Tag: nature

Poetry

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

Tags autumn, beauty, canada, canadian poet, Canadian poetry, cold, creative writing, ends, fall, leaves, nature, poem, Poetry, seasonal, seasonal depression, talking trees, winter

Poetry

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

Tags autumn, canadian author, Canadian poetry, changing seasons, creative writing, fall, forest, grasping, ignorance, nature, poem, Poetry, seasons, seasons change, senses, writing

Poetry

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

Tags attachment, autumn, creative writing, discrimination, emptiness, enlightenment, fall, feeling, freedom, grasping, ignorance, loss, nature, poem, Poetry, reality, realization, seasons, seasons change, time

Dreams Poetry questions

How can I know?

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?

Tags attachment, clairvoyance, creative writing, desire, desirous attachment, Dreams, freedom, gardening, green thumb, love, metaphor, nature, plant metaphor, plants, Poetry, prayer, questions, trees, wish, writing

Poetry

Part of it all: II

(continued from)

<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

Tags collective, creative writing, delusion, emptiness, existence, inherent, karma, nature, past lives, poem, Poetry, reality, virtue, water

Buddhism Dreams Poetry

osprey

Post author By K. Samways
Post date July 9, 2024
No Comments on osprey

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

Tags Buddhism, creative writing, delusional, delusions, emptiness, fishing, karma, love, nature, osprey, poem, Poetry, reality, virtue, wildlife

Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

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

Tags attachment, Buddhism, creative writing, emptiness, karma, love, nature, pleasure, poem, Poetry, reality, renunciation, samsara, transparent eye, witness, writing

Buddhism Philosophy Poetry

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

Tags blessings, bodhichitta, Buddhism, compassion, contemplation, creative writing, emptiness, happiness, karma, love, nature, poem, Poetry, reality, realization, sky, virtue, writing

Poetry

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

Tags calm, creative writing, happiness, joy, nature, party pooper, peace, poem, Poetry, seeking, self, solitary enjoyment, solitude, un fun

Poetry

Part of it all

<1>

I want to be
part of it all
not individual and alone
not an add-on, but integral
I want my purity to be yours
and I want to spark the virtue
in all minds, together
like water, taking shape

I want to see
the aggregate of aggregates
“I” am
I want to see the “I” differently
so I am not trickster-trapped
by selfish self-cherishing
grasping the most important “me”

I want to be
the cedar on the rock,
the bark on the trunk,
a drop of water in the earth
a molecule of worth
immeasurable yet meaningful
a part of it all

Tags collective, creative writing, emptiness, inherent existence, karma, nature, parts, poem, Poetry, purification, purity, reality, virtue, water