Long Sense of touch Poems
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Something for long is signalling thee to slow down
O man. And be in touch with peace of thy within,
Reclaim thy real face, not what looks like a frown,
Try step aside a while to drown all needless din.
To enjoy soft caress kindled by kiss of time,
Tune to rhythm of soul, hear thy heart's soulful bin,
Which, enrich each what with their melodies sublime,
Relax and be in touch with thy true self serene.
Think, should ye rush through life many an unknown mile,
Just to arrive surrendering soul's precious bliss,
And stay a stranger still as if on thy own isle--
O like a warm-weather-seeking wading ibis!
Soul has no eyes to see nor ever nose to smell,
The sense of touch, of speech, nor has ears that can hear,
Tongue nor yet taste, it casts still what a lasting spell!
In touch with such a soul, do thou drive in slow gear.
In vain hurry O feel not too harried and lost,
Do take your due time to be forever present,
Atman art thou, not ego posing as the host,
Have tryst with thy life's every unwinding moment.
Know thou, life’s scarce that fleeting length ye stay alive,
The well of destiny is amply provided,
Life being depth to dive in, explore to arrive,
Ensuring, life's buckets are never shallow-fed.
From ocean of life, one draws what one’s vessel can,
Ye need thence to make sure it is filled to the brim,
That, every passing moment is lived full, O man,
Wake up, for long have ye lived a life of daydream.
_____________________________________
Alexandrine ode| 04.10.2007 | life, philosophy, silence
Fukuda Chiyo-ni Haiku Translations 4
The next seven autumn moon translations are dedicated to Stephen I. Hsu, who suggested the Chiyo-ni poems to me.
Keywords/Tags: autumn, moon, bright, walk, touch, nature, absence, angst, loneliness, solitude, understanding, distance, nearness
Bright autumnal moon,
but no matter how far I walked,
unreachable.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bright autumnal moon,
but no matter how far I walked,
distant beyond my grasp.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here, “grasp” in both the sense of touch and understanding.
Walking, walking
toward the bright autumn moon,
never the nearer.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I walk and walk
toward the autumn moon,
yet it remains distant.
—Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
"meigetsu ya": "bright moon" or "harvest moon"
"ittemo ittemo": "however far I walked," or "no matter how much I walk"
"yoso no sora": "distant sky," "unknown sky," or "another's sky"
***
The bright autumn moon
even for those we keenly miss
shines just as full.
The bright autumn moon
even for those far from us
shines just as full.
The bright autumn moon
even for those far from us
seems just as close.
meigetsu ya: "bright moon" or "harvest moon"
rusu no hito ni mo: "for those far away"
maru nagara: "while round" or perhaps "remains round/full"
Hammock's swing brings out the sun
half asleep I feel its warmth
sea breeze touches both my eyes
whispers dreams of distant lands.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Placement:4th;(September 2012)
By-Kash Poet
Contest-Hammock of sky in Tanaga
Sponsor:Nette Onclaud
5th August,2012
TANAGA:tanaga has four lines with seven syllables each, thus, 7.7.7.7…in its traditional form, all lines are rhymed at the end, although the modern form tends to be written in free verse...
for this contest, quill me a NEW, ORIGINAL tanaga on the theme ‘ HAMMOCK/S OF SKY’ in free verse (modern form, non-rhyming)… to add a little twist to this challenge, use the sense of touch in creating your piece...
The world of sight is when taken
Away, let of vision waken,
Let world of sound sharply shaken.
Way laid gets when my wander lust,
Let me hear time’s footsteps in dust,
Dawn’s birds wake me with song-filled burst.
Feel of colours behind eyelids,
Faithfull’s faith passed on prayer beads,
Let me see heart of golden deeds.
If flower colours get frozen
If world of butterflies has gone,
Fine, let me world of fragrance own.
If not, take all this away, much
As ye like, just keep sense of touch,
Let me feel the world just as such.
