Pages
▼
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Friday, December 05, 2014
December the 5th
had you your body
I would have called to say
“Happy Birthday”
your ‘Thank you”
would have come
with the deepest of love.
But only bodies are born
and then die
you live on
a spirit gentle
a presence warm and tender
a smile guileless
in some place
where dates don’t matter
or even words
and when thoughts fall away
your presence comes as
a soft fragrance
a gentle footfall
a touch soothing
On this day
what can I do
but be present to your presence
be mindful
of your unconditional love
my heart brimming
with utmost gratitude
~~~
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Words - haiku
the page waits
the ink in the pen waits
to meet and make love
I, the matchmaker
the celebrant, the midwife
or just a witness
thus, words are born
and then set free like winged seeds
on a carefree wind
I, the matchmaker
the celebrant, the midwife
or just a witness
thus, words are born
and then set free like winged seeds
on a carefree wind
will they fall into
hearts made pure with silence
and bloom into joy?
~~~
~~~
Sunday, November 09, 2014
Come unto joy - haiku
come unto me
in this vale of birdsong
let us lose ourselves
let us lose ourselves
the body is but a shell
the ego a lie
the ego a lie
the mind has been making up
let us let go
let us let go
of the mind, put it down
succumb to stillness
succumb to stillness
in this vale of nothingness
come unto joy
~~~
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
Birds rise from trees - haiku
birds rise from trees
in a symphony of song
winged arias
birds rise from trees
a trembling twig waves farewell
till dusk we part
birds rise from trees
carrying bits of tree spirit
rooted and flying
~~~
Saturday, November 01, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
A letter in October
BY TED KOOSER
Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,
then see the light step out upon
the water, sowing reflections
to either side—a garden
of trees that grew as if by magic—
now see no more than my face,
mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,
startled by time. While I slept,
night in its thick winter jacket
bridled the doe with a twist
of wet leaves and led her away,
then brought its black horse with harness
that creaked like a cricket, and turned
the water garden under. I woke,
and at the waiting window found
the curtains open to my open face;
beyond me, darkness. And I,
who only wished to keep looking out,
must now keep looking in.
~~~
Wow!!! I mean, awesome!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Centrifugal
CENTRIFUGAL
by Douglas S. Jones
The spider living in the bike seat has finally spun
its own spokes through the wheels.
I have seen it crawl upside down, armored
black and jigging back to the hollow frame,
have felt the stickiness break
as the tire pulls free the stitches of last night's sewing.
We've ridden this bike together for a week now,
two legs in gyre by daylight, and at night,
the eight converting gears into looms, handle bars
into sails. This is how it is to be part of a cycle—
to be always in motion, and to be always
woven to something else.
~~~
Wednesday, October 01, 2014
a bird dives - haiku
a bird dives
wings scattering light
a worm dies
a worm dies
turns into bird wings flight
earth meets sky
earth meets sky
hurtling through a space field
a pulsing orb
a pulsing orb
that appears and disappears
nothingness
~~~
Friday, September 26, 2014
Thursday, September 25, 2014
An awesome way to make kids less self absorbed
We teach children how to measure and how to weigh. We fail to teach them how to revere, how to sense wonder and awe. --Harold Kushner
An awesome way to make kids less self absorbed
~~~
Sunday, September 21, 2014
World Gratitude Day
Today is World Gratitude Day and I wrote a post on my new blog dedicated to all things Earthy ...
Down to Earth Life
Note to myself : now I must keep up the posts :)
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Dances with trees - haiku
the wind scatters
leaf tunes, birdsong and moth wings
I dance with trees
~~~
Tuesday, September 09, 2014
Friday, September 05, 2014
Life and death
a moth crosses paths
with a roving
blackbird
life and death
A few thoughts I wanted to add to this haiku I
posted yesterday.
Sometime ago, I was in the beans patch and something, quick
as a flashing sword, flew past me, dived into the bean bushes and flew out.
