Long Impermanence Poems
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Sure as spring-ebullient cedes to summer’s escapades
In vagaries of time a budding flower parches and fades
And the sweet sound of hatchlings abandons its nest
And autumn’s gilded leaves perish in throes of decay
And dethroned from its apex, sun-glorious as well sets.
Much alike nature, as life unleashes unsettling events
For some, its turbulence triggers hysterical blindness
And esteem that waxed to full-moon begins to wane
Akin to a sunny day that darkens and suddenly rains
Or flame of desires extinguishes in lovelorn marriage.
Purpose and meaning no longer wield a special clout
As soul of vigor confused harbors despondent doubt
And sense of self deteriorates into endless distraught
Till a beloved hand of compassion lovingly reaches out
Reconsolidating its ego, letting spent passions sprout;
Spurring momentous days, seizing thrilled moments,
Un-remembering yesterday, rejoicing bliss of present
Knowing tomorrow’s fate isn’t as assured as today’s,
Cognizant of transience and impermanence of being,
For now is real as can be, for tomorrow may be elusive.
October 6, 2021
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Hysterical Blindness
At any given instant
That that is constant
Is formless I Am awareness
Experiencing in-form consciousness
As it’s own outward turned attention
Feeling the pulse of union & separation
Within fleeting duality
Encasing the one singularity
A Divine entwined caress
In the endless sea of bliss
At any given instant
That which is inconstant
Is ego borne delusion
Believing real the illusion
Of separateness
Of itself from the That Oneness
Indulgence in maya being the foolishness
Of attempting to grasp the impermanence
We may of course exit the mind-body construction
By flowing in dynamic stillness of rippleless meditation
No doing to be done then save undoing stagnative conditioning
We reclaim That that we already are one with Ohm reverberating
Within
From quantum whispers,
a universe awakens.
A birth in stellar nurseries,
where light ignites.
Appearance and disappearance,
a dance of creation,
a cosmic ballet,
everlasting and fleeting.
Invisible to our limited sight,
a mystery in swirling existence.
Permanent yet ephemeral,
a cosmic puzzle,
beyond our grasp.
What traces remain?
when the stars fade away?
when galaxies collapse?
Are they truly gone,
or merely transformed?
Hidden in spacetime’s weave,
in the universe’s memory.
Appearance and disappearance,
teachers of impermanence,
choreographers of existence.
You are the heartbeat
of the cosmic symphony.
You are reality’s breath,
ever-present,
always shifting.
Over upon an oasis where the cool wind blew
Bejeweled and as precious as the morning dew
Just as the pale light of the rising sun renew
Emblazoning as the day more beautiful grew
Could then the gods of yore, oh, rise up anew
To set this world right sadly gone askew.
I am a hapless wandering soul
Meandering along out of control
Pausing nowhere for some lofty goal
Eternally seeking my God-given role
Rejoicing for the gift of life as a whole.
Mourning the day I’ll give up this race
Assured, I can finally rest some place
Nigh Lord’s grand design and grace
Eternally holding my soul face to face
Notwithstanding all my shortcomings
Captivatingly idyllic with natural things
Empowered by the divine king of kings.
~Form: Rhyming Acrostic
~Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
The good witch is still trying hard to collect the future
Nostalgic and post-modern she fondles her crystal ball
With soft hands she embraces Gaia and its sepia hue
Oblivious to oblivion she attempts to elude the inevitable
A monochrome reminder of the future’s soft calling
If the earth was flat warriors would fall of the edges
But her grip remains an illusion of human endeavour
And yet the photographer’s lens refuses acceptance
'My paradigm is one of lingering hope' he seems to allude
The voice of a renegade artist while the shutter is closed
The mind wanders along fantasy’s perambulating soul
Blends out a scream shot phases into caring surrender
Of a world not quite forgotten in hearts of compassion
Tables need turning and sheets hold fragrance of love
Flickering light embraces translucent impermanence
Its not rocket science to kindle an ephemeral candle
With astronauts on the moon and apocalyptic star wars
Prophesy’s calling however resigns to a parallel universe
In which the dark ages have come to haunt humankind
Clairvoyants see photophiles show and the poet must write
29th February 2020
By Phan Tan Hai
Last night I listened to the Dharma on the hill;
today I descend the mountain, chanting ancient sutras.
If someone asks, I simply say
I studied—and forgot it all, as if I’d never learned a thing.
Luckily a few words remain in my poems,
their fragrance carried by ink along the shores of birth and death;
speaking, laughing, walking like a sutra—
you and I appearing only as reflections in a mirror.
