Category: lyrical poetry

Haiku-esque, lyrical poetry, Poetry, Zen

Zazen – on the farm in Hampshire

a memory evening

forgotten in the sunset

burnishes copper kettles

–

holding linen gloves

performing léger de main

with destiny’s child

–

hidden pathways unwind

each nascent moment

ever pregnant pauses

–

judge and jury mind

hears not the birdsong

resenting coming dawns

–

a tear meanders lost

on a forsaken face

quenching desert lilies

–

sandcastle dreams ebb

and flow, with the

incoming tides of life

–

under the arch’s curve

fate shelters a while

as the earth drinks deep

–

raindrops softly caress

verdant carpets drawn

on canvas fields

–

watercolours paint margins

for the Soul to journey

a leather coracle in Dao

–

the profound silence of ponds

hears water boatmen

tickle trout with song

–

the winds play flute

a chimney blows smoke rings

beech logs in the fire

–

cows chanting mantra in sheds

the prayer bell chimes

a farmer brings fresh hay

–

the kestrel hovers hungry

seeing beyond horizons

keen for future dreams

–

the woodcutter’s solitude

cuts axe blade sharp

through logs mundane

–

spiced wine warming

the veins of golden ore

pumped only by heart

–

the acrobat squirrel

crosses the swaying canyon

between century’s pylons

–

semaphore trees

waving long naked fingers

in winter’s winds

–

the point before mind

waits for the ripple of

a passing thought

–

stardust falls silent

for those who wait

no footprints in the snow

–

a match scratches a back

a hint of phosphorous

fire eases the itch of cold

–

moss on the trees

hiding from sunrays

growing only aeon’s beards

–

the wise old yews

cracking knuckles in the breeze

have watched millennia

–

the moorhens plink

pennies in a fountain

wishing for luck at dawn

–

a carrion crow plucks

a hearty breakfast

at the roadside café

–

omniscience counts

each Autumn leaf

the actuary of Souls

–

how does dharma teach

the fiery core of stars

only by feathers in the heart

–

what lies before now

only the present sleeping

waiting for the cockerel

–

what lies after now

only persistent dawns

irradiated with dew

–

what lies in the now

only forever born eternal

in the womb of moment

–

singing songs in the bath

no-one is watching

a child starts to walk

–

as naked as spring

a flower unfolds its flag

saying only welcome

–

the candle shimmers

beacons burn on the hills

eyes glisten with living love

–

an owl hoots in laughter

at man’s busy lives

pondering on their shadows

–

a spider’s web tense

sees the ants commute

yearning for love

–

soft down in chestnut shells

beyond fish hook barbs

cradles possibility

–

red holly berries

write in their font of hope

amidst the thorns

–

wide empty paths

leading to the cosmic causeway

where bamboo bridges flex

–

the Dao bends the reed

to fit the clarinet

and Gabriel’s oboe

–

Dao tunes pianos

in the darkness of night

a quintessence is born

–

a river carves Souls

whilst brooks chuckle softly

over the mossy rocks

–

mayflies tickle the eddies

willows bowing humble

under azure skies

–

scent carries fragrance

of lotus blossom

cherishing tender Sakurai

–

a single petal floats

wafted on pillow dreams

cotton wool soothes with a tincture

–

cutting carrots fine

a sliver of perfection

crisp and juicy with joy

–

sliced ginger pervades

more pungent than any dawn

a newborn deer forages

lyrical poetry, Personal Development, Poetry

Letting Go

Knuckles round knife

And cutting the slice,

Peeling and paring

The earthen skin.

–

Searching the puzzle

And picking apart

Easing the seems

In integral heart.

–

Swollen of toe

In junior school shoes,

Casting away,

The things I must lose.

–

Barnacle’s grip

On memory rocks

Washed by the tides,

To loosen the locks.

–

Time is the oil,

Of Sesame’s call

Choosing the future

Amongst potential’s all.

–

Taking the grey ships

Into the West.

Death of the Old,

And pains in my chest.

–

Left on the beach,

In seaweed embrace.

Turning away

And looking for pace.

–

Leaving behind,

The more that you take,

Footsteps in sand,

And thirst that won’t slake.

–

Melancholy’s magic,

Tempers my mood

Washes the cheeks

And deadens the food.

–

Waiting and watching,

For sunrise in East,

Birth of the Knew,

Is bringing its feast.

–

Release is elastic

And stretches the thread,

Taking the knife,

And paring it dead.

–

Pulling on chord,

In navel hue

Eviscerate and cleanse,

The time it is due.

–

Letting it go

Is hard and IT aches

–

Letting it go

Is sad with BUT brakes.

–

Letting it go

Is now and IT takes.

–

Letting it go

Is time and IT makes.