Much to my surprise, it was a blackbird with a struggling moth in its beak. It
perched itself in the fence and proceeded to flick its head vigorously from
side to side, perhaps in an attempt to hasten the moth’s demise. I don’t exactly
know why it did this, but it seemed, to my human reasoning, that if it opened
its beak to gulp it down, the moth, sensing release, would fly away. Then, when
the moth stopped fluttering, it vanished down the bird’s throat in a series of
gulps.
I must admit to being disturbed by this drama of the moth’s
death. To gardeners, moths are important pollinators and are considered
beneficial. But that is human reasoning, flawed as always. After I wrote
the haiku, I looked at the scenario a bit more detachedly.
The moth died, but in death, did it not give life to the
bird? Because of its death, the bird continues to live. So, life itself hasn’t
ceased, it has just been transferred from one form to another. The cycle of
life didn’t break, it just kept going, the moth living on as the bird. It is
because of our human attachment to form and its apparent separateness that
death causes us so much grief.
The other human fallacy that I harboured was the
classification of ‘living’ and ‘non-living’ things. Science’s definition of
‘life’ is the ability to ingest, digest (as in food) and reproduce. By this
definition things like water and sunlight are ‘non-living’ things. But without
them, all life would cease to exist. We take in water (as part of out ingestion
and digestion) and a hefty percentage of us comprises water, and while it is in
us, it is considered ‘living’ but as soon as it exits our systems, it goes back
to ‘non-living’. A bit unfair, from water’s point of view :) Not that it cares...:(
You wouldn’t consider a piece of iron ‘living’ yet small
traces of iron is utterly essential to human life. The sand on the beach looks
‘non-living’, yet silicon in the human body contributes to health. So, could
science’s definition of ‘life’ be called accurate? Or, is such a classification
even necessary?
Life goes on seamlessly, with forms disappearing into one
another, elements getting in and out of systems. From this point of view, the
illusion of separation tends to get hazy. What emerges is the view that the whole
universe (living and non-living, seen and unseen) is a vast, seamless, unending
ocean of intelligence, in which waves arise, dimly seen as forms, they ride the
crest and dissolve back into the ocean. A moth wave rises and melds into a
bird wave. Human waves arise and dissolve. The whole is alive and is Life itself.
In this scheme of things, there is no death. There is only Life and it is
infinite.
And yes, we are that intelligence, not separate, but One. Briefly
self-aware, as we ride the human wave.
~~~
Thursday, September 04, 2014
Morning rituals – haiku
birds alight on trees
all wing and feather
and song
expectant air
on a pale peach sky
wings draw hieroglyphs
God’s words
a moth crosses paths
with a roving
blackbird
life and death
~~~
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
The unbearable urgency of life - haiku
words, weighted down
burdened with life's urgency
waiting to fly
maybe I should
jump out of life's speeding train
into nothingness
caught as I am in
this tale of my own making
like a moth
bedazzled by the
illusion of light and life
flying towards death
as silence waits,
still, underneath all things
warm and welcoming
~~~
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Dreamtime - haiku
scraps of desires
surface unbidden in sleep
beguiling
unwilling, blind
I walk through life’s dreamscape
wanting to waken
who is dreaming?
who is the watcher of dreams?
I and not I
~~~
Thursday, June 26, 2014
This being alive
This being alive
is a thing to celebrate
notice how
the heart marches
beat by pounding beat
regardless of
dusk or dawn
calm or storm
relentless
an unseen
unstopping soldier
notice how
the breath pulls us
stride by stride
inhale by exhale
a spectral charioteer
horses unseen
this carriage temporal
sometimes weary
sometimes strong
notice how
each heartbeat
is a milestone
a silent victory
exulting in us
every second
each breath a stitch
and stitch by stitch
a life is sewn
how can we not celebrate?
knowing that
bits of stars
abide in us
waiting to reveal
celestial light
knowing our home
this blue jewel
is hurtling through space
in the company of giants
nestled in a galaxy
this being alive
is a thing of pain
notice how
dreams shatter
life crumbles
people leave
and people die
you fail and fall again
but this you know
at your very core
you are unbreakable
how can we not celebrate
when life waits within
to express itself
as love, as light
as grace
sit still
feel the life force
the inexplicable joy
that waits beneath
for the blossoming
this being alive
is a rising up, a setting out
a triumph over ennui and death
a casting off of darkness
a revealing of light
~~~
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Poem of the Day : Rain
by Kazim Ali
With thick strokes of ink the sky fills with rain.
