Poetry Please

[chingching]

Sweet Darkness

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.



When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.



Time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.



There you can be sure

you are not beyond love.



The dark will be your womb

tonight.



The night will give you a horizon

further than you can see.



You must learn one thing.

the world was made to be free in.



Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.



Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn



anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive



is too small for you.


David Whyte

 

[hilary]

The first time I came across that one, I copied it into my big hexagram notes doc under 29.

 

[chingching]

lyrics from The Well (Smog)


I could not work
So I threw a bottle into the woods
And then I felt bad
For the doe paw
And the rabbit paw
So I went looking for the pieces
Of the bottle that I threw
Because I couldn’t work

I went deep
Further than i could throw
And i came upon an old abandoned well
All boarded over
With a drip hanging from the bucket still

Well I watched that drip but it would not drop
I watched that drip but it would not drop
I knew what I had to do
Had to pull those boards off the well

When I got the boards off
I stared into the black black black
And you know I had to yell
Just to get my voice back

I guess everybody has their own thing
That they yell into a well

I gave it a coupla hoots
A hello
And a f*** all y’all

I guess everybody has their own thing
That they yell into a well

And as I stood like that
Staring into the black black black
I felt a cool wet kiss
On the back of my neck

Dang

I knew if I stood up
The drip would roll down my back
Into no man’s land

So I stayed like that
Staring into the black black black

Well they say black is all colours at once
So I gave it my red rage my yellow streak
The greenest parts of me
And my blues I knew just what I had to do

I had to turn around and go back
And let that drip roll down my back
And I felt so bad about that

But wouldn’t you know
When I turned to go
Another drip was forming
On the bottom of the bucket
And I felt so good about that

 

[chingching]

STRIPPING
Strip off the shoes and pantyhose,
the grown-up drag.* Undo those soft
white arms and their blond down,
moss made of light,
*
Wash away the sour working sweat,
fatigue of heels and fluorescent lights.
Unhook that tired bra, unclench the feet
with their worn-out travelogues, knees,
complaining in their bone cradles,
the drooling sex, and the shamed
belly, pouched like a stubborn mountain.
Release the years in a shower of moths shaken free
from an old sweater so full of holes
you can see through to the skin.
*
Strip off the skin.* Let it hang
over a chair the way it has hung
from your body lately, exhausted,
**confessing to years of experience.
*
Strip away experience, that false umbrella
blocking only the sun.
*
Strip your mind of these words, clods
of dirt kicked up by donkey mind, clouds
that will soon pass.* Let the clang of language die
in your mouth.* Let your overworked tongue
hang, innocent and dumb
as tomorrow morning.* No one owns it yet,
that paper mini-dress of time, meant
to be cast off after one wearing.
*
I want to strip.* It’s the jewel
at the center I seek; let me be oyster, hoarding pearl.
Let me be coal, sheltering diamond.
Though in my heart of hearts I am afraid
*
I may be onion, each white circle
*of stinky tears hiding another
exactly like it.* Or rose:
whose petals*are*her everything.
***********ALISON LUTERMAN

 

[londonremovals24]

Here is a part of poems that I made years ago

Come thee with me My long lost heirs;
As I explicate thine magnum opus.
Clench thy hands with eagle-eyed;
As I simplify each one to yee.
Whom I toil out of thine love;
Whom I preciously vigilance.

 

[mary f]

Ever felt like this?

POEM IN A STRAIGHT LINE

I never knew a soul who ever took a licking.
My friends have all been champions at everything.

And I, so often vulgar, so often obscene, so often vile,
I, so deliberately parasitical,
Unforgivably filthy,
I, so often without patience to take a bath,
I, who’ve been so ridiculous, so absurd,
Tripping up in public on the carpet of etiquette,
I, so grotesque and mean, submissive and insolent,
Who’ve been insulted and not said a word,
And when putting a word in growing still more ridiculous,
I who strike chambermaids as laugh able,
I who feel porters wink sarcastically,
I who’ve been scandalous about money, borrowing and not paying it back,
I, who when the time came to fight, ducked
As far as I could out of punching range,
I who go into a sweat over the slightest thing—
I’m convinced no one’s better than I at this sort of game.

No one I know, none of my speaking acquaintances,
Ever acted ridiculous, ever took insults,
Was ever anything but noble—yes, all of them princes, living their lives…
How I’d love to hear a human voice, from any one of them.
Confessing not sins, but to infamies,
Speaking not of violent but of cowardly acts!
But no, each one’s a Paragon, to hear them tell it.
Is there no one in this whole world who’d confess to me he’s been vile just once?
All you princes, my brothers,
Enough—I’m fed up with demigods!
Where are the real people in this world?
Am I the only scoundrel and bungler alive?
Maybe women don’t always fall for them.
Maybe they’ve been betrayed. But ridiculous? Never!
And I, who’ve been ridiculous but never betrayed,
How do I speak to their Highnesses without stammering?
I, who’ve been vile, literally vile,
Vile in the meanest and rottenest possible sense of the word.

