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

[Tai Shi]

I am stepping back from writing poetry on the threads. I need to give you space to write. Indeed, the threads were never meant to be the showcase for my poetry; that, they have become, nor that I ever I established them just for me. Please try your hand at poetry. Even simplest poetry can succeed. Not just my poems but always your poetry. I will limit myself; two a week or maybe the only poems not quitting , or maybe just something about a recognized published poet. Now I will not publish my own poetry as much as you might, I hope to stand back a little, so pleases make your poems. Be kind to yourselves. There are lots of reasons to publish poetry here. As always they remain only your poetry. You automatically own copyright with your name on the poem. This is a place to experiment and if you have trouble with typing, dictate and be vocal, or have someone copy the poem into the space. For those of you who don't know, you must scroll down to the end of the page to write, or insert a poem.. Do not be afraid to try your hand, (hands), here, and take flight with the joy of writing. Experiment here. I tell you that anywhere is here, keeping in mind decorum, your poetry is your poetry in these places for our Forum. You cannot make a mistake. Poetry in the marked places is always read, and only positive encouragement, please.
Gassho
Tai Shi

[Tai Shi]

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

[Jundo]

You poetry is lovely, TS.

Don't feel you must stop.

Gassho, J

stlah

[Tai Shi]

Sea Ice Melting

Being, becoming, swimming with sight,
I linger in salt, I linger in caves
Of withering fear, I am seventy-two,
Right into waves of my mind,

I retreat, some wisdom of sharks
Of fishes that swim into sea waves,
Slipping through one's own common hunt,
My difficult nature returns.

My wings above blue sea remind me
Of other beings. Birds I could devour--flocks
Disappear into rain of clouded sky. My only
Desire to think, I'm extinct. My thoughts hidden,

Dropping to only oceans, I strike without
Thinking, being my nature, neglected as
Small, I am taught by my friends, lunging
I miss, without being,

Wonder of food, is my essence aggressive?
Capturing everything, I need prey. Knowing
I was born to swim in circles as I hunt
For everything, I'm without defiance,

Not enemy to food, my kindness capturing,
Stealth, deceiving being instinct, part
Of My invisible coalition. Sharks by nature
Next floating with humans on board, where

Do I strike into flesh, these creatures
Floating with intent, defenceless make
My leather-like clothing as hard as skin, tasteless,
Bite,at their boat floating into difficult water.

One of these creatures avoiding sharks,
Avoiding even waves of destruction. I know
How to stealthily destroy their kind,
Predator, not in wonder, mindfulness avoided,

In danger, apart from my nature, bread
Into element deep, something destructive
I cannot keep space--what would I witness
Other than fishes. I lunge to capture.

How could I leering sink like another
Entering sadness, sea creatures, pleasant
Anomaly, beautiful, I'm lunging
Swallowing, slither toward voids, bigger prey,

Wondering what made me this incarnation?
Part of my predatory being, may I change,
This felt desire? if this is my wisdom, giving
Some hope, some realization.

My peace from endless attack none seeing
My desire to angle my foes from my leather
Where there are wallets, shoes, gloves as I strike?
Wonder as born, neglected as wild, simple

As brain sought to destroy. Gang of younger
Thieves, stalking, I consider deep into nest
Of deception, like mouth of sword closing
On creatures, sad sharks sink into deep water.

Let me change meditation in still water. Vast
Is sea wave, covering my childhood.
I was in damaged by wilderness, parents,
Karma of previous life making my-- Deception is done.

Gassho
Tai Shi
Sat/ deep bows/ lah

[Onkai]

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

Stafford's "A Way of Writing"
California State University, Dominguez Hills


A Way of Writing. by William Stafford. A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as he is someone who has found a process that will bring about ...
People also ask
What does Stafford say about writing?
A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as he is someone who has found a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he had not started to say them.

Famous deceased Poet William Stafford won many national awards, and was the Poet Laurette of the US during his life. This is not a lengthy term of responsibility.

[Onkai]

The link didn't work, but the quote resonated with me. I don't write poetry now, but it's true for fiction and journaling as well. Thank you, Tai Shi.

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

Onkai, you have to forgive Stafford because he’s not just referring to boys but girls too. He was a child of the 50s and 60s. He was poet Laureate of the US Library of Congress and won many national awards. His most famous poem is Traveling Through the Dark.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro

[Onkai]

Tai Shi, I missed that the pronoun was masculine. So much has changed since the 1950's and '60's! Thank you for your sensitivity to that.

