A small collection of water colour pieces, my second favourite medium 😊
Knowing so little, sharing too much, proud of nothing, for it’s never enough.
Tag: nature
Categories
Late October
I love hearing the trees talk
sometimes the high branches speak
and the low branches listen
sometimes the east whispers to the west which gives silence in response
sometimes they all chatter at once
I lie in the sun, watching, listening
I dread the coming winter’s quiet
absent leafy voices,
instead violent creaks
disturb the silence, as do
small explosions,
breaking branches, piercing snow
crunching, snapping
deadened, hollowed,
muffled, no water flows
I wish that it would not come soon
but winter’s here in just one moon
Categories
Sensational Assault
shining jewel clusters
break open the escarpment
like precious stones waiting to be mined
brilliant leafy treasure
blasts of magnificent colour
explode across the rocky grandstand
backdrop to the season’s splendor
its once generous green given way
to greedy autumn’s foliage display
absent emeralds
stolen by nature’s alchemy
redeemed for rubies, garnets
amber, gold
the greatest illusion
of tempered grandeur
before the bitter cold
it should be forbidden
that beauty unfolds
so lithely in loveliness
before its death
dappled luster’s ugliness
only revealed up close
moths have chewed endlessly
leafy veins, now begging bowls
blackened edges encase
slug-gobbled holes
not unlike the singed suffering
of cigarette-burned abuse
maple’s steepled points
waxed and dried
crunchy now upon crisp earth
hard to understand its worth
its place in time,
once life, once food
now dead, now dearth
and oh the scents! I cannot forget
the dampened clay and rotting fern
sickly sweet suckles long dried up
a sun-baked bog with willowed dregs
the sunflowered smells twist into sound
scritch-scratching of squirrel toes in trees
chipmunks squeak, thin branches break
acorns land in leaves
a buzz of daubers, wasps and bees
harmonized with the last cicada song
too soon the symphony will cease
and tarsi tickles won’t be found
not for so long! so if you please…
I beg for just a bit of time
to exhaust under this dying sun
that scalds with will to kill all life
that incinerates the weak and blind
leave me alone to work my mind
and feel the last blaze of the year
striving not to shed a tear
striving not to feel false fear
that knights permanence on temporary conditions
I will be strong and wise
and remain loving, kind
though winter has its eternal quality
once here, ne’er gone
still… it must go eventually
we’ll see…
just let me loaf in this season’s sun
to soak in such sensational torture –
intense, so brief, so fun –
ending soon,
hardly begun
Categories
a week before the fall
a slothful orb ascends,
slowly across the southern sky
already missing its peak
it shirks responsibility,
no longer a light above by nine a.m.
in the yard, clocked shadows hold morning’s chill
while, with a furnace blast, blazing warmth is cast
lethally, from an expiring sun’s face
what a time of year
one of dread and fascination
a reverse magic of the spring takes place
dishearteningly unbelievable
everything once vital and green
withers away, as flames to ash
full bushes decay under still-blue skies
crosshatched with chem trails
autumn’s appearance should sting less
with each year of expectation
but the knife travels the same scar,
ripping the tissue open once more
spilling the crinkle of leaves, isolated chirps
icy rainfall spurts
there can be no love in autumn
what — love for a dying thing?
we expect spring’s rebirth in its vein
but it’s different
inconceivably so
as nothing can come back the same
taking its time, different life does grow
I no longer delight in season’s change
a witness to illness arising
and constant pain
raw attachment, unhooked anew,
broken hearts where love once grew
I cannot bear to face the task
of reliving seasons, to watch them pass
as all things slip like time in glass
my cageless prison, this life, outlasts
free me before I plunge once more
through autumn’s orange enchanted door
cold aversion ripening
grasping at inherent things
I know it’s wrong, so little worse
than self-cherishing
my ugly curse
may I be free before the fall
— just one more week
to see it all
correctly
I considered using a plant metaphor
but I kill most plants
I don’t know anything about
growing leafy things
only recent experience in
how to keep something alive
but I imagine a tiny sprout
protruding from the ground
I clearly see this sprout
I look around
– no one else notices –
I wonder what kind of plant it’s going to be
this little shoot
I start to wish it will become
a wish-fulfilling tree
I know such trees exist, have existed
in this world, in other worlds
and though rare, difficult to find,
I know such saplings exist!
