By Phan Tan Hai
Holding his alms bowl, the monk walks on,
his robe stitched from clouds across the sky;
we send him back to the mountain corner—
how many partings in a single life.
Standing, sitting—all for the people,
his chest still aching from blades once struck;
tears flooding the three realms,
Avalokitesvara embodied in his form.
A time he left, burdened with sorrow,
feet weary along both banks of the Ganges;
turning back, he awakened as Minh Trí,
his hair falling like dust along the road.
— For my friend Nguyen Cong Bang,
later a Theravada monk with the Dharma name Minh Tri.
I never noticed diamonds in the sky before;
so mindless, let such moments pass me by before.
I never glanced a passing smile upon a face
of utter loveliness; it made me cry before.
I never hearkened such sweet, honeyed voice, so fell
upon the siren spell of Lorelei before
I never felt the brush of lips against my own
that were as soft as wings of butterfly before.
I never gave away the key that would unlock
my to heart be a caravanserai before.
I never suffered dawns sharp, stabbing agony
of partings, sorrow pain that I could die before.
I never knew it possible to soar so high;
and why? For there was not a you and I before.
A voice speaks:
"Let's get this party started!"
Strange...we all know
that the party has been going on
for many lifetimes.
People enter and leave
promising, escaping, disappearing
returning. Bad pennies and
great expectations
mill and spoon in a party room.
The bash is a mash
where blood overpours
for the drunks.
Partings and sweet sorrows
are unwanted guest,
in a self-repeating tomorrow.
Couplings dance
cavorting's cling or collapse
in the heaviness of the out of breath.
The soiree is a crawl from dive to dive.
A rave
all the way to the grave
and then...
I will never be ready even though you signal your leaving
I foolishly keep the bright days since so much yet needs sharing
of long partings after our intense then rare meetings
of wild childhood stories and unfathomable blur future waiting
nowhere we could ever imagine even truly existing.
The beauty of the freely crystalized future has then come true
with your unchanging care and simple soul in skillful gesture of true blue.
You know I love you so much even in my silence
I know you’re now gone, but forever unforgotten,
Wishing you were here, silently cheer our encounters often
even if I know much of your pain and sometimes helplessness stands
in the face of bitter destiny, we all struggle to walk away, to just be gone.
But we can’t lie that time to bodily part will come anon, perhaps this afternoon breeze
just in time to forget our worries, but to thankfully remember our sweet memories
of how much I love you…
And I will always do
in the deep ocean of true blue.
(28 October 2022)
If I were immortal I’d wish to be
An Earth angel who sets those in chains free
I’d enter every evil person’s heart
Putting a stop to wars before they start.
If I were immortal no one would weep
I’d spread happiness whilst the broken sleep
I accept partings come in silent grief
And would affirm that grief is a relief.
I would aim to be a blessed precious lamb
Bringing joys to the brotherhood of man
Or a shepherdess with a magic crook
Keeping folk in order with just one look.
I’d see that birds were content in a tree
Chirping away happily constantly
That they’d soar o’er sky of infinite girth
Where nothing’s heard between Heaven and Earth.
I'd be a singer upon the world's stage
Singing songs heard from cradle to the grave
Songs of love they'd be and a comfort too
To all who'd find me worth listening to.
Melodies immortal the same as me
Forever in the book named history.
Not crossed off Santa's list yet,
but, at my age, realistically
my Christmas' on this earth left
are few;
feeling blessed, for having
shared, so many of them joyfully
with you – mostly all having
bright white lights...just a few with
centers sad partings tinted
blue –
The tree is up; lit, with angels
and manger in their blessed
places – awaiting all those celebratory
faces; especially the little ones,
Jesus has a special fondness,
knowing each by our given name,
loving each as much, but no two
the same – by Father individually
created –
preferring evermore now prayer
to lift, over any manufactured nor
worldly gift – for no finer treasure
given God's man than God's Son...the
greatest lottery for us selflessly
drawn and won!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh1m3vCCGdA
Black Princess of the night chin strapped to her violin
she plays the notes from her memorable heart of blue
while the moon in her sorrow spills light upon the Quin,
she plays on, a Stradivarius interlude of thin soulful Adieu;
Arrivederci (goodbye)
Donna (woman)
Ingannato (deceived)
even the stars weep under her spell as her raven changelings
scatter like black ashes to the wind
Five seasons of partings five degrees of loss, still no light
bursts forth from a soot sky of ebon black
lamentations and moans
heaven groans
from the weight of her sorrow comes the eye of the storm
as she plays her last note of deep unrest .
The Power of a Hug and Kiss
is great beyond belief!
They can be used, to congratulate,
they can comfort, when there’s grief!
Misery, woe, and sadness,
can be replaced with bliss.
Sorrowful times, can be less painful,
with a gentle hug and kiss!
Sometimes, for whatever reason,
partings, must be for quite awhile!
