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

[WorkerB]

b.
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[Tai Shi]

Fly Away Wild Bird

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

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

[Tai Shi]

Connections to
Charles Tai Shi Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before onset of Ankylosing
Spondylitis, seized days, disk

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

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

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

Charles Tai Shi Taylor

[Tai Shi]

Connections to
Charles Tai Shi Home

Dedication
初回 [しょ初·かい回]
First Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles Tai Shi Taylor

[Hoseki]

Hi folks,

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

The mind of the great sage is none other than time

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


Gassho,
Hoseki

[Tai Shi]

Love Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gassho
Deep bows
lah/ sat

[Tai Shi]

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

Charles E Taylor
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

Eternity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tai Shi
Deep bows
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

My Tea, Shikantaza, Love, Salutation


Tea, as I sit quietly, silently Zazen
My cup, partial gone in my drank,
My in my mug, cooling for 30 minutes,
While I actually enjoy quiet, then
Gone Shikantaza, here Shikantaza.

What is this thirty minutes?
What is flavor of tea leaves,
Cooling water formerly boiling
Buildings warm from new
Furnace flame? Now October,

Leaves golden, turned from green
Yesterday's rain, blue gray
Under soggy drops of mold,
Damp pungent smell, of what
Do I hear? Is it my love

Quiet breathing now?
Escaping life of oxygen twenty
Percent, almost 80 percent
Nitrogen, other inert gases
Slithering between layers of air.

Thirty minutes, I hear bell chime
Young man simply says, what
Noise. Have good days, sits again
Burmese, up on knees, thank you
Have a good day, see you all soon.

say/lah
Gassho
Tai Shi

[Onkai]

Thank you, Tai Shi, for the lovely poem.

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

Sylvia Plath's Poetry

What morning breakfast
Before Shikantaza
Before silence, before morning
Night at 4:00 a.m. dark honied,

Muffin of lines of distressed father?
Her silent husband written
In words he warped?
Did he take her simple life?

Now I look into her glass and see
Another's editorial remarks.
Why did he seem to like her poetry
Another's misery, another's

Arbiter linking her phases, not
Wondering why he lay in silence
With one's everlasting truth,
Deadly verses? Why

Did he bother to become her
Editor in her final life?
Why take her delicate flesh,
Bread into palms, Into his

Betrayal infinite?
Is this another's Judas?
Why she was wronged in his name?
Great horror, night in desperation,

Darkness in depression? Air slipped
Simply administered
Never underestimated motherhood,
Simpering in tears disloyal?

Why these remarks, quartered
Into what is unnatural?
Infected boiling fervor, tragic
Cold, some naked dictator?

Dictate words, in remedial
Disbelief, in untruth, never
Forgiven, does bitter dish linger
Into biten, frigid air, crushing

Divine labor into dust?
To forgive himself, ever
Simple his suffrages,
Tea into dank drink of blood?

Consummated death like NAZZI's
Chambers? Skin like lamp shade?
Did he love what
He left in cup of gas

Of peaceful dove, eaten breakfast
Of Squab, delicious dish of regret?
Lunch like fleshy dictations?
Supper, in Christ's wine, bloody

Sacrament, drunk into name
Without broken cross, suffer little
Ones of come unto her
Poetry, pen as sword gushing,

Gambling her clothes, her white
Sheets worsted? Warped closet
Into borrowed grave of
Nightmarish temptations?

Tai Shi
With tears for tender
One so young, she
sat to write her
last poems
lah
Gassho
Deep bows

[Meian]

Thank you, Tai Shi. [emoji1374]

In my younger days I was a devoted fan of Plath's writings and life story. Your post brought back some poignant memories.

gassho stlh


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[Tai Shi]

Thank you Merian,

Plath's own life sheds light on my own life, which my own giving wife admonishes give it up, live in the now. "He is old, let it go, Practice your Buddhism, look at pretty fall leaves, let it go, practice Buddhism, forgive your father, look at the beauty of these hills, and the harvested fields." So, in every way, I'm attempting to leave my father behind. I have written to him of my forgiveness, and I call him often. He cannot help himself with some dementia I let him live! We do not need his support. We are fine in every way. We own our home, have enough for our old age, give to the poor so she gives me a fine allowance from my social security. I am out of the red having paid off all my debt incurred while I was in fit of bipolar mania. Now my therapist says I am fine without even any trace of hypomania or depression. I am frugal, spend very little, save for a few things expensive. She has given me expensive gifts to ease burden of my bank account. I am fair with my own money. I buy them Christmas, for father and the rest for my little family, small things for my brother's birthdays, Christmases, and mother's day nice gifts with my money for our daughter and Marjorie, I spend for them with my savings. I tell them how much I love them, and it is true, as I have allowed my fits of life to dissipate in my old age. Thank you Meian, I admire your commitment to Zazen, Shikantaza, and work toward a priestly life. Keep at it, we are there to support all of you with our thoughts and feelings. I wish you well.

Gassho
sat/lah
Tai Shi

[Meian]

Thank you Merian,

Plath's own life sheds light on my own life, which my own giving wife admonishes give it up, live in the now. "He is old, let it go, Practice your Buddhism, look at pretty fall leaves, let it go, practice Buddhism, forgive your father, look at the beauty of these hills, and the harvested fields." So, in every way, I'm attempting to leave my father behind. I have written to him of my forgiveness, and I call him often. He cannot help himself with some dementia I let him live! We do not need his support. We are fine in every way. We own our home, have enough for our old age, give to the poor so she gives me a fine allowance from my social security. I am out of the red having paid off all my debt incurred while I was in fit of bipolar mania. Now my therapist says I am fine without even any trace of hypomania or depression. I am frugal, spend very little, save for a few things expensive. She has given me expensive gifts to ease burden of my bank account. I am fair with my own money. I buy them Christmas, for father and the rest for my little family, small things for my brother's birthdays, Christmases, and mother's day nice gifts with my money for our daughter and Marjorie, I spend for them with my savings. I tell them how much I love them, and it is true, as I have allowed my fits of life to dissipate in my old age. Thank you Meian, I admire your commitment to Zazen, Shikantaza, and work toward a priestly life. Keep at it, we are there to support all of you with our thoughts and feelings. I wish you well.

Gassho
sat/lah
Tai Shi

thank you, Tai Shi [emoji1374]

gassho stlh


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[Meian]

curled leaf
flutters and rocks
catch my eye
as it tips off my nose
autumn breeze in
a silent forest of time


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