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

I stand in awe of contemporary poets like and as WS Merwin and William Stafford. I wrote to Stafford while writing in my MFA workshops. He was a Kansas poet, an man like me. He wrote back that I should keep writing because my poetry held great promise. I am an Iowa poet, a South Dakota poet. I had enclosed a five poem portfolio of recent poetry I had written Stafford, he wrote back as he encouraged many young poets. I was 37. WS Merwin was one of the greatest poets of the 20th century writing into the 21st century up until his death in 2018 (?). He received many national awards including for Migration which won the National Book Award around 2001, (correct me with the dates.) He is considered a Buddhist poet. His poetry not only includes many poems which predict a dangerous time for humanity, but many optimistic poems. Like Stafford, he does see hope for humanity though a dire future. Perhaps we can pull ourselves out of this bag. He purchased 20 acres of desolate land in Hawaii and restored it. Then he planted this area with many endangered "palm species." Look at my optimistic poetry. I mean to keep writing until my death. I am 72, and was never expected to live this long. I have been writing since I was 15, ah but I have thrown away many good poems, and I have a good portfolio of poems from workshops and publications before I had tried to write seriously in 2008. I received my MFA creative writing/poetry in 1990 from Colorado State University with 3.9 GPA, at that time I had published about 60 poems in little magazines and small publications including The Connecticut Review, and The Sierra Journal. Thanks to great friends like Kyosui and other people here at Treeleaf I am alive. Many great people including an anonymous man who saved my life in 1976. I know this time because of the Bicentennial of the US. That fall after a horrific spring, I took the Psychology course at a community college which propelled me into the changes that saved my life again. Never give up. I discovered Suzuki Roshi then. I was 24-years-old. I own a first edition of Zen Mind, Beginner Mind and of Be Here Now by Ram Das because of that Psychology course. Indeed, it was a different time. Never give up hope.

Gassho
Tai Shi

[Onkai]

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

Why is she older than her 23 years?
She Was Different

She was 23. Died, Older than her bones
Her bones were 23; her bones are older
Then she smiles, older than she tastes
Our beloved daughter, it happend.
Her bones older than the sun beautiful,
Older. Then 93,000,000 miles away, Older,
Older than the earth, 24 hours a day,
5 billion years. It’s okay to be as old as the sun.

Quietly at first because sound 700,
Light years, 283,000 miles a second, stage
A bomb cloud at 25,000 feet, B29 as old as her
Bones are her bones, Here bones belong
Where is flux, what sucks, what? What Runs
To Muck, much to my surprised with surprise,
Heroshima, invisible. Destroyed in moments
Beautiful, she is different, after sees Hiroshima
She becomes that's why she does stink
Not is green, super orange, red, or yellow,
Not Smelling like fried rice, fried death,
Rice not coming from China, not realizes
She is not Chinese, she came to Heroshima
After this bomb, which bombs? The Atomic bomb

Turned everything to ash, which looked
Like bones, like tangled snow, powered
Bones, ash from bones, old bones, snow epicenter
Vaporized human beings, Where then bomb
Fell, encrusted child lay on this ground, shell
Of clothing, nothing inside, just shape of children
Girl, or boy no one could tell except that those children,
Before 8:15 local time; shining somewhat malnourished
Child, scarcity of food meant that that child ate no
Breakfast that morning, then at 8:16 that child
Was a shell of carbon and a handful of ash, ashes
That would be shadows of little girls or boys
No one could tell of these, less than 2% of uranium
235 exploded 15000 tons of TNT went off
Immediately, all at once. Radiation H bombs much bigger
Could flatten a city 18 miles radius from epicenter,


Does the fundamental Buddhist principle of all
People being good deep down inside apply to soldiers?
Who fires on opposing soldiers? How do we offer mercy
To those caught in the fireball of an atomic bomb?
What's this goodness of the pilot and bombadear?
New B29 planes flying at 25,000 feet, dropped
The 10,000 lb bomb from the ground, tiny chute
Overwhelmed, tolerate the unknown of not knowing.
Every time I peerform pieces of play on words,
When bomb droped plane jumped ten feet,
A bomb, H bomb, so cruelty deals with substance.
Unit from Army Air Corps we do workshops With
Body with breath, of teaching about things,
All elements we as human beings, music out of
Sound way in, what out of your mouth, physics
Of throat and air, transcend human culture,
Beginning human culture, 20,000 years
In our past, 20 centuries, 100 years each,
Think of twenty years done 200 times as big,
100 years, 20 centuries. Won without fight,
One more sight of bullets; how can we
See bullets? Now, and then, then and now
More fearsome, more horrible than 80,000
People killed instantly as smoke, ash, sound
Flattens city of wooden walls with more than 100 mile
Then, 150 miles an hour. hours of winds only 2%
Of sun radiation weald sword of light,?Hhow
Could German scientists? They came to this USA
Developed 5 A bombs, of U235, then Plutonium.
These bombs closed this war, Nagasaki WW2, war 2,
Another 70,000, war to end all wars; these have
Been happening since human kind took chunk
Of bone, fragmented it upon an anonymous head.

