and the rains came falling down,
I looked to only find one set of footprints on the ground.
I said, "Lord, why did You leave me in the troubled times of life?
I believed that You would always walk beside me day and night." (Then I heard:)
"My precious child, I'd never leave you.
I have carved you on the hollow of My hand.
It's then I carried you in My arms,
When you see one set of footprints in the sand"
Dear Lord, will You be with me as I travel through the years?
Will You be there in the struggles? Will You wipe away the tears?
As my eyes turn toward the ocean and the shores of distant lands,
I'm still thinking of the single set of footprints in the sand. (I heard Him say:)
"My precious child, I'd never leave you.
I have carved you on the hollow of My hand.
It's then I carried you in My arms,
When you see one set of footprints in the sand."
Will I hear the angels singing, as my life comes to an end.
Oh Lord, I long to see You. Will You be there once again?
My eyes turn toward the heavens, along the path of foreign lands,
Once more, I'm thinking of the set of footprints in the sand. (Jesus said:)
"My precious child, I'd never leave you.
See your name carved on the hollow of My hand.
I'm here to carry you to your home.
You will see one set of footprints in the sand.

The Song Footprints in the Sand By Mark Hargrave

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:55 PM

Poem

My Bestest Friend

by Noah Calhoun

Words do go swirling
In my head to no end
Can't find the right words
To describe my best friend

You see, we first met
Quite by accident indeed
Our lives were quite empty
A friend we did need

The first conversations
You'd think would be clumsy
Strange though, they were natural
Warm and quite funny

We spoke random days
In each week of our past
Not to know where it was going
Not to know if it would last

I was growing quite fond of
My friend with brown hair
Time brought us closer
So much did we share

Moved to a best friendship
Though nothing we did try
We spoke only to each other
On days ending in "y"

Then came a big groundswell
Change born deep in the heart
A best friendship for life
God new it from the start

You see she's not just
A best friend in my eyes
Look very closely
She wears another disguise

Her soft touch on my life
Has done marvelous things
Her hat hides her halo
Her coat, her wings

She will never see
Just what she has meant
From the beginning I knew
She was heaven-sent

From this day I have now
'til life's at it's end
I'll thank God every moment

For my "Bestest" Friend.

--> Man

Man

March 14, 2008, 02:57 PM

Poem

A

by Robin Mallinson

As I think back in the past
Time flying by so fast
Hoping to get another chance
Wanting my love to enhance
You told me I was the one
Why do we have to be done
I miss you so much
Only wanting to feel your touch
My eyes grow hazy
For the little things you do drive me crazy
Why did this happen to me
I only wanted us to be
I know I am still young
But with you I have only begun
My feelings I cant hide
I need you by my side
I cry all my tears
Wishing you could calm my fears
Losing you to another girl
The thought makes my stomach twirl
My heart burns
Forever it will yurn
The smile on your face
Makes my heart beat a steady pace
All I feel is shame
I wish this was no game
The way you make me feel
I want us to be real
What we had in the past
Why didn't it last
All I did was love
Because you were sent from above
Why did this end
I will never love again
The way you made me feel complete
I was caught up in the heat
I wish we could start again
And wanting it to never end
All the memories of you
That's all I hold on to
The way I can't give up
Sealing all my tears in a cup
Why can't it be a short time
That I can call you mine
I can't let go
I feel so low
Your all I think about
I can't live without
I wished you loved me
So we could be
I want to be with you all of my days
Loving you in each and every way
My heart is on fire
Hoping you'll find the desire
To come back to me
The way it use to be
I never stop to think
That you were never a mistake
I wish every night
that one day you will come to sight
I don't want you to be mad now
I just want you to know how
I will love you tell the end
Hoping you will come back again

--> Man