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

[Kaitan]

Too heavy to carry around
These boots full mod and sorrow
Sadness, pain and suffering
Is being strong necessarily to know this
Too soft to walk in these rocky lands
Full of despair and tragedy
How much more is necessary to stand this
To wake up and be gentle
With self and others
Not two



stlah, Kaitan

[MagnificentTreeFrog]

Songbirds expound the dharma / without rank or title / the passing day is just so / this one listens and learns

[Kaitan]

Eating, hearing the trucks passing by
not far from here, only in the next galaxy cluster
another being is pondering the same
what is this place?, how lucky to be here
I trust



stlah, Kaitan

[Seikan]

Hi Everyone,

I recently stumbled upon the following poem I wrote about a year or so ago and suddenly felt the urge to share as it feels timely on many levels, at least to me. I hope it resonates for you as well.


Origin of All Wars

Violence begins at home
before a single word is spoken
we tear open a rift
in the delicate fabric
of time and space
a waxing wound
destined to fester
never truly healing
an unforeseen casualty
of the weapons we wield
for there is nothing more lethal
than these thoughts of ‘me’
and ‘you’


Gassho,
Seikan

sat/lah

[Kaitan]

Thank you for reviving this thread. I missed it.

[Noel]

I share another of my poems. The original in Spanish sounds much better, but I hope the meaning is preserved. I translated it with Copilot AI.
Thank you for reading.

Gassho,

Noel

Sat-lah

Do you step where flowers are born?

Love is that which sprouts at the feet of trees.
That which begins small and then spreads.

It is what seeks the light.
Pushing forward,
propelling itself from within,
banishing all darkness.

Along the way,
it is destroyed,
and thus it is reborn.
Then, as it breaks and twists,
between the wound and the spilled sap,
a new little branch emerges
—strong, small.

And then it stretches,
it stretches,
it stretches,
it expands,
it breaks.

Only to once again be a fresh sprout,
a tiny bud,
where a flower will bloom.

One you barely see,
barely feel.
That dies there in silence
beneath your weary feet.

As you walk,
I would like you to realize
— you step where flowers are born.

[Noel]

Thank you Kokuu, for letting me know. I was wondering if he was alive.
I guess he is alive in this section, surrounded by poems.

Gassho,

Noel

Sat-lah

[Kokuu]

Lovely! Thank you so much for sharing those with us, Noel.

The man who initiated this poetry thread, a poet himself, passed away last month so thank you for keeping this part of the forum alive.

[Jundo]

[Noel]

Hi!

I have been writing poetry and prose since I was little. It’s wonderful to have this section—thank you!
Here are some excerpts from poems I wrote some years ago. I selected the pieces that feel most connected to this practice.
Since I originally wrote them in Spanish, I used DeepL to translate them. Next time, I’ll share just one. I apologize for the length.

Gassho,

Noel

Sat-lah


Walking aimlessly, I discover who I am, just a leaf that moves with the wind, slips and falls, and disintegrates to become part of the earth that is born again.
I am just a small being that moves and feels and screams, or am I something else? Maybe I am also the leaf and the sky and the water and the laughing children and the ants and the grass and the dog, and I am you, I am also you.
Walking aimlessly, I realize that there are no fears, no worries, no future, no past, no distance, no sorrow, no death.
That there are no problems, no beginnings, no endings. There is only today, only this moment in which I look at you and I see myself, and time does not exist, because we are eternal, and tomorrow we will be a leaf that disintegrates on the ground to be born birds and fly.

.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ...............................

And the universe fit in a nutshell...
The whole universe, reflected in that smallness. Then I realized that in you I could also find the universe, that you contained everything.
That you walked with the universe in you without realizing it. When you smiled, when you went to work, when you woke up in the morning, when you talked to me, and when you were silent.
And I realized, you were so complex and profound, and so wonderfully amazing precisely because of that. Sadly, I thought that I might never be able to take you all in, to think you over, and capture you all in one thought. I never could.
I could, yes, surround you, be a wreck on your surfaces. But to see you all at once, whole, with these small worldly eyes, that I could never do. Not just look at you, see you! meet you!
If the universe fits in a nutshell, then? If you are also the universe, then.... Maybe I will never find you but only when I melt in the darkness of your eyes, in that abyss that seems to have no end. Maybe only at that moment your universe will meet mine, and there will be something almost like a cosmic explosion.

.................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ..............................................

You are with me at nightfall, you watch with me as the first star shines. You are with me when I wake up and when I wake up, you wake up with me too. If I stir the morning coffee, there you go, sailing in the coffee. I hold you in the spoon so you don't sink in. But suddenly I get inspired and I lose you because I let my fingers type the letters. And now you're in every period and every comma; other times you're just space between letters. Even if I don't talk about you, even if I write that the day is beautiful or that it's raining cats and dogs outside, it's you who are in the sun and the rain, it's you who are in the clouds that dissipate in the wind. It is you who flies in that bird that landed on my balcony a while ago. It looked at me with those eyes of having seen everything. But it was you there, and you flew away. And now you are in the falling afternoon and in the rainwater left wetting the garden tiles. You're there, and I'm sure I see your reflection in that puddle. Now, a drop falls right in the middle of your face. Don't laugh. I'm watching your face transform into perfect waves of black puddle. A black so beautiful that it makes your eyes shine like stars. Don't look at me like that, or I won't be responsible if I fall in love with a dirty puddle abandoned by the rain. You laugh, I know you laugh, because the waves expand and your eyes become cloudy. It's just that love has these silly things. Suddenly, you're looking at a puddle (not to mention a tile) and you get caught up in contemplating the world in something you thought was so superfluous. And then I, who am such a fool, could end up falling in love with you, puddle, and with that tile you carry inside you. And with the rain that made you, and with the cloud mixed with the air, and with the coffee smoke that surrounds you and helps you wake up with me every morning.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)

[Layzie]

How Innumerable Is It?


This life is no different
than the hundreds
of dew drops hanging
from the pine trees.

Each drop of water
reflecting an entire world,
and in those worlds,
even more innumerable dew drops.
Yet all are empty.
Fading away without notice
as the day goes on.

Where does this dew drop hang,
I wonder?

Gassho

[Hokai]

In my shed
I sit
And know I am alive

Gassho
Hōkai
IMG_2892.jpg

[Layzie]

A Morning Talk With A Bird

Saying hello, every morning,
to the cardinal
nesting in the tree
across from my balcony,

I wonder,

All my talk of impermanence,
and practice of non-attachment,
yet how will I feel
when it is gone?

"I love it as if
it were myself" I say.

and if there is no self?

no bird?

Even so, I still believe
that love and compassion
are at the foundations
of this existence.

"I love it simply
because it is there
to love." I say.

Gassho

[Layzie]

In The Middle of A Hard Day's Work.

Distracted by the weather
and nature's beauty,
I sit under a shady tree.

The lost one-eyed finch drinks
from the hanging water bowl.
It grows old; and on.

Surely this place
holds the spirit
of Kannon.

Gassho

[Layzie]

After These Days of Rain

Not a single cloud in the sky.
Trees take their time
swaying from side to side.
A bluejay cries
across the open hill.

Tired winds make no noise.

I feel myself slowly melting.
Fading into the breeze.
Where do I begin?
Where do I end?

Viewing the great mystery
through the eyes
of every living thing,
and experiencing the vast emptiness.

Gassho