Best Monks Poems
Faithful few
Filled the
Firmament with
Fundamental fervour
Finally finding, through
Fastidious fellowship,
Future fanatical friends and
Fulfilling the fine frequency
Favourable for forgiveness.
Finally.
Amidst saffron robes nail-bit hand reveals
mobile
phone
Laughing-robed companion brandishes
ice cream
cone
Shaved-headed naughty boys practice
chanting
tones
Humble golden temple gates peeling paint
stone on
stone
V. Anderson-Throop 22 May 2015
The worship of light,
Scented prayers resonate:
Mass of lit candles.
The monks are burning on the street
They are protesting the violence of war
Pain is not part of their protest
Only the pain in the hearts of men who foster war
They will become ashes on the street
And be swept up into the winds of eternity
Where are these universal souls?
How do we contact them?
Are they lying in the streets of Siagon?
Are they blowing in the Saharan winds?
Are they infused into everything we breath?
I want to feel their commitment
Feel their strength.
They came out of their temples
To show us the truth
Not in the palm of a hand
Or in the tea leaves of a cup
But in true human commitment.
I cannot imagine that commitment
I live in the shadow of society
And the pressures of a common man
Work to eat, live to play, pretend to be content
But are any of us truly content?
I look through the yellow windows of a commuter train
Watching the people march down the streets to their lives
And what does it mean?
The bankers and the money men have won
We have become assimilated and numb.
I can’t do it anymore so I put on my robes
I walk outside and sit in my temple of stones
I light the fire and watch it burn
It creeps closer and I try and forget the pain
Mantra, mantra, mantra……..God it hurts
Take my mind from this world
Free my body and my soul
I am joining the living dead.
1
A glittering candle flame
A candle flame does not flutter
and is not extinguished
for it is determined to glitter
and not to be tarnished!
Said “Dear devout
Halt a moment and hark!
Here is a blemish-less monk
even in the dark!!”
2
Candle flame to monk
A candle flame fluttered and vanished
for, it wished not to be tarnished.
Said, "Ye monk, mind your deeds black
Character is what a man does dark!"
I finally found my peace,
Within these cold stone walls,
I'm Humbled on my knees,
As every echo calls...
This accidental priest,
By some glorious chance,
In a servants fleece,
And crucifix in hand...
Bathing in a light,
That's naked to the eye,
But as its blinding me,
It's warming me inside...
Which leaves me falling deep,
As the choir stands,
Letting me be free,
In gregorian chant...
I finally found the peace,
That lives within my soul,
And now I'll never be,
Afraid of letting go...
Darest Vicar –
Tell your kins: the monks
White-haired under a false piety
Their sermons under-nourished
Many of the young inmates
Of the huge monasteries!
Darest Vicar –
Where are those gentle levant monks?
Tell your bothers: the monks
Especially that notorious monk
Wearing a huge globe over blind eyes
Wearing a tower-hat on a bald head
The prodigal partition of our nurture
Remains the perdition of the forest!
Thirteen men of doubt we were; forsaken from our own minds.
We weren't like our masters. We were like raw iron with no grind.
Without any experience and faith, we seemed weak to all.
Yet, we were the thirteen that were said to hear the call.
We were mined from our deposits, and forged into a force.
A force of will, strength, faith, and courage, we were no longer coarse.
Thirteen men of strong will we became; the force of serenity.
Our offense being water, and defense being earth, this was our identity.
War has broken loose. The greediness of man stole our lands.
As thirteen we were chosen; to risk life for peace while we stand.
Against one-thousand men, while outnumbered, we were still stronger.
Our twenty-six hands turned to that of ten-thousand. We took doubt no longer.
One-thousand men defeated, but no lives taken; the hand of peace spoke.
Will is never lost. It is only found. When attained, men are one not broke.
Thirteen guardians of courage we remained; from ore to edge.
Thirteen men of realization we became. Of peace and faith we pledge.
The monks of Shun Lun Phi
Live life in the mountains high
While pulls the ground in gravity
Meditative hands stretch up
Bequesting sky to drown them nigh
Two men
walking
Two monks
talking
Both men
Buddhists
One man
hiding lust
They see
Maiden ... great beauty
Muddy lake
Body exposed would make
The older monk
Offers to carry
Gratefully thanked
By the Beauty
After more miles
Walking and talking
Younger monk smiles
Did you enjoy the carrying?
The older one declared:
"I put her down miles back
But now I feel almost despaired
That you still have her on your back!"
Solitary monks
Come togerher as brothers
Simply in communion.
The Spirit binds
Each man's life.
They work,
And they pray
To the glory of God,
Breakling bread together,
Renouncing the evil world.
I don't think, I'm a feeler
And I feel heavily for her
A monk grows out his head
And leaves his house,
A patriot would turn for her
I don't speak, I'm a liver
Due to the abstinence
Of my other parts
The devout preacher
Cuts and pours
His heart onto bathroom sinks
For his house is empty
He, has left his religion
For something more heavenly
The monk grows out his hair for love,
He who is broke in spirit, becomes a believer
Unspoken words flood in open verse,
A schoolgirl becomes a healer.