FERNANDO PESSOA​

 

[svenrus]

The blue sky,
The grey sea,
A black creature,
which disappeared.

 

[chingching]

Love Pessoa , I feel like that all the time! I a small book of his poems, I remember the tobacconist.

 

[Trojina]

The night was dark and dreary
The old man crossed the street
His eyes were full of tears
His shoes were full of feet

 

[lecubiste]

A Poem for the I Ching

As the sequence of the hexagrams evolves,
The pairing of the forces changes.
At once yin and yang,
To the detriment of the Tong,
The mysterious coupling rearranges.

Good and evil, right and wrong,
Light and dark, firm and soft, love and discipline.
Though inclusive of all,
The oracular call
Cannot penetrate spiritual dissonance.

As such truth is only revealed
When the attitude of humility prevails.
When ambition is proud
And the ego is loud,
No pattern or formula entails.

Neil Sinclair
California

 

[svenrus]

Lecubiste,

This imidiately reminded me of what is stated in Ta Chuan (Dazhuan) in The Great Treatise, it's second part § 8 [Wilhelm/Baynes, Book II, The material, On the use of the book of changes: The lines, Ch. VIII, p. 348, 1968 ed.] except for this:
"....... 3. They also show care and sorrow and their causes.
Though you have no teacher,
Approach them as you would your parents......."
But especially what fits:
"...... 4. ........... But if you are not the right man,
The meaning will not manifest itself to you. "
... with Yours:
".....When ambition is proud
And the ego is loud,
No pattern or formula entails."

- a coincidense ?

 

[canislulu]

Here is a poem I like:

A Ritual To Read To Each Other

William Stafford


If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

 

[rodaki]

ah! ye hair-raising gods of timing . . :bows:

 

[rosada]

For Hexagram 10

Little Miss Mousie standing on a hill
Little Miss Mousie looking for a thrill
Spied Tubby Tom Cat coming up the path
Thought she'd give him a scare for a laugh.

She jumped to the left
She jumped to the right
She gave poor Tubby
A terrible fright.

Some may call her wrong
Some may call her right
Tubby called her "Lunch"
And ate her with one bite.

-Rosada

 

[sooo]

baby brother doesn't try
we just do
and it chills my elder brother to the bone
so he admits to

but in recent times only has he felt it
when he's reached his own rope's bitter end
and baby brother's intuition
he needed not raise his ego-shield to defend

baby kittens and tiny chicks
lost together
find their way
so shown my dream this new dawning day

not yet encountered the hostile world
yet a few had not survived
that's life they say

the old if not dead already
are closer to the end
against mortality
even they can not defend

who protects whom
when new and old are one
let the rose's petals fall upon both
the prayer and the prayed for
it is most of all
the prayer who is blessed

coyote

 

[canislulu]

sooo said

baby brother doesn't try
we just do

And baby brother can do
If baby brother does not cart corpses

7.5

 

[iams girl]

Sacred Flame,
dance.
Sacred Dance,
swirl.
Sacred Swirl,
join.​

 

[sooo]

And baby brother can do
If baby brother does not cart corpses

7.5

According to most interpretations, the elder brother should lead while the younger transports corpses.

It may be assumed that the elder has more experience, therefore will be less inclined to lead the troops impetuously. However, also true is "he who waits or hesitates is lost." The elder is given to longer memory of fatalities, which may lead to seeking vengeance or fear of advancing, rather than leading to victory. Also, being of higher rank, which he may lean too heavily upon, the elder may fail to consider newer and innovative approaches and technologies, which the younger brother may be more acquainted with. So, to stick too rigidly to formality of seniority and rank alone (to persevere in) may result in being outflanked by the enemy, suffering in defeat.

So, we agree that the younger brother should not always be relegated to carrying corpses, nor should it always be assumed that the elder brother should ignore the younger brother's strengths, such as his greater natural intuition, fearlessness, fresh tactics and knowledge of new technologies; hence the final statement: Then perseverance brings misfortune.

Just yesterday I experienced an example of this. My elder brother sent an image of his six daughters and one son, overseen by their mother, who divorced him and married her divorce lawyer. This made my brother so furious and jealous that he asked if I could Photoshop her out of the picture and send it back to him. I told him I couldn't (for technical reasons), but also that I wouldn't even if I could, siting that she is their mother after all. I too divorced my wife due to abuses, but never would I seek to eliminate her image from a group photo with our sons. He admitted to his old bitterness, but would not renege his request. Older does not always equate to superior leadership or decisions on behalf of the troops, and younger does not always mean less level-headed and incompetent of leadership.

