In dreams the interface between known
And unknown
Is as clear and simple as turning a card.
What was previously unknown
Becomes revealed,
The dream simply a series of such moments,
As the unconscious unfolds each moment.
Waking life is different,
More ambiguous as if consciousness
Is just the tip of a mountain above a sea of clouds,
So much unknown, but yet accepted as such,
A background sustaining what is
Merely personal and fleeting,
Our place in the world,
Our steps on the path we travel,
But all too often with uncertainty,
Certainly without the clarity of a dream
Unfolding with each ripe symbolic moment.
And then in life death comes,
The ultimate unknown
Revealed at last
Personal and fleeting, or
Universal and eternal…
Revealed but perhaps never grasped.
Such is the difference in dreams
And waking life,
Although both are clearly determined,
The unknown becomes the known,
And known the unknown,
In completely different way.
(8/31/26)
Mysterious circumstance
Mature birth
Near Death
Number 7
Doctors had given up hope
Prayer saved the day
From Heaven being the way
The Lord himself
Clear and simple
No question about it
Thee himself
Doctors were misinformed
Thinking their own understanding
Life sustained
Fulfilling future that remained
Passing storm
Fruitful life.
Growing up, I don't recall
being promised anything.
Disappointments? Yes. Plenty.
Deceived or lied to? Yes, and yes.
Broken laws, broken rules, and broken toys;
Broken windows and broken hearts;
Broken bottles and broken bats;
Broken promises? Don't remember any.
It was either , "Yes, I will", or, "No, I won't".
They did their best, and that was enough.
People either delivered, or they did not.
They kept things clear and simple.
Hoping was huge. Promises? Small.
It is better to be a promising person
that to be a promised person.
So, I never had to say to mom, dad, or
Anyone, "But you p r o m I s e d!"
The wise man should not avoid indispensable source/s for knowledge
Master Longchenpa’s heart advice is simple yet profound;
that everything we perceive is our mind’s projection,
and thus delusion,
that everything we experience is in flux,
temporary and not solidly real,
and thus illusion,
and that the path forward is one of letting go,
lightening up, being less heavy and serious,
more easy come, easy go…about it ALL.
This is the path of peace, and pristine purity,
the direct path to complete and perfect enlightenment.
In other words, it doesn’t get more clear and simple
helpful and direct than this.
And yet, as clear and simple as it is,
I am sure the vast majority of people
would not find it satisfying,
would not find it attractive,
would not find it offers enough.
You cannot fix samsara!
Yet that is what samsaric beings are bound to do;
samsara itself being the effect
of their desire to improve
their lot in Life
the pristine nature of their mind
the mirror-like nature of their experience.
Well then, welcome to samsara.
(4/22/23)
An example of SciFaiku*
terraforming mars
will the god of war
be pleased
*SciFaiku, is a form of poetry inspired by the Japanese haiku, also sometimes known as scifi-ku or scifiku. SciFaiku poems are short, minimal poems about science and science-fiction topics. They are presented with direct, tangible images in clear and simple language.
I HAVE NEVER BEEN THIS HAPPY
SO GLAD SHE HAD COME ALONE
MY DAYS BEFORE WER CRAPPY
SINGING THAT SAD
LONESOME SONG
IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF SPECIAL LADY
AINT NO SHAME IN SAYING
YOU MIGHT THINK I'M CRAZY
ME AND THIS GAL
AINT PLAYING
PUT A BOUNCE IN MY WALK
GOT ME WALKING IN A BRAND NEW WAY
GOT TO TAKE MY TIME
WHEN I'M TALKING
I GOTTA WATCH WHAT I SAY
OBER, BOBER, DEW, DE WOOP
SKIP, DIP, DADDLE DE DEW.
SEE, BABY WHAT I'M
SAYING
CLEAR AND SIMPLE
I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!
I used to fish from the banks of a lake next to our farm
many many years ago. My fishing gear consisted
of a thin branch cut from a willow tree. For a hook
I used a needle my mom gave me. I would use pliers
and hold it over a fire.
Then I would bend it to form a hook. For a line, I would
use white sewing thread. For bait, I would use mom’s
cookie doe and shaped small balls and place them on my home-made hook.
I remember the blue green water of the lake where one
could drink without fear of contaminants. I would
use a match stick for a bobber and caught numerous perch and crappy. Mom would clean them and cook them in lard she made herself.
Life was simple then. Dad and Mom were always together and would often held hands as they walked to the grocery store. The air was so clean and pure that breathing was like inhaling nature. I would listen to the silence and my thoughts
were so clear and simple. I knew who I was and where I came from.
Oh, how I miss those carefree days.
If everything were simple it would shape just like a brain,
And I’d take it out and look at it and never feel a pain,
And I’d pity poorer mortals who didn’t care if it were true,
For the clear and simple reasons that explained their shallow view,
And my life would be a pleasure with no pondering to annoy,
For there wouldn’t be a single loose end to tie up...
I can’t play with words
I can’t make them dance
I can’t show the essence
Of a sweet romance
I can’t make them soar
I can’t make words fly
I can’t make them brave
So that they touch the sky
I can’t make them sparkle
No, I can’t make them shine
I can’t make them yearn
In a love song so fine
I can’t draw word sketches
That help the eyes to see
Hidden revelations
Of a great Deity
My words are quite simple
No, they are not profound
They’re quarried from my heart
My struggles they expound
No need for outside help
To search for what I mean
It is clear and simple
The message can be seen
I’m a humble writer
My words bleed from my soul
I write to find healing
I need to be made whole
Thank you all for reading
For posting comments here
For withholding judgment
That’s why I hold you dear
Jesus used simple words
To make them understand
Profound eternal truths
Birthed in His master plan
And so I’ll keep writing
My little poetry
And hope someone somewhere
Finds joy in reading me
Eileen Manassian Ghali
What is the reason for my being
Am I sent here just to learn
Is it everything I'm seeing
At each and every turn
As I open up my eyes
My mind is filled with wonder
It comes as no surprise
After lightning there is thunder
I can see with more than sight
If I open my mind
We can reach another height
Even if we're blind
Turning a blind eye
Can leave you short of sight
No matter how we try
Some need a little light
So the reason for my being
Is a clear and simple thing
It's to get you all to seeing
The joy that sight can bring
I remain silent though my heart is weeping.
I exist - impassively and automatically.
I’m a machine – indifferent, hardly functioning.
Yet I breathe. It can’t be true. It can’t be possible.
I always shuddered to think of your departure.
Nothing lasts forever .Yes, I should know this.
Who’s to blame? I try to find an answer.
I was ready for anything except for the dry tears...
I try to find myself in the new reality.
There is no hope to change the course of events.
Sometime my days won’t be so sad and empty,
But now I am in pain. But now my heart laments.
I hide my despair from you and people,
I am full of memories I can’t resist.
Sometime everything will be clear and simple,
But now my lips hurt not being kissed...
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.