___________________________________
Musings |07.04.2022| Terza Rima
Poet’s note: As we know, glaucoma as a silent ailment takes away one’s vision gradually over passing years. First the peripheral vision gets narrower, ultimately to get reduced to a tunnel vision, and even that is lost one day. Of late I have been thinking of this eventuality in my life. But then the heart takes over from the head and says, never mind, there is that whole world beyond sight, a lot that we look at and still fail to see— the subject matter of this piece.
Skulls And Thorns
The darkness is cold.
Hold your hand and be bold.
Take me with you.
Sense of touch wherever you go.
From the grave to the sky.
Together, I feel alive.
You are beyond elegant.
Stand with you in darkness.
Watch the candle lights dance.
You are my match.
Light the sky on fire.
You're the one I desire.
You are mesmerizing.
Fly past the horizon.
A place with many dark shades.
Our shadows follow us on the way.
The night is ours.
I give you purple flowers.
We are creatures of the night.
Skulls and Thorns, a poem, live or die.
This is our path.
Strange love that will last.
We creep into the unknown.
Stand side by side facing the red sun.
Job 12:12English Standard Version (ESV) Bible Gateway
12 Wisdom is with the aged,
and understanding in length of days.
Much closer than like
Too far to push away
Yet never too far to share a loving heart
Much more than a friend
Much farther than the eye can see
Much closer than the sense of touch
Much more than a friend.
Elder than
the knowledge of young
Younger than the wisdom of time
A special word in the pages of our hearts
not so easily defined...
Likened onto one we know
Yet still one of a kind
One of which we share
much more than friendship
of deepest respects and love
as family and Kin
Much closer than like
Too far to push away
Yet never too far to share a loving heart
Much more than a friend
Dedicated to, Larraine B. Harris, Best Friend of My Late Grandmother, Frances B. North
You Are More Than A Friend. You Are, Auntie Larraine.
Happy 93rd Personal New Year
Form:
When everything about me still thrives,
And everything is a sight for sore eyes,
I'm thankful for my sense of SIGHT.
When noise abounds with the hearing of sounds,
because my eardrums are enough to Astone,
I'm grateful for my sense of HEARING.
When never taking for granted a savory taste,
And as Jesus said, let nothing go to waste,
I'm thankful for my sense of TASTE.
When my bride is baking with sweet working labor,
And overwhelming me with smells of succulent flavors,
I'm grateful for my sense of SMELL.
I bow my knees and heart when I feel that loving touch,
And when I realize that I have been blessed with so much,
I'm thankful for my sense of TOUCH.
082023PS
I have but one ambition in my life as to aspire, to be the one naked spark,
Igniting Dante's fire,
To dance within his eyes a flame, of heat and scalding passion, to have him spell bound
and Beguiled in any way I fashion,
Red lips of burning embers call, with scorching sense of touch, when will this man succumb
To me, I crave him just too much,
Dante's Inferno now alight, with fireworks and lava, pouring out-wards from his cave this
Could not get much hotter,
It happened quite unexpectedly, when at first I was inspired, to seek the heat of love's
embrace, by pursuing Dante's Fire.
Sweet Connection
There are many resting places
on the trail around the blue lake
that draw us in to sit and relax
at the beautiful park at Mohonk House.
Rough-hewn, weather-beaten benches,
hand-made with peaked roofs,
on high ledges with magnificent views,
comfort sore backs during hikes.
Etched on posts and seats,
are initials and names deeply carved.
My thoughts wander as I run my fingers
over them to caress the souls...
all those who left their mark
from recent days to dozens of years ago...
I bask in my felt, sweet connection
with them in this shared beauty.
Sandra M. Haight
~Honorable Mention~
Contest: The Park
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 02/20/2016
~1st Place~
Contest: Sense of Touch
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 09/06/2015
I ponder on Death as I grow older,
not with trepidation or phantom fears;
although Death's cowl is often soaked in tears.
I've reviewed the files in my mind's folder,
where ashes of an afterlife smolder:
God has gained more credence over the years.
I've lived my life in shades of black and white:
in death, I expect colors beyond this.
Yet, when Death takes me, there is much I'll miss,
like a sunny day and the moon at night,
sense of touch, smell, and especially sight:
but even more, the love behind a kiss.
Oblivion, Heaven, or damnation:
which fate awaits: anguish or elation?