Humility, a prized gift, a quiet poise, a fond grace,
Peace, quietude and happiness bloom under its soft shade,
Not a stamp of softness or weakness, but a mark of silent strength.
The tall tree, towering to the sky, sheltering birds quite freely,
Stands so sturdy, but bends to the strong wind and rain torrents,
Nature`s clear and vibrant paradigm of humility.
The noble river, a silver thread, nourishing where it is led,
Journeys through slithering paths to merge with the wide ocean,
But never complains of losing its own identity.
The vast ocean, a huge mystery, deep, where secrets hide,
Through storms and calm, it keeps its place, holds the world in its sway
Provides food and fortune to men, but do not ask for anything.
Selfless and quiet teachers all around, on earth and underground,
They reveal the essence of humility at all times,
The need to have a gentle heart, be a humble player.
(Sijo 1 – Pattern: 14 / 14 / 16)
1. In the quiet hours of fear, I whisper prayers I cannot voice (14)
2. Shadows gather at the edges, testing the thin walls of my faith (14)
3. Yet a small spark rises within, insisting even trembling hope still counts (16)
(Sijo 2 – Pattern: 16 / 14 / 14)
4. My heart wages hidden battles, torn between surrender and belief (16)
5. Every doubt circles like a wolf, seeking a weakness in my spirit (14)
6. But courage stands guard, steady, guarding the threshold of my mind (14)
(Sijo 3 – Pattern: 14 / 16 / 14)
7. I walk the valley of silence, waiting for answers to descend (14)
8. Faith does not always thunder sometimes it arrives as a breath, a hush (16)
9. And in that hush I rise again, learning that strength begins small (14)
(Sijo 4 – Pattern: 14 / 14 / 16)
10. When despair claws at my ribs, I lift my face to morning light (14)
11. Though the night left wounds behind, dawn stitches them with gentleness (14)
12. And I stand new, knowing faith survives every storm that tries to drown it (16)
poverty's sharp edges cut off the grey beggar tonight.
monsoon rains overpoured, becoming grave floods, sweeping him
from the bridge, where he had often trolled with a fair measure of hope.
between coal-coloured stalactite teeth, his gross breath, wan mouth,
an endangered smile, oily eyes, raisin skin, copper hair;
loose, smutty digits outstretched for some particular solution—
change to spare, a bottle of coke, a hot dog, a lead pipe.
living phantom rattled young children, disquieted air
of the earth, his chamber and bath (ordinarily trivial)
to those beyond stones, cloth huts, the doldrums of the have-nots,
targets of practising mendicants—grateful for temu,
the credit card religions, pseudo-prada, black friday options
"A friend is God's way of making
sure we never walk alone."
Christmas Ornament message
_____________________________
Early each morning we gather for a long winter walk,
the birds still murmur dulcet in trees and falling snowflakes whisper;
but, we are warmly dressed, walking and chatting together.
The streets are hushed waiting, tranquil quiescent, and peaceful,
labyrinths serendipitous with lighted houses that sigh joy;
as the deep solitude and images wash over us.
We come to a park where trees are ice draped and shimmering,
the scene sparkles and twinkles, the ground like a pristine white carpet;
we walk in awe of God's phantasmal winter creation.
Our conversation is so joyfully comfortable,
we float from one subject to another with interest and warmth;
time forgotten our feet lead us on a journey unknown.
After three hours we close the walk with coffee close to home,
outside a tree with stained glass leaves is our view as we sip café;
God has left us a bit of autumn beauty to behold.
souls of innocence flourishing in the garden of a keeper
happily served with bowls of cacao and ambrosia of ether
guarded by the coracle of invisibility
She was pretty, but did she have a personality?
She was a sweetie, but can she even write poetry?
She was yours, but she wasn't as honest and as real as me.
Born of Autumn, hair like wheat, honeymoon babe - right on time.
Mom and Dad underneath the limbo pole - winners-on-high.
In descending gondola, my birth had no notion of lovers.
Sparkle of snowflakes against window pane; my reflection.
A copper penny tossed in air; will it freeze, or will bus steal show?
The scent of snow; the kick of flakes; I’m racing my shadow.
Honeysuckle ascent and bees are buzzing; sometimes annoying.
The stingers you want - paired up; besides, I’m a wallflower.
“I remember you,” a confession at a reunion.
Becoming a dark-brunette; in the heat, the length shortened.
Summer fun seventy-seven; Sun In yields red highlights.
Sooner than later a sailor will find seasons of Aloha.
Oh Sweet Ganesha riding on an adorable mouse,
Please let me and my love who is my soon or later to-be spouse
Miraculously have jobs and money enough to buy a house.
It’s a long and arduous walk; I walked and walked
the sun followed along on top, and it’s smoldering hot,
All I wanted was the cool shady tree and a Coco-Cola.
I wished an easy life, a demure wife, a paramour
with a touch of class, some semblance of humor and finesse,
but life turned out to be harsh, wife doltish, and but a fantasy.
Ensnared, entangled—to escape life is to embrace death,
As I say, like a drowning man gasping for his last breath.
O Death, pray be kind to me and set this weary wayfarer free.
Afterlife or not, let us keep this delusion alive
let me also be entertained by the celestial nymphs
indulge myself in nectar and ambrosia, milk, honey and wine.
In the noon hour, the sun parts away every single cloud
As I walk with my mind for once finally not so loud.
Like the bright light of the sun, my soul shines through cloudiest sky's shroud.
For you, I can't even think of a thousand promises.
But I promise you this: my love for you shall not ever decrease.
One reason is you helped me learn how to put my mind more at ease.
Some people say sorry because they don't know what to say.
Some people say sorry because they want to have their way.
I tend to do both, but we are only humans, so it's okay.
I am not so-called religious , but sure to be righteous,
Always trying to take right move at every step of my journey.
Righteousness is real pivot of my life to honour .
Whenever any hindrance embowers or blocks my path
I analyse in rational way how to get rid of problem ,
I venture always keeping keen eye pointing righteousness.
I can neither compromise nor forgive obvious crime.
My sense of righteousness always guides me to act ruthless.
Noble kindness fails to deviate me from my strict decision.
My confidence is always associated with righteousness.
To act righteous, courage is the most important factor.
My strict moral principle is the base of righteousness.
}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{•}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{
Where are you hidden, sweet boy, in my long,
dark corridors?
You're here, for 'tis your soft warm light in our
garden that grows, still.
Come embrace me, let us speak, an' together
let us now walk in step.
Spring waltzes in with rosebud cheeks and swaying with a breeze.
She summons Sun and Rain to do her bidding; grace blossoms,
but she can’t compete with Summer’s sultriness; thus she takes her leave.
Summer spiritedly takes the stage as she tangos in with Sun.
As their passion scorches the ground on which they dance, storms may come,
cooling Summer off, but she leaves once Autumn sashays in.
Autumn is a playful sprite, brightening leaves for a while
and twirl-flirting with Wind as the days grow ever cooler.
Romantic at sundown, she slow-dances with shadows that lengthen.
Fall's sister, not as romantic, moves in a courtly way.
Winter enters Earth’s ballroom sometimes frigidly, yet can show grace
when she lets loose a white gown that glistens beneath Moon’s glow.
(Checked by Syllablecounter.net)
Specific Types of Sijo Poems
Read wonderful sijo poetry on the following sub-topics:
art, animals, christmas, death, family, flowers, food, friendship, funny, kids, life, love, music, nature, nursery, parents, school, spring, sports, war, winter
and more.
Definition | What is Sijo in Poetry?