–

Letting it go,

Is free and NO fakes.

–

Go to the door,

Yell at the sky

Open those wings,

It is, time to fly.

–

Raising above,

And looking down.

How small is the past

How distant, its town.

–

Ginger bread houses

And icing sugar roof

The future is here

Please, give me some proof.

–

Letting it go

Is hard as nails.

–

Letting it go

Is hard as ….

–

Letting it go

Is hard……

–

Letting it go

Is…….

–

Gone.

Dreams, lyrical poetry, Mental Health, Poetry

Johnny Two Worlds


He was never the same

When he came back

Those eyes

Had seen too much

Those ears

Had heard too much

–

He often joked

About the crack

In him

–

Quiet as a mouse

He scurries down the corridors

Polite and friendly to all

Johnny is warm

And he laughs a lot

–

On the turn of a penny

He is at the front again

Running down the chattering nests

Of Kalashnikov rain

–

All battle plans

And lights, camera, action

–

And then he is far away

Lost in the tranquil dreams

Of another land

Of rustic charm and mystic dew

–

Of soft and yielding maids

And battleaxe dragons

–

When he isn’t looking

The passion plays

And he speaks in ways

That no-one forgets

–

Yet each time he does this

They all know

And look again

And then pretend

They haven’t heard

–

For somehow it is impolite

To stray from the weather

–

Johnny knows that

People seek him

So he hides

–

He told me it was gravity

And it was better to hide

Than to say no

–

Because he rarely takes

People are somehow

Ill at ease

–

They want him to give

Yet know there is no balance

–

Johnny said it was the crack

That made him a little mad

And that, lights were best

Kept

Under the carpet

–

Johnny two worlds

Is a practical man

He gets stuff done

–

Johnny two worlds

Is as reliable as bread

–

Yet

Let

Him

Dream

–

And Johnny two worlds

Walks the thunder

And the wonder

Of

Infinity

–

He was never the same

When he came back

Those eyes

Had seen too much

Those ears

Had heard too much

lyrical poetry, Poetry

on peut voir l’éternelle

How slow is each second

and yet quick every year?

The snail and the dragonfly

know each other, too well.

–

Eternity is a friend

waiting at the door,

had I but something

to offer him in return.

–

Nothing is a meal

that breaks any fast

much more than whole

and always enough.

–

As the autumn leaves turn

and winter snow falls,

it is only I who remain,

I, whatever, I am.

Haiku-esque, lyrical poetry, Poetry

Fog “Haiku”

dripping with silence

the fog embraces

a vellum envelope

–

no breath breathing

a distillation of dew

way before its dawn

–

the spectre of a barn

hidden coyly

beyond a misty fig leaf

–

wet blotting papers

with no ink of sun

to irradiate diamonds

–

cling like chewing gum

to the damp

pavement of the day

–

soon the Tenebrae

of dusk, will tip toe,

up the green carpet

–

this sceptered isle

will lay its head

on pillow down

–

the fog will give

of its febrile feathers

to comfort in sleep.

lyrical poetry, Poetry

Deep in the Silent Forest

in the silent forest,

the sage counts thyme

with the Mary Rose

–

backwards it flows

towards a moment

in a see, saw, life

–

that prescience of

a single second,

hanging on a barb

–

where a face sways

the more demanding

on a ramshackle swing

–

again, in this life

a game of dice

with so very many losers

–

past bedtime now

and so to sleep

under duvet cosy

–

une épave qui reste,

au fond de la mer,

en état de non-flottabilité

lyrical poetry, Mantra, New Age, Poetry

I am a Magical Being of the Universe

Before the beginning of time

the seed of cosmic stardust

was sown into the primordial Aether

there to create all the incandescent gold of me

–

Forged on the very Anvil of beingness

I am folded fine, thousands of times

the edge of my Soul shines sharp and brilliant

a clarion bell brimming full of galactic potential

–

My consciousness is not transfixed here

it encompasses all that there is and has been

it extends far, far into the aeonial future

I, the real I, know no limits

I have no chains

–

My beingness is seeped deep profound with pure white Magic

I have capacities which transcend my limited imagination

my power as both a God and a man knows no bounds

I, the alpha and omega, am a fiery circle of God’s ineffable intent

I am at one with His will and I burn within, a desert bush on a mountain side

–

I seek all the wonders of creation beneficent with the gifts most sublime

I hold each treasure, each sparkle delight of 24 carat gold dust in my innermost core

the essence of eternity coats my translucent dragon wings as I soar among nebulae

I sail beyond the event horizon of this mundane life into dimensions without parallel

I have no chains

–

Known, unknown and unknowable

I am a Magical being of the Universe

a star child born in space

who dances each second of his time

here, on earth, where it really matters.