Pretending to run for cover but secretly praying for more rain.
Over the echo of the water, I hear a voice saying my name.
No one in the city moves under the quick sightless rain.
The pages of my notebook soak, then curl. I've written:
"Yogis opened their mouths for hours to drink the rain."
The sky is a bowl of dark water, rinsing your face.
The window trembles; liquid glass could shatter into rain.
I am a dark bowl, waiting to be filled.
If I open my mouth now, I could drown in the rain.
I hurry home as though someone is there waiting for me.
The night collapses into your skin. I am the rain.
~~~
Thursday, April 24, 2014
The show
(100-word flash fiction)
THE SHOW
The lead guitarist was missing and the crowd was getting
restive. Jerry, frantic, was about to improvise when there emerged an elderly
man carrying a guitar case. He slowly walked over to Steve’s place.
“Steve couldn’t come.” He quietly answered Jerry’s angry,
questioning glare. “I am his father. I’ve come to take his place. The show must
go on, shouldn’t it?”
That night the guitar sang of pride, childhood, loss and
triumph. It was spellbinding.
After they closed, Jerry invited Mr.Faulkner over for a
drink.
“What happened to Steve?”
Mr.Faulkner’s tired face crumpled.
“He had a heart attack. He’s gone.”
~~~
Written for the amazing group Friday
Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Poem of the Day : Earth Day
by JANE YOLEN
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
Each blade of grass,
Each honey tree,
Each bit of mud,
And stick and stone
Is blood and muscle,
Skin and bone.
And just as I
Need every bit
Of me to make
My body fit,
So Earth needs
Grass and stone and tree
And things that grow here
Naturally.
That's why we
Celebrate this day.
That's why across
The world we say:
As long as life,
As dear, as free,
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
~~~
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Monday, April 21, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Poem of the day : Christ Human
Descending Theology : Christ Human
BY MARY KARR
Such a short voyage for a god,
and you arrived in animal form so as not
to scorch us with your glory.
Your mask was an infant’s head on a limp stalk,
sticky eyes smeared blind,
limbs rendered useless in swaddle.
You came among beasts
as one, came into our care or its lack, came crying
as we all do, because the human frame
is a crucifix, each skeletos borne a lifetime.
Any wanting soul lain
prostrate on a floor to receive the poured sunlight
might—if still enough,
feel your cross buried in the flesh.
One has only to surrender,
you preached, open both arms to the inner,
the ever-present embrace,
which props one up, out reaches every grasp.
It’s in the form embedded,
love adamant as bone. The miracle is not just
you became us but also
those breathed-in moments allotted to us each
(even poor Brother Judas),
when one relinquishes self and will and want.
Then you're laid bare in us,
and for some briefly gentle eyeblink
we bloom and are you.
~~~
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Thursday, April 17, 2014
The spinster
(100-word flash fiction)
THE SPINSTER
She
finds the abandoned baby one dark evening in the bushes outside her
house. Her orphan, spinster heart overflowing with love she herself has
never known, pours it into his tiny life.
Like
a tidal wave, his ‘real’ parents crash land, accuse her of
‘kidnapping’, threaten to get her arrested, finally leave with him,
leaving her lost, broken and crumpled like a wasted ruin. She picks
herself up and plods on.
She
is late returning to an empty home from her retirement party. As she
pushes open the gate, a young man steps out of the shadows.
THE SPINSTER
1994
2004
2014
~~~
Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Monday, April 14, 2014
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Friday, April 11, 2014
Homecoming - Friday Fictioneers
(100 word flash fiction)
HOMECOMING
~~~
P.S. Wanted to write something positive this week after all the sad stories I’ve been writing :) but it seems it has come out rather flat :(
Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -
HOMECOMING
He stood alone on the dusty little railway platform. The
train, having sucked people into its metal belly, had rattled off. Where was
his father?
