Nearly caught up with myself, this was written on the train back to Sheffield yesterday but I didn't have the opportunity to type it up. It looks like I am writing about a caterpillar but is it an allegory or vice versa?
Last doubts on the path to transformation
Some voice, unbidden, tells me
to build a shelter for my self.
Relinquish temperance of sun and moon.
Forge means to go beyond these tracks.
To break from my chrysalis
and stand a brilliant individual
before the many eyes.
What if I don't recognise what I become?
I've learned my limits, safe places,
where to graze on what I desire,
which hearts beat to the same rhythm.
Where is the promise they won't be lost?
What if wings aren't true freedom?
And if they are,
will the responsibility be too great?
I sew these thoughts into my skin.
The last I shall cast off on this path.
Monday, 15 April 2013
NaPoWriMo Day 12: Question
The last of the late arrival poems - I'm perhaps being a bit harsh here.
Question
As we finished our second pints
one of us posed the question:
"If anti-depressants are so popular,
why haven't they invented depressants yet?
I bet you'd make a shed load!"
He rose with smug satisfaction
and escorted his intelligence
to the bar and the next round.
I wonder how many of my questions
have answers so obvious they blind.
Question
As we finished our second pints
one of us posed the question:
"If anti-depressants are so popular,
why haven't they invented depressants yet?
I bet you'd make a shed load!"
He rose with smug satisfaction
and escorted his intelligence
to the bar and the next round.
I wonder how many of my questions
have answers so obvious they blind.
NaPoWriMo Day 11: Surviors
Days 6 through 12 were all written where I had no access to the internet so please find them here retrospectively.
Another set of bones I found in the notebook which I have made more concrete. People really appreciated the original form in a writing workshop I did but I just don't see it myself.
Survivors
The boat trudged with a weariness of oars
as we broke the charted boundaries;
this was no place for nationality.
Each man knew the horror of the word alone.
That we could all be lost
and the roots would hide our bones.
So we replaced bandages and tightened splints.
Squinted at maps for a legend called home.
Another set of bones I found in the notebook which I have made more concrete. People really appreciated the original form in a writing workshop I did but I just don't see it myself.
Survivors
The boat trudged with a weariness of oars
as we broke the charted boundaries;
this was no place for nationality.
Each man knew the horror of the word alone.
That we could all be lost
and the roots would hide our bones.
So we replaced bandages and tightened splints.
Squinted at maps for a legend called home.
NaPoWriMo Day 10: Insight Meditation
Days 6 through 12 were all written where I had no access to the internet so please find them here retrospectively.
Was reading the work of Shantideva at the time so had an attempt in a similar vein about the retreat.
Insight meditation
Thus have I learned; the body is a vessel
and within it is the mind.
Arrogantly assuming dominance,
it is eager, inquisitive and shameless.
Labeling life with the passion of an autopsy.
Bragging to be architect of every action,
it closes the door to all opportunities.
Allowing only the track which it lays.
Do not let the mind take ownership!
Listen to the volition in each muscle
and the empathic interplay of organs,
as the evening breeze cools the skin.
Though it bears witness
the mind did not sculpt this.
When emotion would twist sense topography
explore the cause and consequence
or else be marched like mind's marionette
Grant delusion and fantasy no trespass.
Raise up the blind called self.
Was reading the work of Shantideva at the time so had an attempt in a similar vein about the retreat.
Insight meditation
Thus have I learned; the body is a vessel
and within it is the mind.
Arrogantly assuming dominance,
it is eager, inquisitive and shameless.
Labeling life with the passion of an autopsy.
Bragging to be architect of every action,
it closes the door to all opportunities.
Allowing only the track which it lays.
Do not let the mind take ownership!
Listen to the volition in each muscle
and the empathic interplay of organs,
as the evening breeze cools the skin.
Though it bears witness
the mind did not sculpt this.
When emotion would twist sense topography
explore the cause and consequence
or else be marched like mind's marionette
Grant delusion and fantasy no trespass.
Raise up the blind called self.
NaPoWriMo Day 9: Willow
Days 6 through 12 were all written where I had no access to the internet so please find them here retrospectively.
I was looking at the weeping willow trees in the retreat centre's garden and mourning the fact I wouldn't get to see them covered in leaves. The resulting idea felt amazing in my head but I just haven't got it to feel right 'on paper'.
Willow
A cold spring delayed the stitch of leaves
so branches hang like the frame of a ball gown.
It can feel wrong to wait for the weeping.
The same vein of discomfort as for Ophelia,
knowing she can only pluck the heart string
when the play permits her to drown.
Until the fetters of shame and guilt are released,
theirs is a beauty that cannot be embraced.
I was looking at the weeping willow trees in the retreat centre's garden and mourning the fact I wouldn't get to see them covered in leaves. The resulting idea felt amazing in my head but I just haven't got it to feel right 'on paper'.
Willow
A cold spring delayed the stitch of leaves
so branches hang like the frame of a ball gown.
It can feel wrong to wait for the weeping.
The same vein of discomfort as for Ophelia,
knowing she can only pluck the heart string
when the play permits her to drown.
Until the fetters of shame and guilt are released,
theirs is a beauty that cannot be embraced.
NaPoWriMo Day 8: To A Soldier
Days 6 through 12 were all written where I had no access to the internet so please find them here retrospectively.
This poem was started some time ago from when I was reading Japanese poetry and after finding it in my notebook decided to complete it.
To A Soldier
Like the Sakura
you bloomed for eight days in port,
then left my limbs bare.
Now my belly has grown fat
and kicks like a lobster trap.
This poem was started some time ago from when I was reading Japanese poetry and after finding it in my notebook decided to complete it.
To A Soldier
Like the Sakura
you bloomed for eight days in port,
then left my limbs bare.
Now my belly has grown fat
and kicks like a lobster trap.
NaPoWriMo Day 7: Sogyanandi realising that the assembley was filled with pride
Days 6 through 12 were all written where I had no access to the internet so please find them here retrospectively.
This was inspired by reading the zen text, Denkoroku.
Sogyanandi realising that the assembly was filled with pride
You hurry down the path
seeking to wrench your lotus
from the mire of the defilements.
Do you not see the shrine you build
to a delusive self of spiritual prowess,
with candle, flower and incense?
When you revere your teacher
remember to see the WE
and know that I is not this WE.
Realise the arahant can be scholar or serf
and that attainment too is emptiness.
This was inspired by reading the zen text, Denkoroku.
Sogyanandi realising that the assembly was filled with pride
You hurry down the path
seeking to wrench your lotus
from the mire of the defilements.
Do you not see the shrine you build
to a delusive self of spiritual prowess,
with candle, flower and incense?
When you revere your teacher
remember to see the WE
and know that I is not this WE.
Realise the arahant can be scholar or serf
and that attainment too is emptiness.
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