Last night I sat in the Dharma hall,
hearing storm winds and river rain across the long miles;
if someone asks, I point only to mist and smoke—
treatises and scriptures leave no trace upon me.
Seeing the mind neither coming nor going,
both shores dissolving, far from sorrow;
a muddy buffalo crossing waves—where does it go?
leaving no footprints, even the bridge drifts away.
Last night the moon rose over the hill;
I saw the mind silent—no self, no other.
If someone asks, I lift a single flower;
whatever is seen, whatever is known, is distant by ten thousand realms.
Joy arises as I copy impermanence,
Dharma words blending with the night’s poetry;
the written lines fall away beyond the eaves—
only the wordless sutra remains to teach meditation.
Last night dew soaked my shoulders;
I sat releasing past, present, and future.
If someone asks, I offer only the sound of a bell—
who holds it, who hears it, all like a dream.
Tomorrow I will carry the Dharma across the shore,
transmitting the moon-mind—who waits, who goes?
empty and open like the evening sunlight,
nothing to hold, nothing to release.
---- Respectfully dedicated to the esteemed Do Hong Ngoc, Tran Tuan Man, Nguyen Can, and Venerable Minh Dieu Nguyen The Dang.
TIME AND GRACE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
time and grace intertwine
time gives us moments
grace restores and bestows
time unfurls
seconds dance
minutes waltz with hours
time marches forward
days turn into years
never rewinds
time beguiles
always alludes
denotes impermanence
grace guides
illuminates life’s labyrinths
makes us whole
grace whispers
moves with elegance
ballet in motion
grace soothes
flows like river
brings purpose and ease
time and grace a duo
subtle yet profound
transcendent and unbound
The residents slowly amble
toward the buffet,
some using canes or walkers,
a few sitting on scooters,
others standing,
schmoozing, joking, laughing.
Dinner is the social hour
in senior living food
a common subject
conversation not momentous
who won at cards family
medications the weather
A murmur and peaceful
burble of many voices until
suddenly a high-pitched wail
an ambulance yellow lights aflash
rounds the corner and
stops.
Blue jackets rolling bed
medical kits EMTs quick-step
toward the elevator
return someone is lying flat
people crane their necks
which friend had this bad luck?
Did someone fall again?
have a heart attack?
but maybe
it’s nothing serious
they’ll be back tomorrow
(thinking it could be me)
In senior living
people go to the hospital
stay a while come back
or not
friends leave for assisted living
become forgetful
move to memory care.
We live with the impermanence
of the permanence of our reality
we grieve for lost friends,
but we keep on loving caring
living every day to the fullest
because we all travel the same road.
He flipped the delicate Lotus Flower from one palm into the other
Wondering about a world of meaning for petals in transitory circles
Painted a moon and sun giving birth to all life and death just the same
One hand cannot clap on its own and he firmly gave thanks to nature
A long war had left him intact and the red petals painted over blood
He preferred the Buddha’s gentle plants over grave yard poppies
Although even a soldiers’ grief erodes over spaces of impermanence
When autumn fell upon prayer and crimson hope of togetherness
He dried his sorrows and awaited the wind to blow away sad tears
Settled in memories of harvest and lit a lantern made from parchment
As seeds succumbed to hibernation he tightened his ruby loin cloth
For it was winter and a snow storm loomed behind magical mountains
Clouds gathered at the edge of a hillside where he sought shelter and peace
Safe in a cradle of comfort and finite belonging he tasted the new season
And held the picturesque flower in his mind to weather its benevolent change
29th October 2019
Writing Challenge, October, 2019 - Flower or Flowers -
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
("Morphogenesis Merit Badge" - MB #37, 2011, original oil)
A Good Day to Die
(for Bill – 07/10/1925-10/14/2023)
Another day dawns
To the recognition
It is both the beginning of
The rest of your life
And as good a day as any
To die.
Before the sun sets today
You, me, us could all
Beat it to it.
And when we set
Where do we go?
Such questions lead to
Unknowable answers.
It’s easy to apply for solace
The analogy of a planet spinning
In orbit around its central star
In the sense of cycles cycling
Into eternity…
But we all know such crude analogies
Miss the mark of reality.
Even the grandest universe
Has an expiration date.
And so it goes,
Each day
A new beginning
Each day
A good day to die
Each day
Just another day to go
Into the mystery.
But no matter what
Whether sooner or later
There is still the chance
To seize the day
Stand tall
Even if
All you can do
Is lay down
And bring a little joy
To this world
And those around
(10/14/23