Jump Tardive Dyskinesia fights; my nerves,
Some days I jump with the best drugs
For mental illness; that’s what came of experiments
On prisoners, Acid flash. I’m placid of accidents.
There was this Jesus, before him Buddha, I know
Both, both precepts are loving kindness for ours,
Israelites, palestine of Jesus, of Mohamed, Moses
Sons and daughters. I am an old man. Ordinary man
Charles E Taylor, November 23, 2023.

Gassho
sat/lah

[Tai Shi]

West Two then Zazen

It's easier now when I forget
To take my medicine at 5:00 a.m.
I can take it at 10:35 a.m then
I enjoyed my cup of tea, my yogurt,
My muffins, walked away

To my study for study; for
Sunday Sit. Time to sit again to spend
Another day reading and writing. There was
A time with no freedom to read and write, a little
Misty before We sit for peace again, I'm
Comfortable except my neck is killing me.

Rope of pounding pain around my neck,
It this "Robe of Liberation boundless,
Field byond form and formless..."
I remember how happy I was to memorize
After brain surgery. The rope tightens. I know
I have forgotten my mornings meds
Then The Heart Sutra. Then Zazen.

BACK TO kITCHEN MEDS FAST TO STUDY.
Sunday after Thanksgiving 2023
I thought back to 1974 as I reminisced
About the year I graduated, I sit in Zazen,
From College, the college experience

Where would I GET job with my degrees?
Back then nothing much held any promises,
My GPA, well at least I had something. Snow.

Stopped me from becoming, I sit Zazen.
I Am a Zen student. I am 72, studied
Graduate school about eight years, what was
I doing after I left Sanoma IN 1974?

HOW DID i MEET Marjorie, "in grad school"
What was I doing? I have half an hour before
I sit, let's see." I sit Zazen

Nothing. "I'm not a doctor!" I screeched
In Wes One Psychiatric Ward, then
I had good behavior after someone

Posted; Stopping by Woods on Snowy
Evening. It was three feet deep
Already, I had good behavior

For two days, I'd lost time, I didn't
Know what Day of the week it was,
This man in white coat said "Steve."

"I'm not Steve." "I'd like to talk to you
In the nurses' station." "Okay."
"We've decided to move you to

West Two." "What's West Two?"
You'll have more freedom there."

"Then one more thing. We've
Decided to let you go home
For Christmas Day. You'll return,

Of course in the evening." I sit Zazen.
"Who are you?" "I'm one
Of the medical students. I'm just here

To try and get you introduced to
The idea of going to West Two,
Assigned to your case."

"By the way I was roommates
With one of your Buddies, Jack, second
Year of med school. He is

One of my best friends,
In med school." "Tell me something.
Is my diagnosis schizophrenia?"

Words fell on the concrete
Floor like a hammer! Student
Picked them up, 10 penny nails.

"When you get to West Two,
You'll have the opportunity
To stroll those paths in beautiful woods

Behind the Psych buildings. You'll enjoy
Those nice wooded paths." "Tell me
Doc does, anyone ever walk away

From the Hospital?" "Rarely, it's
More than a mile to the road.
There's no transportation when
You get there." I sit Zazen

"Say I want to know, is my
Diagnosis Schizophrenia?"
The senior year med student

Looked sheepish, "Yes, but
You will meet your therapist
After Christmas." "Say doc
When is Christmas?"

"You don't know? It's tomorrow."
"How long have I been here?"
"Don't you know?" It's a while. You can visit
With your nurse upstairs. You're

Under court order, Why don't you
Know the date?" " "Took me right
From the office." I sit zazen
"They had established I was broke.

I have $80 in my sock drawer at home."
Can I have some of my books when I
Get to West Two? I have a great History


Of Ancient Greece." "It's doubtful
They will let you have anything except
"Your clothes, but you can go outside.

I imagine it's getting uncomfortable
In those hospital gowns. But no belt,
No shoe strings." "How do I keep

My pant's up, my shoes on." "They
Have plastic ties that fasten your
Pants and your shoes. They come off."

Say, doc my spine hurts, what is it?
"Probably anxiety. Get your Stuff
Together. The aid will get you situated

Upstairs." Out the door without another word."
When I was 40, I learned my spine had
Ankylosing Spondylitis. I sit zazen

When I got there to West Two, college
Students were singing Peter, Paul,
Mary songs. Playing guitarists. Into this
Dimmed Room, overwhelmed with size

Of West Two, the smoke swilled
Up my nose. People could smoke.
Students Opened into a chorus of Puff
The Magic Dragon. I suddenly

Was a child of four. I began to cry
No one noticed as my face got wet.
Finally another song began. It was
Christmas Eve. In the ten days

In West one. I'D LOST TRACK
Of time. "When do I get out?" "You'll
See the nurse I'll take, get your stuff,

To your room. First I've Got
To introduce to you roommates."

