By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
Obeying your words, my steps
cross the shore to guide all beings.
Mist softens this fleeting world—
the road is far, yet the heart stays near.
Looking into the mirror, I suddenly see
my hair has turned white as dew.
Each day I breathe in quietness,
chilled by the winds of impermanence.
Opening the sutra, reading word by word,
I feel the Truc Lam forest tremble.
Breathing in, the Thien Mu bell
resonates through my whole body.
A single flower is lifted—
someone holds it, yet no one holds;
someone sees it, yet no one sees;
there is only the flower appearing.
Yesterday, it was the tortoise and the hare.
Today, another unlikely pair -
an alley cat, a stolen car,
and a mouse on the lam who wouldn't get far -
two double crossers, one prayer, "God willing,
all I ask, 'a drive-by killing'".
I once swung from a tree on a noose,
but I was picked, and I rolled loose.
Yet it's times just like these,
when they put on the squeeze,
that I become fresh orange juice.
little piper, little piper
oh how fast you skip away
as the morning tide crawls in to taste the beach
briny swishes bring your breakfast
while you prance to greet the day
and they never seem to wet you
like you're privy to a chosen course of each
little piper, little piper
such a ballet you perform
when you twirl and pirouette your dainty feet
darting in-and-out the sea foam
just to keep them dry and warm
all with perfect form and motion
so as not to warn those little things you eat
little piper, little piper
you're the bane of every clam
watching closely for their bubbles in the sand
oh, the hermit crabs are missing
each-and-each now on the lam
and the hot sand gently hissing
as you try to sate your hungry chick's demand
little piper, little piper
all day long your work persists
as your tummy and your wee one both are fed
so with food enough to sleep on
'midst the creeping twilight mists
and as purple shadows deepen
comes the time to sing your little one to bed
little piper, now you dance in dreams ... instead.
Apropos of John H. Doe
A name we all know
Just like Uncle Sam
~ He too’s on the lam
____________________
'Critics Corner'
(A random sample of published reviews):
"Subtly implicative, bigly"
~ Barron and Donald J. Trump, in unison
"Emasculatory Triumph!!"
~ 'Fannie Femdom'
"Lumpen Proletariat Barfola"
~ Karl and Groucho Marx
"Aso. Learry Derightfur Liting:"
~ Shohei Ohtani, (through an interpreter)
"Yes, it IS poetry. So that means it's, well, a poem, written -- by a poet."
~ Kamala Harris, responding to a hardball question from Oprah W.
"I fell asleep reading this... twice."
~ Joseph Robinette Biden
When I am not with you, close your eyes and see me, for lam there with you always.
I am there in your heartbeat, in the warmth of blood rushing through your veins, In your memories old and new, In your soul l am entwined and l'm your forever home.
Listen for my voice in the still of the night, l'll whisper in your ear and be there to hold you tight.
Everything about me is yours to hold, to keep, my memories and my life, my heart and love so deep.
From this life to the next, I am always there with you Two hearts became one and we live inside each other for always.
mercy on the lam
empathy declared a sin~
love against the grain
***
Mr. Glock committed a crime
Its accomplice got away
It could not speak for itself
The defense attorney
entered a plea of innocence
by reason of no limbs.
The judge set bail in bullets.
I had an extra magazine and chipped in.
Mr. Glock was released with an ankle monitor
that it wore around its stock.
It was told to stay a barrel's length away from the victim
with which it easily complied.
After sentencing, it was melted down.
Into a modern age relief.
Then put on display... "public enemy number 1," it said.
Soon after, Mr. Wesson
committed a similar crime, with the very same accomplice.
He was arrested; the accomplice smiled at the security camera
and is still on the lam.
He's considered temporarily unarmed and always dangerous.
Kester
On an October morn
You were born
A bundle of love
Heaven sent from above
Through the years you grew
An Angel, who knew
You have beauty and charm
No one will you harm
Kind and gentle as a lam
The fairest in the land
Priceless is your truth
Honesty, sincerity your proof
You gifted me with more
Than I could ever hope for
A daughter wonderful and true
Brings me joy in every hue
By Cathrin Stuart
In reply to Graig's contest using the example he supplied, with minimum effort on my part.
She signed her name, "Mary"
And she knew that she'd been had
Now, she'd never get the A
So she took it on the Lam....................................b
They flutter and they flitter
Two lovebirds on the lam
Their beatings wings adorned with glitter
Tiny beads of dew reflecting in the sun.
From flower to flower they wander
A constant game of catch me if you can,
No time to wait or simply ponder
When procreation is now their only plan.
Short are the days their mission clear,
Their brief life's work comes down to this,
To live and love is what they hold most dear
One perfect union as part of Nature's bliss.
And while they dance we gaze
Lost in the beauty of their craft
Peering keenly through the wispish haze
As they glide and turn on every breath and draft.
Even the flowers smile at this fine show
Spreading their petals wide in welcome sign
Hoping that their alluring scent and glow
Will lead the lovers there to dine.
And so does nature prove it's worth
When such fine balance yields so much
As the pollen feeds the future birth
So too the flowers create from that gentle touch.
Natural Wonder
If there were an earthquake
They surely wouldn’t know
Their love’s so tremendous
They’d hardly feel the blow
If there were a twister
They wouldn’t even sneeze
Love is their shelter
They’d only feel a breeze
If there were a flood
They’d stay high & dry
Love is a mountain
Their ark in the sky
If there were a riot
Or even a stampede
Their love’s like a shield
For all the world to see
Loves force of nature
Will nullify the rest
A true natural wonder
Can weather any test
By Bill MacEachern
2018
Photo Credit: Richard Lam
Growing up, I never believed in monsters,
at least, not in the kind that lived under my bed
and in my closet.
No, the monsters I was terrified of
were the same ones my parents acknowledged:
the bus-stop child predators,
"bad people" on the news;
the most chilling collection of
scary stories made available.
Horrific fantasies were entertained during
bed-time;
I was gripped by the prospect of a lunatic
creeping in through my bedroom window &
slaying my family.
On a few instances, our town was plagued by
Grendels, of sorts.
Murderers, on the lam, who had chosen
our quiet, suburban streets to retire to.
Terrorized, my parents forbade me to even
go see my friends who lived next door,
unless I was accompanied by an adult.
No, I never believed in monsters,
in the classical sense.
The monsters I believed in
were absolutely real.
And I'm still afraid of them...
I’m just a free-range wino on the lam,
A low-rent resident of any circus tent
Accepts me as the reprobate I am.
I don’t speak Texan and I don’t intend to,
But I’ll pretend to be a rodeo clown.
I’ve got a box of bad intentions.
Gonna drink that vino down.
In vino veritas.
I'm fazed by your stunning, teeth exaltedness
It's sumptuous when you show your sublimeness.
You turned that rose branch like a rosebud softness.
Betting finely on one's heart's splendidness.
Moon is full, and my heart is whetted to your goodness.
Your deep and allured ties spur love niceness.
Your touch thrusts my spirit in a final motionless.
Don't roar when you lam the sole soul weariness.
Every single hymn in the sanctum is boundless.
Written: September 4, 2021
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