I Wish I Had Time For Poetry and Plays

Written by: Jeff Troyer

I wish I had time for poetry and plays
My mind allowed 
As I watched the same aged, bespectacled monk
For about the fifteenth time this month
 Patter his bare feet
Upon the pavement
Of the dust filled lane.

 Leaving me again
 To contemplate
  Broken shards of yesterday
In a faraway land that reminds me of
 Secret Pacts made
To myself
 In the time when
Getting too busy was never an option.

These the promises
 Made in Nepalese skies
 below the Lost Horizon
Of the Dalai Lama
I could not see
 The coming years that would
 Tumble earthwards
Like over ripe plums.
Nor the red Lama
Perched on an Annapurnan cliff
Melodic verses
Centuries old 
 Tying a 
Red ribbon round my
 Wrist and soul.

There they lay.
 Meditations that never were,
Given by Siddhartha, Confucius and, even a carpenter, from
The Middle East.
They have even appeared 
In soiled books, 
Ashrams on the Ganges,
Scribbled on bar room napkins and
 Confessed to
 Unsuspecting passersby.

Where are these ruminations now
As the pages stick 
Like books rarely read
In a villages unseen
By streams only heard 
When all I want 
Is a little respite
From the traffic
That hums
 Next to the lane
That is just beside my patio
Where that same monk will 
Rise up early,
Don a saffron-gold robe and greet dawn 
Both eyes smiling? 

Jeff Troyer
2006 (Chiang Mai, Thailand)