Disappointed, he climbed into the solitary taxi. It was
night when they reached his remote hamlet. When the driver stopped unexpectedly
in the village square, he began to protest.
Suddenly, the place burst into light. Festooned with dried
rice stalks, the square erupted with fireworks and the cheers of the entire
village. His father stood beaming and his mother rushed forward to embrace him.
He had returned after 10 years, the hamlet’s first qualified
doctor.
~~~
P.S. Wanted to write something positive this week after all the sad stories I’ve been writing :) but it seems it has come out rather flat :(
Written for the amazing group Friday Fictioneers led by Rochelle. For the photo prompt below -
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Wednesday, April 09, 2014
Tuesday, April 08, 2014
Monday, April 07, 2014
Sunday, April 06, 2014
Birthday present - haiku
we stopped the clocks
and slept for an extra hour
birthday present
~~~
the trees shake loose
their autumn leaves on me
birthday present
~~~
passing years
bestow hard won wisdom
birthday present
~~~
Saturday, April 05, 2014
Friday, April 04, 2014
Thursday, April 03, 2014
Lights! Camera! Action!
(100-word flash fiction in poem form)
Lights! Camera! Action!
How ardently she wished
to shut out those words
that followed her everywhere,
into the bath, into her dreams,
that pecked at her brain
like a cerebral woodpecker,
from age 3 to age 18
from child-star to super-star.
So, first she invited over
a deadly little virus,
it took with it her hearing
and most of her voice.
But she was too famous,
her mother too ambitious
the voices didn’t stop
the roles kept coming.
Then came the fall-
it cut up her face, broke
some bones, nothing
plastic surgery couldn’t fix
Finally, the fire did it…..
~~~
This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers, that amazing group led and prompted by Rochelle :) The prompt is the following image -

Lights! Camera! Action!
How ardently she wished
to shut out those words
that followed her everywhere,
into the bath, into her dreams,
that pecked at her brain
like a cerebral woodpecker,
from age 3 to age 18
from child-star to super-star.
So, first she invited over
a deadly little virus,
it took with it her hearing
and most of her voice.
But she was too famous,
her mother too ambitious
the voices didn’t stop
the roles kept coming.
Then came the fall-
it cut up her face, broke
some bones, nothing
plastic surgery couldn’t fix
Finally, the fire did it…..
~~~
This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers, that amazing group led and prompted by Rochelle :) The prompt is the following image -
Wednesday, April 02, 2014
Dawn - haiku
dawn
light breaks through night's curtain
peeping Tom
~~~
day breaks
night unfolds its embrace
a seedling sprouts
~~~
melting darkness
shows you that too much light
will hurt
~~~
Tuesday, April 01, 2014
April the 1st
I read somewhere
that time is a trick
not at all linear
or orderly
like soldiers would be
in a march-past,
but is rather like a sheaf
of pages piled up on top
of each other
our tomorrows stacked
on our yesterdays
like heavy burdens
of possibilities.
Today,
I dived into that buried pile,
assumedly accessible,
and surfaced on the page
of an yesteryear me,
all blush and innocence,
with a heart that had not yet
learned to distrust,
whose smile still seeped
into lucid eyes
and who is clueless
about how to shape
possibility into reality.
What do I tell
this past version of me?
I then wonder
of all the possible futures
I could have had
why I choose the page
I am now on
and if I had chosen differently
would I be in another sheaf?
or did I even have a choice?
Is it time that tricked me
or is it life?
I stand outside
and gaze at the stars
sliding slowly across the sky
and time trips me up again.
The light that I see
is not the star
but a mere memory of it,
the light that left it
so many light years ago,
by a trick of time
reaching me now,
a ghost, nothing else,
a faded celebrity,
a beautiful echo
that chose to fall
on today’s page.
And then,
everything shifts
and dissolves
like illusionary shadows.
