"disattached" poems - Hello Poetry

"Make of yourself a light" said the Buddha, before he died. I think of this every morning as the east begins to tear off its many clouds of darkness, to send up the first signal-a white fan streaked with pink and violet, even green. An old man, he lay down between two sala trees, and he might have said anything, knowing it was his final hour. The light burns upward, it thickens and settles over the fields. Around him, the villagers gathered and stretched forward to listen. Even before the sun itself hangs, disattached, in the blue air, I am touched everywhere by its ocean of yellow waves. No doubt he thought of everything that had happened in his difficult life. And then I feel the sun itself as it blazes over the hills, like a million flowers on fire- clearly I'm not needed, yet I feel myself turning into something of inexplicable value. Slowly, beneath the branches, he raised his head. He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.

0

5.1k

Mary Oliver

The Buddha's Last Instruction

"Make of yourself a light" said the Buddha, before he died. I think of this every morning as the east begins to tear off its many clouds of darkness, to send up the first signal-a white fan streaked with pink and violet, even green. An old man, he lay down between two sala trees, and he might have said anything, knowing it was his final hour. The light burns upward, it thickens and settles over the fields. Around him, the villagers gathered and stretched forward to listen. Even before the sun itself hangs, disattached, in the blue air, I am touched everywhere by its ocean of yellow waves. No doubt he thought of everything that had happened in his difficult life. And then I feel the sun itself as it blazes over the hills, like a million flowers on fire- clearly I'm not needed, yet I feel myself turning into something of inexplicable value. Slowly, beneath the branches, he raised his head. He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.

33

These students are walking There headphones are blaring Disattached from the world Blankly they are staring I glance at the clock Not wanting to talk My headphones are broken So silent i walk Forced to find Something that will blind A kind of distraction To keep from the demons in the back of my mind Away from the fears The wandering ears So evil are the demons That bring me to tears The looming of dept The fear of regret Without any distraction I cannot forget My headphones are broken The demons have awoken This silence it scares me As do the fears i have spoken This walk is taking forever This heat a blistering fever Forced to be grounded With nothing to be a deceiver My headphones are broken My dark thoughts have risen The evil I try to tuck away Anger, pain, and fear I am stricken Finally back in my room Protection from the lurking doom I blast the music as loud as i can And the demons return to their tomb

0

Sep 1, 2018

Sep 1, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC

M3lo

Headphones

These students are walking There headphones are blaring Disattached from the world Blankly they are staring I glance at the clock Not wanting to talk My headphones are broken So silent i walk Forced to find Something that will blind A kind of distraction To keep from the demons in the back of my mind Away from the fears The wandering ears So evil are the demons That bring me to tears The looming of dept The fear of regret Without any distraction I cannot forget My headphones are broken The demons have awoken This silence it scares me As do the fears i have spoken This walk is taking forever This heat a blistering fever Forced to be grounded With nothing to be a deceiver My headphones are broken My dark thoughts have risen The evil I try to tuck away Anger, pain, and fear I am stricken Finally back in my room Protection from the lurking doom I blast the music as loud as i can And the demons return to their tomb

36

no one really noticed not until he stood six thousand miles, disattached from the world cold, grey separation and they screamed for him, but he couldn't hear over the taunting the cold, uncaring the anger was just too loud until he fell, and met the welcoming ground and of course suddenly he was loved but only in death and by the time that oaken box of a broken man passed by it was too late to care.

0

Apr 24, 2013

Apr 24, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC

cait-sophie-boyt

concrete

no one really noticed not until he stood six thousand miles, disattached from the world cold, grey separation and they screamed for him, but he couldn't hear over the taunting the cold, uncaring the anger was just too loud until he fell, and met the welcoming ground and of course suddenly he was loved but only in death and by the time that oaken box of a broken man passed by it was too late to care.

18