Worlds Worthwhile Words

Jan 2016

irinia

there are places where no mind
can reach
as far as the gate of winds

I'm counting hours, counting stars
burdened with the exhaustion of difference

see the hand write of time in my silent steps
black wholes in between my thoughts

I can smile, I am in the present tense of home

there are no attributes
in the centre
no spin into the crucifixion of the day

only the tenderness
of the sinking sun

Jan 2016

Sjr1000

The Garden Buddha

The Garden Buddha
sits
between
the
Rosemary, Dahlia and Boronia
fragrances in the breeze

Welcoming Accepting
the sun, the rain,
the star lite night sky
fierce frozen mornings
the snow when it comes,
the spiders, the slugs, the mosquitoes, the flies

Garden Buddha
quarter smile
whether or not
I sit beside him,
Unattached to all he sees
a study in the 7 Dharmas.

The Garden Buddha
being is all he knows.

While I worry
about this and that
fearful thoughts in the days and nights
all attached
to
love and loss,
fears and triumphs
births and debts,
what people think
will poems trend
whether there is food on the table
whether work will extend
whether or not I am part of the latest fashion trend.

The Garden Buddha
doesn't care or not care
about any of those things
his eyes
never waver
they always look inside out
outside in.

The Garden Buddha
stone of course
his smile
never goes away.

In the end, though,
nature will always have the last say
I can accept it
or not
Be filled with longing
suffering or accepting

life on life's terms

The Garden Buddha
will be here
long after
my last
dying day.

Not a practicing Buddhist, but have always had a fascination with attachment, longing and acceptance.

Jan 2016

r

Wisteria

Oh, come on you black-eyed
***** Night. Spite me
with sleep. Strike me, like
a cottonmouth. Sing me
your dark song, like a footfall
in my hallway, like a night watch-
man dropping his lantern,
a last turn of the fan, a whisper
of a mystery, a kiss with wisteria
and moonshine on your breath.

Jan 2016

irinia

let your words

the poetry of others dissolves me with words like butterflies smashing themselves against solitary windows. flashes of liberty and my grandma's preserve jars get illuminated.
poetry must be freedom, stubborn love-spell. to be in love with your time.
poetry connects me with the invisible light in my worn out nails - the other me, you and you and him. keep caressing the back of non-existence, the day is new and I'm whistling.
soluble time: poetry or the veneration of the unknown in every word: lover, dawn, pain, bread, together, hatred
let your words be honest, imprudent, rebellious, ET
let your words be

#hpprinciples

Jan 2016

irinia

innocent apples

closer to the edge
you've never found nakedness
the taste of mirrors
-some turn on the radio-
we need a place full of
not the wrong side of hell
it's years now, it's in vain
to measure the route of light
to the other side of truth

innocent apples have ripened
and you keep excavating time
(love is not enough)

have a taste
there was honesty
in bloom

Dec 2015

Pradip Chattopadhyay

On a December Afternoon

He had to come back.

On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.

Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.

Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.

Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.

He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?

He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.

Dec 2015

GaryFairy

Vermilion

in Ohio state, that place by the lake
I miss those waves and that sandy grate
my dreams are laced with memories made
waiting for a walleye to take my bait

on Edson street, down at the creek
I leaped in just to wet my feet
where steelhead and salmon meet
it's still a dream my memory keeps

Main street beach, out on the pier
we drank in life and drank down beer
we swam to the breakwall without fear
those memories, i still hold dear

#childhood #youth #hometown #lakeerie

Dec 2015

Anubis the Philosomancer

Reflections on Christmas

Be kind and do good
for no good reason;
not because it looks good
but because it is good.

To need a day
to be humane
is to celebrate
fractured empathy.

It is good we have days
where it's hip to give and be nice,
but wouldn't it be nice indeed
if we didn't need to be reminded?

Happy Christmas-
Remember what it signifies.
Think of those with less
and meet everyone
with love, humility, and gratitude.

#love #good #gratitude #nice #kind #christmas #empathy #humility #humane #thankfulness