I cannot ask for anyone’s help,
because even if this plantlet
is to become this rare tree,
no one will identify it correctly —
it would be discarded! —
and I just have this really strong
feeling in my gut
that I have come across the growing sprout
of a wish-fulfilling tree!
I’m keen to protect it, and help it grow
but I’m really really good
at killing all things green –
they don’t need help, it’s cyclical –
and I really feel like I can’t talk
about this rare treasure
with anyone I’ve met,
because, let’s be real,
people are, like, really good
at murdering dreams
so I just wish to myself,
(pray)
please, please may I have found
a wish-fulfilling tree
please, please, help me nurture it
and please help me not kill it
I know I’m so so so good at killing
familiar with the action, as I’ve been
please, don’t let me become
attached to the idea of the tree
that somehow wish-fulfilment will grant me
happiness – I know it won’t!
I know it is my virtue – but still!
Think of all the good I could do,
granting all those wishes,
with wisdom of course
I would never abuse my power
I act with self-lessness
and still, I confess
I do not have even the wisdom to know
what kind of sprout I have found
or if I have found
anything at all
for I’m the only one who sees
this plant, so small
perhaps it is just a shadow
of desire that grows in the dirt
How can I know?
Categories
Part of it all: II
<2>
I sit still
what need for I of movement,
when it is all around?
water flows, ripples, pools
invisible evaporation
before my lazy eyes
I cannot see, so I do not know
although, given wisdom,
my knowledge grows
— is it in my heart?
— this long lost art?
of reading
nature , no partless part
so ignorant throughout my lives,
destined & pulled
to revisit the same
suffering
so close to feeling it end,
almost! against delusions defend
try again! after each failure
& I haven’t truly lost
one more try until I win
at my life’s cost
to be a part of it all
I see
an osprey kick a gull in the head
& catch a fish
this morning
emerge compassion
for attachment
killing
though thought rare sight
— such common poison!
emptiness
a play of light
arises before me
due to mind
it’s only mind
I must endure
just one more day —
time to love & time to play
I must endure this suffering
for I have caused it
that I see
these imprints strong
self-grasping me
like clouds appear
in a summer sky
seeming so blue
in my sense’s eye
and clouds so white
appear to dance
changing shape
and circumstance
with one another
scenes create
a turkey vulture roosts
while whales tempt fate
to swim so high
up in the sky
it almost makes me
question why
I feel that I can wait
to truly escape
this earthly suffering
finding no one here
who is happier than me
finding no couple who’s truly at peace
seeing no being that moves with ease
observing not one who can work together
without hatred, attachment, greed
should I give up? — No!