 

[anemos]

along with relating hex , 29, older -younger brother can be seen as an analogy of our belief system and the new info we experience . Older brother tends to "protect" the coherency of self while the new info change the scenery or the world and challenge this believe system; can cause chaos and introduce instability in that system. The " game in the field" asks for a coherent and effective action and the General must decide who is going to do what for the game. 29 as existing belief system or a paradigm shift seems to need a wise decision and delegation of roles.

 

[sooo]

Funny, I was thinking of 29 as I was writing my last post, but hadn't noticed it was the relating hexagram. Instead, I was think of 29 as a younger brother, not the youngest, which is Ken, but younger than Chen. Young enough to be fearless, old enough to be true to his destiny or calling and his nature. Kan most often is associated with the Tao.

Funny to me too is that thunder was the sound of my brother's temperament yesterday, while mine was to flow along the lines of least resistance. I told him I wouldn't obey his order/wish, and why, but did not argue with him nor reprimand him, out of respect as being the eldest of our army. It's rather impossible to argue with thunder anyway.

 

[anemos]

the funny thing, to me is that i took a brake from the book Im reading and what you said in you earlier post was , in my eyes, similar to the reading. I almost asked you if you are reading the same book and currently are in those pages, lol.

I can see the flow of 29 too and line 7.5 , in some respects , talks about a fixity.

Young enough to be fearless, old enough to be true to his destiny or calling and his nature.

yup ! that is a new obsession of mine uch:: Kan and Li . somehow I see in both a catalyst that "break" the polarity

 

[moss elk]

Up lazily
without gravitational fear
free dreams wander in
their natural realm
not quite avoiding
but still
elusive to the leaping grasp of the struggler

~16 year old moss elk


Maybe it's about 11 or 15
I dunno

 

[Trojina]

Great stuff Moss Elk......do feel free to post anything you like on the newer writing thread here

http://www.onlineclarity.co.uk/friends/showthread.php?18044-Writing-Games-R-Us&p=185817#post185817


I love that you have posted the poem from your 16 year old self....well about 16

 

[Trojina]

How It Is with Us, and How It Is with Them

by Mary Oliver


We become religious,
then we turn from it,
then we are in need and maybe we turn back.
We turn to making money,
then we turn to the moral life,
then we think about money again.
We meet wonderful people, but lose them
in our busyness.
We're, as the saying goes, all over the place.
Steadfastness, it seems,
is more about dogs than about us.
One of the reasons we love them so much.




"How It Is with Us, and How It Is with Them" by Mary Oliver, from Dog Songs. © Penguin, 2013

 

[anemos]

I like her poems

 

[blue_angel]

For the love of today, we shall no longer pay the regrets of yesterday. -by Blue_Angel

She seen him there
Sitting across in a chair
Who was this guy
One day she may know

She thought in life, she was all set
Then their eyes met
What was to come
She never would've placed a bet

The room was dim
And so quiet, you could hear a pin

From his eyes to hers, energy of light
Began to flow with powerful might
surging like ocean water
If she stayed
she was afraid she would lose her sight

What were his thoughts
in these first moments
One day she may know
But at what cost
She was rather lost

Two weeks too soon
They came together under the full moon

What was this glow
starting to grow
Just yesterday they were feeling so low

But now in a moment of bliss
They shared a beautiful kiss

Oh how they danced
With such a smile
it seemed they passed, a mile
Leaving the trials of yesterday

But tomorrow is work
So we must seal this with a cork

He wished he could stay
In his arms she would lay
Until another bright shining day

Apart now, that energy still did not settle
It was as if, it had a mind of it's own
And the force began to meddle

Surging through her, forceful water
She began to teeter and totter
Forgetting what it is to be still
Had she lost her will
Infront of her a fog
He began to take image as a frog
Her words of fear, poured out in tears
They were both afraid to be struck
with a dart in the heart

She said "a horse likes to roam, to explore, to run, wild, and free. And a horse can be quite finicky"

He said "perhaps two horses can find each other, and explore and run together"

She wished her mind to settle
She should have warmed a tea kettle

She wished to flow through life with him
Now it seemed everything looked so dim
What must she do to find her balance within

She loved his heart
What must she do, so they will not part
shall we go back to the start

She wished and prayed "please let me enjoy these days, allow us to once again play"

Then she realized what she already knew wasn't the future that mattered
It is these moments
right here, right now

