Transience Poems

Grains of Sand

        Grains of Sand

Waves lapping on shore
Caress the sands on the beach
Foam dances and swirls~
A rhythmic, calming presence
Nature`s powerful embrace

Footprints fade swiftly
Swept by ocean`s web and flow
Sands regain the sea~
Life`s transience we reckon
As prints on sands washed by waves

Huge heaps of sand dunes
Blown by the wild woeful winds
Are

On Transience

Everything is useless in terms of awareness
Of the inevitable transience of what was us
No valuable compensation for this mess 
But just illusions with naivety of trust
They are so easy to be thoroughly despised 
That maybe it’s a hint at something more
Which cannot be revealed or fully realized 
As if we lived before and afterwards it

Wisdom

The bloom starts no repentance,
it is not afraid of the slip just yet.
each gentle wind is a sigh from the sky.
be scented now, then learn to die.
It is the fleeting we become.
in how we glow before we've gone.

A Minor Act of Weather

Now and then, quietly without notice,
Time adjusts its spectacles—
Peers through a fogged pane of recall
Where particulars, once urgent, dissolve.

If now and then you find rain in your heart,
be assured it is scheduled—
a punctual drizzle of consequence,
not passion, but the persistence of memory
in its bureaucratic overcoat.

It’s all because of you,
the file states plainly:
signed in duplicate, sealed

Transience

Everything is temporary. Maybe it's not even real...
Life, this life...
I think you know, we have already been here.
Post-apocalyptic existence.
Utopian dreams.
Uncertainty at the surface,
the shift in between.
Contemplation and choice.
Birth.
Life.
Death.
They are all one and the same,
sharing the same knife,
to carve out the same name.

Water

p u l s e s

      diastolic   
                  systolic   
                   

Half-life of old friends

Mom writes polemics, when a cause grasps her heart
She's a good soul and wants to do her part
A journal took one, so she emailed it to friends
Then found that old age had brought many to their ends
  
Sometimes children answer back, or maybe a weary wife  
They thank her kindly, talk about the

As The Last Petal Falls

I recline with my cherry tree musings…

a fount of blossoms rise
and curve up from the ground 
up into a heaven-and-cloud scene  
to spread in splendor  a festoon of blooms 
like cumulus-puffs plucked from above
placed in tufts to fluff graceful branches 
plush with clusters the pink of an ingenue’s 
blush captured within her maiden

Ephemeral Drift

Version #1

Petals float down like dreams,
landing gently on the ground,
vanishing before we rise.

Version #2

Petals descend like whispers,
landing quietly on the earth,
lost before we open our eyes.

Short-Lived

In the quiet of early morning,
a dewdrop clings to the edge of a leaf,
a fragile globe reflecting the first light.
It trembles, a breath away from falling,
a brief testament to the night's embrace.

So too, our joys, gathered like rain
in the cups of our hands,
slipping through fingers no matter how tightly closed.
The laughter of children fades into

Love Is But Like Autumn

And that love is but like Autumn
Death in guise of colors awesome!
But I saw  her drawing guarded,
Flying with love I more wanted.

Doomed were the promises of eternity
And that love is but like Autumn
Failed I to see the imminent,
Love like leaves is cursed to stray.

I am still holding onto you
Though the leaves told that I

Passing On

Another old friend has passed on,
May he rest whereever he's gone.
Once you're a year above eighty
thoughts of life's transience are weighty.
but here were good times to think upon.

Old friends, I'll see you anon.

Wind Is Pounding In My Heart

'wind is pounding in my heart'

It tears across the steppes and plain, it guides my mind and eases pain
Whithin the yurt, upon the road, it whets my mind; eases the loads
I've rode it's Breast ten thousand times,' with banner high the yak tails nine
Its of my blood, throughout my race, we hold it near'in flood;

Transience

Do you ever think about how fast your life goes by,
we do the same things all day,
experiencing the same people, the same places, and the same problems
and there are more and more problems and you feel like you're drowning?
These problems are permanent and cannot be solved.
Have you ever had to put up with the loss

This World of Dew

THIS WORLD OF DEW

This world? 
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last? 
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dewdrops beading grass-blades
die before dawn;
may an untimely wind not hasten their departure!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This world of dew
is a

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