#zen poems on Hello Poetry

Sean Crewson Apr 24

We Share

The Wonder
I Forage,
Nurtures Me,
Holds Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Truth
I Bare,
Weighs Me,
Calls Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Poison
I Indulge,
Wares Me,
Needs Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Council
I Keep,
Guides Me,
Lifts Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

Woven Lines
Bound Tight,
Overlapping,
Contemplating
Rank and Satus;
Seeking Order.

The Highest
Of Highs, an
Upward Gaze.
A Brilliant Light,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.
Sits with Me.
Sits with You.
Sits with US.

#zen #life #mind #thought #connection

kevin Mar 30

civilrights/votingrights/democracyreform

update on communication of opinion with senator warren

constitutional means and measure as provided in description of property

antitrust boredom

petrol
the contemporary lobbying for additional police
in policy writing equates
to the value of ignition of petrol
rather than the clerical error correction
of a homeless person becoming american
that prepaid property of the citizen is in trial
as evidence at the moment
exiting a sealed indictment for all
of those who accepted the transaction
ill gotten gains
from the ill in the streets
knowingly watching americans die
while issuance of wealth was described
in due process
allowance of interpretation of placement
of individual case by case of medical need

present day has concluded process of intelligent quotient ability
of laws to enforce death certificates as an economic
recovery interest in the mortality of exposure sector
of mathematical finite means for speech.

civil rights as commodity?

#civilrights #commodity #zen #buddhism

kevin Mar 25

sazen

this is the otherside
you only get me
they get
my path
my water
my wombe
contritions wombe
irish logs they wouldnt count
i swam back with the louvre

Making IT Too PRINT

#zen

Dom Mar 14

Praxinoscope

Still, unburdened by the silence
Mindful of my equanimity
Beneath the umbrageous canopies -
Where Sylvan shapes form from splitting rays -
Swayed in nature’s praxinoscope.

#nature #peace #praxinoscope #forest #zen #brevity

Jordin Jan 16

10T) The Fantasia of Old (D9311T)

Only the other day the vividity was insane
The world my eyes see was smelting/melting
& the world my I's see was smelting/melting
But just then, as I found my centre
The Fantasia of old would hardly enter
It was enough of the stuff & much more than most men
Yet a part of me wants back to that fantastical Zen

In regards to the poem's inception:
It was a day & I went on a walk.
Upon the latter part of my walk, my psyche shifted & there was a stark drop in the vividity of my imagination.
This poem was a reflection upon that moment.

At the time this decrease was unprecedented.
Typically my imagination is a kind of tripple vision.
There is my regular optical vision.
There is the vision of the mind's eye which is usually wrapped in a rainbow colour like theme.
There is the vision of the mind's eye overlaid upon the regular optical vision.

Whilst I have been thinking about triple vision as a concept for some time; predating the poem count by some margin--I later found a kind of parallel with William Blake's notion of Fourfold Vision.

In regards to the poem title:
The word Fantasia is a homophone for Phantasia; where Phantasia, among other things, is the root word for fantasy as well as the ability to visualise in the mind. The name Fantasia was chosen in part over Phantasia given its musical-like connotations.

In regard to the poem's attributes:
This poem is one of the first poems to concentrate on a homophone (eyes & I's).
Within my canon so to speak I play with homophones quite a bit.
This poem is also one of the first poems to have a kind of multipath-like structure (smelting/melting)...

(WARNING: DEEP DIVE AHEAD)

It may be worthwhile to touch upon the conceptual maps of the homophonic pathways.

For instance within eyes & I's & smelting/melting there are 4 core paths so to speak. If one wanted to map out these in a kind of symbolic chain, maybe it would look something like this:

…eyes…melting -> …eyes…process of heating to convert to liquid -> …eyes…liquid -> …visibility…liquid -> …visibility…(indistinct / impressionistic / dreamlike / fluid) ->

…eyes…smelting -> …vision..process of heating to convert into purest form -> vision…pure -> pure vision ->

…I’s…smelting -> …self concept…smelting -> …self concept…process of heating to convert into purest form -> …I’s…pure -> pure I’s ->

…I’s…melting -> …self concept…melting -> …self concept…process of heating to convert to liquid -> …self concept…liquid -> dissolution of self concept ->

#homophone #imagination #multipath #nequals7 #quaternity #vision #zen

DJQuill Jan 8

The Quiet Persistence

Water runs calmly
A garden within chaos
Grass still grow greener

A memory of my time in Kyoto

#haiku #zen #memories #growth #persistence

Nick Moore Jul 2013

Zen Cow

The Zen Cow
"what's wrong with right now?"

I had it, now I lost it!
the big Joke
a fish looking for water!
the masters stick
gave me a poke.

#zen

Jack Groundhog Oct 2024

The sailor’s lay

A tattooed man, burly and grey,
twists his hemp-fiber rope.
He thinks only of this cable’s lay,
not of wistfulness or unfulfilled hope.

His skin is bronzed and deeply creased
echoing the waves of the sea.
The grey wisps of his forearms’ thin fleece
recall thousands of mornings misty.

His thick fingers grasp like old iron anchors
as his mind glides through his tasks.
He pays no heed to the long-faded cankers
on his worn body from times long past.

Silently he furls the white canvas sails
and stows the great ropes below.
He calmly swabs with a mop and a pail
all the sea salt on the deck white as snow.

The now naked oak masts still rise to blue skies
as seagulls circle and sing their own lay.
But the sailor man hears not their cries —
He turns the capstan: Anchor aweigh.

The oaken ship now glides at slow pace,
adrift on the wide open waters.
A smile takes shape under grey beard’s lace:
He seeks the hand of Poseidon’s daughter.

He’s the last of the crew on this ship of the line.
He sails to be one with the sea.
He waits in calm as the smell of the brine
signals his new bride has welcomed his plea.

Ages hence a wreck will be found
with just one skeleton aboard.
But upon one bony finger, a round
gold band shines out like a vast hoard.

The word “lay” has multiple meanings: A song, a hiding place or lair, the tightness of a rope, an occupation, and more. The poem uses the layers of these different meanings to tell a ballad of a sailor at the end of his days. It also obliquely references maritime legends such as Jason and the Golden Fleece.

#death #acceptance #calm #zen #sea #sailor #ballad #lay #ocean #dedication

Jack Groundhog Oct 2024

The river

I’m in a wide deep river
that flows onwards to the sea.
The wind gusts at my back
in spite of the lee.

The bleak banks are far away,
the murky waters are swift,
my feet don’t reach the river’s bed,
I’m floating lonely and adrift.

Once every so often
I bump against a big rock
that my hands will firmly clasp
to stop the tick and the tock —

but the rock is slick
with the slime of passing time
and I slip on and on
to the sunset light sublime.

Look: All around are scattered people
failing too to stem the flow
as the tireless river hurries on
towards the sunset’s vesper glow.

Then I start to grasp
that to fight it is to fail
and I must be one with the river,
not see it as my jail.

And now, and now, and now:
As my thoughts flow consoled,
I float as one with clockwork water…
each bobbing second turns into gold.

Musing on the passage of time and learning to accept growing old.

#aging #time #acceptance #zen #mortality #death