I’ll change my aspiration instead
I aspire to be truly happy, a pure example
& although I wish for another by my side
one who would face the changing tide,
I know in another I cannot seek
any joy or peace to be —
for it all must come from me
& although I strive to give & give
in humanness, I can’t let go
of my own unfulfilled hunny-do list —
this deluded partner, lazy, low —
by whose esteem I now accomplish
many of my deeds — instead of
saving for me, a pure aspiration
— enlightenment for all, equally
& although a man in measure
may grant me earthly pleasure
there’s not a time I can recall
unmixed with poison from the fall
an apple sweet, an apple tart
both eventually rot & fall apart
never singular, & still
each wish we’d like it to fulfill
the flavourful & wellness start
healthy gut, balanced, body art
this world is crazy, bizarre, insane —
& if I believe I can lay the blame
with anyone else,
I’ve already failed
so instead I vow to see, in each & every irony
a new teaching, a blessing, gift
in each disturbance, every rift
a chance to see things appear to fall apart
never once one thing
except in name
and with delusions I lay all blame
self-cherishing, self-grasped —
in dependence, same
I am so tired of samsara’s games
I quit
on to Enlightenment, charging forth
with Dharma’s wealth
I’m collecting merit for good health
for long, long years in which to help
all beings do the same
to happiness, I now lay claim
watching the gulls upon the bend
leaves me with these words to send
to you
thank you for your time,
and love, and coming to this place
may your mind be ever blessed
with peace & happiness
Categories
determination
I am only a witness,
transparent eye
a non judgemental mirror —
or at least a mirror who keeps
her judgments to herself
I am the nursery rhyme before it’s written,
the angel before the fall
the dream before the nightmare
the ring before the call
I hear the future coming,
still feel the distant past,
see outcomes from our actions
that for years & years will last
I weep for sad beginnings
I laugh at mad hellos
see insanity all around us
and suffering only grow
I am ready to escape this
ready to depart
ejecting all attachment
burning all my art
I have not one creation
of which I am proud
except those that come from virtue,
those soundless,
those I’ve vowed
I sow these seeds in silence
for my words have caused much pain
all contaminated actions
seemingly in vain
(* focus on intention *)
I hear the whistle blow,
a hundred miles from home
smell the fields of mountain thyme
growing round the purple heather
and still cannot decide
if to stay or go
until I walk the streets
see the suffering
hear the cries
smell the stink
feel the terror
taste the drink
then it all comes rushing back,
each and every pleasure,
that I’ve had it all before
— it’s time to think!
I cannot do this anymore!
I won’t!
So with reliance, offering, requesting,
my life I do lay down
only for something better
more meaningful, profound
with diligent, stable practice
(which, finally, I’ve found)
and compassionate, loving heart
I fall upon the Bodhisattva’s ground
I bow before the new moon,
and rising with the sun
try to take things lightly,
because all is mind and none is one
Categories
the space between
I look up to see
the space between
the spring’s bright leaves,
framing failing light
the eve’s chill falls
as the day’s warmth lifts
dew dances on the lawn
while my brook babbles on
as of late, my words betray
what my mind creates –
for with incorrect name
my suffering’s made
beneath me now
the earth is cold,
this rock is hard,
I’m feeling old
so many lifetimes,
all the same
wasted, wasted
all in vain —
now depend on heart-filled meaning,
mindfulness, do practice, pray
the power of delusions, cease!
and all bad habits, slay!
anew my happiness is born
here and now today
and with constant prayer & blessing
will never pass away
how lucky are these eyes
to behold periwinkle skies
how lucky are these toes
that walk where wild grows
how lucky are these hands
that touch the living earth
how lucky is the mind
appearing Bodhichitta birth
how lucky to be giving
to create the cause of wealth
how lucky I may nurture
to create the cause of health
how lucky to be kind
that I may create the cause of peace
how lucky to hold compassion
so all hatred, anger cease
how lucky to be patient
and know beauty will ensue
how lucky to be loving
and again feel love so true
Categories
un thrilling reflection
I am not a thrill seeker
I have already felt such falls
I no longer live on the edge
enjoying such close calls
I am not a party animal
I prefer my nights alone
passing by the cemeteries
imagining my gravestone
I do not appear a fun person
for my joy comes from within
and what I seek is simple
virtuous and absent sin
a place without people,
a cave of calm, a sea of silence
except birdsong, except the animals
here among the rotting leaves
just myself – grasped mistaken
moment by moment foregone
just letting go
un fun
un riled
un identified
less
self
less
un identified
un riled
un fun
just letting go
moment by moment foregone
just myself – grasped mistaken
here among the rotting leaves
except birdsong, except the animals
a cave of calm, a sea of silence
a place without people,
virtuous and absent sin
and what I seek is simple
for my joy comes from within
I do not appear a fun person
imagining my gravestone
passing by the cemeteries
I prefer my nights alone
I am not a party animal
enjoying such close calls
I no longer live on the edge
I have already felt such falls
I am not a thrill seeker
The Halfwit Writer 