He hadn't noticed my face was
Wet. Grabbing tissues from the table
I dried my face as I followed him

Down to the room. As this woman
Dressed as a nurse took me by the arm
""I'll take it from here, John." I sit zazen.

She walked back to the Day Room
Where several tables were playing
Cards. As this woman led me too

A small room, a plexiglass cage, I
Was afraid. "I'll be introducing you to those
People on the ward," I sat down

Quietly in the plexiglass room.

"I'll be giving you your medication."
She handed me a paper cup and several
Pills in a SMALLER paper cup, "I'll take my pills."

I asked again. "Can I have my books HERE?"
"There's plenty to read. Besides
We will keep you busy with PT, OT, Groups
And visits with therapy and psychiatry.

Were done. Lights out at 10, Go to your room.
Pick up your things." I obediently followed
Her down the hall. "There's the bathroom.

We'll get you food from the kitchen. Any
Preference? Tuna or Chicken?" "Ah, chicken
Please" Comes with a drink and chips, decaf
Or Seven UP? "Seven up." I sit zazen.

"Here's your room. Lights out in two hours,
That closet is yours. That bed is yours."
There were two other beds. In the window

I could see snow from the streetlights,
Tight woven screens outside the plastic
Window." "Want to follow me. I'll
Get an aid to help you now."

I would get to wear my, I sit Zazen,
Clothes for a while, one hour 45 minutes before
Bed, as I finished dinner, a man
Wandered to the table where I

Was gazing at the tube. "My name
Is Bill, what's yours? Want a smoke?"
"No, I don't smoke." "You will by the
Time you leave here."
Now I am into Shikantaza.


Gassho sat/lah
Tai Shi

[Onkai]

Gassho, Onkai
Sat lah

[Tai Shi]

Today I am Remarkable

Only Yesterday, sentenced time of West One
I was 26-years-old, completed
Days, days images unfolded away Wards

Like carpet of red, brown, Autumn
To Leave poetry, I had come to poetry,
Comfort, to what was poetry of living deadly

Study this book, psychology book, the 9th
Edition of book of mom's only dirty attempt
Psychology of the Day, Familiar Textbook

Held like dry grass How many days is two months
Of times court given surgery hospitalized, four
Placed on revolutionary drug, Pill Poems


Pills, given discharged, knew. Never new again
Into Bowels Of the Earth, psych hospital tubes
Psychology of windowless turned into doors,

Lights on, white wall three days before class
This was no ending, this was the beginning
Of community college, Psychology 101, nowhere.

Of my adulthood, knowing of more, away vortex
Of past, of trees outside therapy window
By Douglas, my brother, Court Ordered,

Told new diagnosis Schizoaffective Disorder,
I'd never seen visions or voices, or known indivisible
Rain, Wet days, three foot snow drifts screamed

Except the waking times into wooden shrines, spring
Of isolation where sometime I purchase before third
Hospitalization. I'd purchased sharp eyes,

Someone saved my life out of vortex
Courtroom, court order discharged where
Discharge to productive work insurance for new

Paying off $1700 college, my mother's house
With "The Familiar," going back Back to college,
Friendly libraries, unions, nothing to envy

Instructor, Mark Vonnegut, like me he went
Farther who I'd abandon for this vision
Father would have abandoned me to wards

Of Five Dollars, parking fee, activity, library
College Bookstore, I found Be Here Now, Zen
Mind, Beginner Mind first ed, Freud's mindless

Station of familiar stories, A on every
Test, every assignment I told Where I'd come
From, that I'd known grandmother roamed

House "I graduated" from Greatest School in Iowa,"
Where I'd never known freedom, vortex ate me up
Where I'd first attempted meditation, Lotus Bloom

Come from "nightmare of West One Ward,"
What I did wasn't earn easy over, over learning
What this surgery of life learned about "Modern

Psychology" say I know. Silver days of Power
I vowed to leave this Iowa heap, daily meals
On TV trays, too much shaggy dog hair

From her white dog never stopped moving
Never belonged in houses, entertained animals
Child care, four dogs two cats, unfixed females,

House, I studied on front porch rented Uhaul,
Browed beat up old Rambler heat hitched
To all my stuff, don't forget books,

Circle of Sound, driving through heat, clouds
To Thich Nhat Hanh, new apartment, 172 miles
Away study not knowing poetry of future,

This time Advanced Creative Writing,
Poetry, "Writing for Personal And Public Purposes"?
Mastery of school. I wrote of filthy West One.

Gassho
Tai Shi
sat/ lah