Time is nothing but this moment
and life is happening nowhere
but in this moment.
And April the 1st
is just a label.
~~~
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Thursday, March 27, 2014
The trees
(100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers)
THE TREES
The trees have taken over the earth. The humans thought they were on top of the pyramid. But all it took was one storm. Unknotted by lightning, unrolled by thunder, and rain. Unrelenting rain. The humans got buried under their own debris. The earth had turned into water, a liquid tomb, which softly sucked at all that flesh.
When it stopped, there were worms everywhere. In eye sockets that once had dreamt dreams, chest cavities where had throbbed hearts, pelvises that had borne generations. The trees had eaten the rest.
Their trunks are now beginning to look like human limbs.
~~~
100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s. Written for the image prompt below.
THE TREES
The trees have taken over the earth. The humans thought they were on top of the pyramid. But all it took was one storm. Unknotted by lightning, unrolled by thunder, and rain. Unrelenting rain. The humans got buried under their own debris. The earth had turned into water, a liquid tomb, which softly sucked at all that flesh.
When it stopped, there were worms everywhere. In eye sockets that once had dreamt dreams, chest cavities where had throbbed hearts, pelvises that had borne generations. The trees had eaten the rest.
Their trunks are now beginning to look like human limbs.
~~~
100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s. Written for the image prompt below.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Poem of the day - Up on top
by Olav H. Hauge
After stumbling a long time over impossible trails
you are up on top.
Hardship didn't crush you, you trod it
down, climbed higher.
That's how you see it. After life has tossed you
away, and you ended up on top
like a one-legged wooden horse on a dump.
Life is merciful, it blinds and provides illusions,
and destiny takes on our burden:
foolishness and arrogance become mountains and marshy places,
hate and resentment become wounds from enemy arrows,
and the doubt always with us becomes cold dry
rocky valleys.
You go in the door.
The pot lies upside down in the hearth,
it sprawls with hostile black feet.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Wind - haiku
the flowers bend
the plants bend, the tree, alas!
gets uprooted
~~~
footprints tremble
up the surface of the lake
mischievous wind
~~~
gusts of memories
run amok in the present
devastation
~~~
russet, brown, orange
chase each other on the grass
autumn windfall
~~~
Friday, March 21, 2014
The latticed window
(100-word flash fiction)
THE LATTICED WINDOW
She stood on the road and looked up at the latticed window, seeing it for the first time from the outside, thinking how beautiful it looked.
She had found herself on the inside one bleak, moonless night, a child bride at 13, an elderly man’s fifth wife. 16 years of hell had followed.
She had been imprisoned in the house, not been allowed to step outside, not even when her father died.
That’s when she had decided to escape. The others were fellow prisoners, all married to the jail-keeper. He had to go.
All it had taken was a pillow.
~~~
100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s . Written for the image prompt below -
THE LATTICED WINDOW
She stood on the road and looked up at the latticed window, seeing it for the first time from the outside, thinking how beautiful it looked.
She had found herself on the inside one bleak, moonless night, a child bride at 13, an elderly man’s fifth wife. 16 years of hell had followed.
She had been imprisoned in the house, not been allowed to step outside, not even when her father died.
That’s when she had decided to escape. The others were fellow prisoners, all married to the jail-keeper. He had to go.
All it had taken was a pillow.
~~~
100-word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle’s . Written for the image prompt below -
Thursday, March 13, 2014
(100-word flash fiction)
No
As she walks over the wooden bridge, the planks creak. It
seems they are trying to say something, but she puts that thought aside, as she
recalls the time, when as a child she had dived into the deep end of the pool.
It had been so beautiful underwater, so quiet. She could have stayed there
forever. But they had pulled her out, made her breathe again.
This time she hopes no one finds her. That she can stay underwater
forever, having to breathe no more. When she realises with a start, the planks
are saying, “no, no, no ….”
~~~
Friday Fictioneers prompt by Rochelle. Write a 100-word flash fiction piece based on a photo.
Photo copyright - Adam Ickes