People will share, a parting hug and kiss,
that lasts, till they can reconcile!
Hugs, sometimes, are just a gesture,
like shaking hands with someone new!
But, kisses show much more feeling.
Which hugs, are rarely, apt to do!
At times, when one may feel intense
and they’re life seems all amiss,
it’s amazing, the relief they get,
from a gentle hug and kiss!
They are the flowers of affection
and at times of grief and pain,
the relief that they can offer,
is impossible to explain!
Though they work real well together,
which goes unsaid, it’s true,
sometimes, just a kiss or just a hug,
might be all one needs to do!
So, if someone is feeling low,
just remember this!
All they may be needing is,
a tender hug and kiss!
Sycamores certainly speak French, cypresses - ancient Greek, the Old Testament's olives are bilingual: they speak Hebrew and Aramaic. Birch is a Russian tree though growing in Canada. So small and frail (they wither abroad), already gone into a winter trance, she is silent but she is silent à la russe. That's how silent bears in dens are, that's how drunkards listen to the voice of the devils dissolved in their blood, that's how old believers pray, that's how a poet meditates on his faraway homeland and, finally, that's how silent my girlfriend was, accompanying me to the airport. What are we doing here, you and me, between fall and winter, at the crossroad of four Canadian corners?
a hush of partings
of pursed lips and lonely hearts…
we should go home birch
10.12.2019
December Or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
everything packed-
ready to go.
memories stay-
they fade slow.
tomorrow is somewhere
but where i don't know
partings a river
ceasing to flow
Hell-and-gone, my dreams are the bane of angels
Crimped with light, yet ceded to swim in shadows
Darkened wings that tremble with aching portent
Yesterday's heaven
I'm the fool that wandered the Van Gogh grasses
Just a jest, with love made there in the meadow
Callow flesh, thus burning for more than sunlight
Merging in madness
Bright and light, on toe-shoes a girl came dancing
How she twirled, with tempo to set my heartbeats
Dark desires through waterfalls and the moonlight
Joined at the marrow
Life did cleave us, bound to a course its choosing
Washed and swept by fates to a distant shoreline
Breaths and death left nothing to us but distance
Partings, unspoken
'Leave them gone', those angels now softly whisper
Broken dreams are nightmares so left unspoken
Turn your head to sight your eyes on the moment
Wisdom's sweet burgeon.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sapphic Stanza With A Jux" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
If an apple doesn't fall too far from its tree,
Wherefore, then, hath th fruits of my love fallen so far by me?
It took 25 years through th hankering sea,
& what felt like a million more to win th heart of thee.
If bittersweet are partings then why is it that me,
Yield all penchant for sweet things th moment you flee?
For fleeting was what th romance seemed to be,
Because th night apart was 10 years longer than our day of glee.
If th first love was loved in garden a great whilst ere me,
Then, trust, I was there: fervent and free,
Somewhere in Adam's fettle and pith;
I've traversed Eve's bosom & th cosmic sea-
I loved you, and I love you so endlessly.
Life is a scene of comings and partings.
We once to mighty love did come—oh, how
sweetly we came!
And long did we last like twinkles in the sky.
But now we part to different arms—oh, how
swiftly we do!
The sweet breath of a stranger has blown into
thine heart and there quenched the flame that
once kept our love warm.
‘Tis time to untwine our hearts and untwine
our tears
And to pray to grieving Heaven that to those
blazing arms that now beckon
We'll forever come and come and come and
never once part
Whilst we ride and love in the fields of eternity!
Why does the word “fate” exist?
Birth, encounters, partings,
Success and failure,
Fortune and misfortunes of life.
If our lives are already engraved into the stone by fate itself,
Then why are we even born if we can’t live them by our own ways?
There are those born into the wealthy families,
Those born of beautiful mothers.
Those unlucky ones born into the middle,
Of war or poverty.
If that’s all caused by fate,
God is incredibly cruel and unfair.
Why are people born?
If people are only born to suffer the hard life,
Is it meant as a punishment,
Or a cynical joke?
If there is really an existence worthy of being called “God,”
I want to ask him just one thing.
Is there really fate
In this lonely universe?
If a person like me were to ignore their fate, instinct and DNA,
To love another person……
Dear “God,”
Are they really human….?
Just wondering…………………
anxiety, care, corruption, creation, destiny, environment, rainforest,
CHERRY-PITS AND FOGGY AIR©
Miseries mount on high
If only I had that again
Too little too late too much
Life’s no bowl of cherries
And the rain fell hard today!
Skies sheathed in dust and smog
Pollutes the once green terrain below
The ‘fresh’ air demotes to shallower breaths
Intakes ‘tanked’ to partings of out rage
The taste of ‘bottled’ flavoured water rises
The ‘breaths’ of air when bottled will increase
And next it will be one costly ‘purification’ deed
For those left and known to mankind.
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