In time and with a little lime
Together they were two of a kind
In his arms she would find
Love in one big dose
Hearts so close
Safe, warm, and at home
You would think he was her clone

She had thought she lost him forever
Never knew love could be this clever

Its time for us to live
Give love, let go
Fly like the dove
with the wind we will flow

Ken, still as a mountain
Love pours in like a fountain

Two hearts reunite
With a bright light
All is set right

For two horse to run, have fun
And play in the sun

Across velvety meadows of green
Together they are a team

Under the blue sky
This love grows high

Whenever there's a mist
Take time
write your wish list

The world awaits
It's not all set in fate

We will have the time of our life
We have never felt this way before
We owe it all to each other

No more fears
letting go of yesterdays tears

They are ready, running steady
Together with him, she never stopped running

 

[anemos]

* heart*

 

[Trojina]

Good Grief, amazing, that's an Epic Blue Angel

Did it take you long ?

 

[Trojina]

Here is one I found in the Drs waiting room. They make booklets of poems and leave them there for people to take. A poem is a good thing to have to hand in a waiting room IMO.

'nobbut' is Yorkshire dialect for nothing or no one but.... For example 'nobbut me in the room' means there is 'no one in the room but me' A Yorkshire person may want to correct that






Nobbut God

'First on, there was nobbut God...'
Genesis 1.1 (Yorkshire Dialect Translation).



First on
There was silence.
And God said:

'Let there be clatter'.
The wind, unclenching,
Runs its thumbs
Along the dry bristles of Yorkshire Fog.

The mountain ousel
Oboes its one note.

After rain
Water lobelia
Drips like a tap
On the tarn's tight surface-tension.

But louder,
And every second nearer,
Like chain explosions
From farther nebulae
Light-yearing across space:
The thudding of my own blood.

'It's nobbut me,'
Says God.



From Seasons Of The Spirit by Norman Nicholson

 

[blue_angel]

Trojina, nice

It started flowing out of me. Maybe 15 minutes, I am not completely sure. I was on a break at work. My life has started taking turns rather fast. This year is so different than the last. Last night I thought about how you had said "poems can be like spells".


Shortly after I wrote the poem about my mom and conception, life with her and I has been... sort of like a miracle. Positive changes, lots ofhealing. More than I would've ever wished for. Small, steady, gradual progress. At times, if I didn't know better, its as though an angel speaks through her. We had a conversation one night. I was very down. I sat on my balcony looking at the mountain. Decided to contact her, which would normally not be wise. Mom was not usually logical, incapable of feeling empathy or giving support.


Yet, in this small moment, I contacted her and couldn't have gotten better advice if I would've
sat down with Lao Tzu himself. Here she was, the mother I so needed all through my years
as a small girl, as an adolescent, as a young woman. She had finally shown up. To give me support, to wipe my tears, to pick me up, when I was falling, and raise me up. She shined through me like light. Angelic light. I could feel the healing, I could feel the tarnished past washing away. My tears streamed. Even after I talked, I allowed myself to sit there with no thought, and cry for an hour or two. It was just as nourishing to my soul as rain is to the earth. Even the next day, I was stunned at this magical moment. I can not put into words the full extent of my feelings or the change that has occurred.


On the other token, my relationship ended with a man I loved, what I believe unconditionally, sometime around September or October. Very difficult, my heart all but crumbled. Yet, I was ready for the growth. To stay would be damage to my soul, which to me would be me betraying life and all of its gifts and blessings. I appreciate fully my 6 years with him, I learned so much, had some amazing times, and reached a whole new level of growth. Like a mile stone. The thought of him will remain a soft part in my heart.


However, recently I had found, to my astonishment and disbelief, another love. It seems to have left just as fast as it came. But mostly I am to blame. That last poem I wrote... the one we needed to end with "and she never stopped running" I wrote about a woman running from love that never stops. Yet, here I have been. That woman. Too afraid to feel what she feels and express it. To afraid to live fully in the beauty of this moment.

Were my poems spells? They just might be. If even they are not, would not hurt to write a positive poem of love from deep with in my soul. Perhaps our words hold more power than we realize when expressed out into the universe. And would my positive thoughts of love not reach and touch others? Giving someone else a light. A spark. A skip and jump. So today, on my break at work a poem was born.

This open space, boy it lifts me. It has a feel to it. Could be called "the angels corner" cause when I come here, I feel as though I am amongst angels. Great spirits. Sometimes when the day is so low, and tiring I've lost my voice. I come here just to read. Of course please don't misunderstand, I do recognize the blessings all around me. Its interesting this life. Some days. Beautiful miracles, others fury of hell, but mostly somewhere in the middle. Barely tipping left or a little more to the right.

Anemos, thank you *heart* back