mystical poetry thread

[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 26, 2014 by T.S

[Captain Mar-Vell]

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Great work, TS.

 

You ought to do a blog or something!

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[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 26, 2014 by T.S

[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 26, 2014 by T.S

[Captain Mar-Vell]

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More inspiration!

 

More poems!

 

See sig link below!

 

If you want to!

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[9th]

and then upon the hour, when closed in by nights spent

amongst the dusty towers, in highness of lofty clouds

billowing incense rolls across cobbled stones

while crystalline swirling sands, crested by visions of sphinxes

hold the swiftness of a guardian's beckoning breath

as it alights the windowsill

shedding a wandering course through branches below

and leading to gates of limitless expanse, across the fields of time

as matters at hand shine through the moment of truth

in the untold rhyme of reason where consequences are laid bare

to become passionately seized by inspirations to move about

writhing together like lovers, forever entwined in blissful embrace

as the heart of creation pulsates

with the beginning and ending of all alignments, in the name

of heaven and earth truly resolved, of the unspeakable word

[GreytoWhite]

The Piper and the Swordsman

by Matt Parsons

 

Forgive the plaintive songs
This reed sings what it knows best
There was little sweetness in its bed
It was plucked green

The cane dried and yellowed
Cut down to size and drilled
Holes along its body
For the air to pass, creating
Melody, harmony, music

The remainder of the reed
Split and bound
Wrapped in cloth and leather
The two halves sing for each other

One sings its sweet tune. longing
The other has no voice
Whenever it is swung the air passes
It hears its other half
Cries in its quiet way
Whooosh, crack!

One day the two halves reunited
The flute was being played as usual
Its master begging in his tattered robe
The other carried by a traveling swordsman
Looking upon the flautist the fighter frowned

He said, "The song you play hurts me deeply
I cannot stand to hear it any longer.
It is too much for me to bear, my heart
Longing to leap from my chest."

The musician looked upon the fighter
His response, "Blowing air through this
Sad, abused reed is what I need.
The joy in my heart is not apparent
As I expel sadness from my lips.
Leave me now, I have played here for years."

With a lightning quickness
The swordsman lashed out
Cane whooshing, then CRACK!
The flute's sad music ended
Each half having met, both broke

The piper looked up, stricken
Flute smashed, so was the practice weapon
Seeing the swordsman's face
Crying over his broken stick
The musician laughed and rose
Walking calmly he bid the man,
"Peace unto you my brother."

[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 26, 2014 by T.S

[doc benway]

Share other peoples poetry or your own , words that move and reach to the previously inaccesable places within . Words that polish and remove rust .

 

In honor of Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche:

 

Within anger, I seek stillness

Within confusion, I seek silence

Within pain, I seek spaciousness.

Allowing all, rejecting nothing

I rest in the warmth of clear presence.

[zerostao]

[Charles Crawford III]

This story does not rhyme like your other poems, but it is my favorite lesson.

 

There was once an Emperor who had no children and needed to choose a successor. Thousands of children from across the kingdom were invited to the palace and were surprised when the Emperor exclaimed that he was going to choose one of them. He gave them all a seed. They were to go home to their villages, plant the seed in a pot and tend it for a year. When they return in a year, the Emperor would judge their efforts and choose his successor. There was a boy named Ling who received his seed and returned to his village. He chose a pot and put some soil into it. Ling watered his pot every day. Once a week, the children of the village would get together to compare their plants. After a few weeks, there were signs of life in all but Ling’s pot. The weeks passed and Ling continued to water his pot every day. After a few months, the pots really came to life. Some had trees starting to grow, some had flowers and some had leafy shrubs. Poor old Ling still had nothing growing in his pot, and the other children made fun of him. Ling continued to water his pot every day. A year passed and it was time to return to the palace to show what had grown and decide on the new heir. Ling was anxious as his pot still showed no signs of life. “What if they punish me? They won't know that I've watered it every day, they’ll think that I'm lazy.” Ling and the other children entered the palace gates. By now, some of the plants were looking magnificent and the children were wondering which one the Emperor would choose. Ling was embarrassed as other children looked at his lifeless pot and scoffed. The Emperor came out and started to make his way through the crowd, looking at the many impressive trees, shrubs and flowers that were on display. The boys all puffed their chests out and tried to look as impressive as possible, hoping that they would be chosen as the heir to the empire. Then the Emperor came to Ling. He looked at the pot then he looked at Ling. “What happened here?” He asked. “I watered the pot every day, but nothing ever grew.” Ling muttered nervously. The Emperor looked away from Ling and moved on. After a few hours, the Emperor finally finished his assessment. He stood in front of the children and congratulated them on their efforts. “Clearly, some of you desperately want to be Emperor and would do anything to make that happen, but there is one boy that I would like to point out as he has come to me with nothing. Ling, come here please.” “Oh no,” thought Ling. He slowly sauntered to the front of the group, holding his barren pot. The Emperor held up the pot for all to see and the other children laughed. Then the Emperor continued, “A year ago, I gave you all a seed. I told you to go away, plant the seed and return with your plant. The seeds that I gave you all were boiled until they were no longer viable and wouldn’t grow, but I see before me thousands of plants and only one barren pot. Integrity and courage are more important values for leadership than proud displays, so Ling here will be my heir.”

[ThisLife]

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After reading that last inspiring story I felt I simply had to contribute my own two favourite Zen tales:

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{1}

 

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One of the guilty pleasures at a Zen Monastery was listening to a Master's dying haiku. For years these would be retold, compared and discussed. As he was nearing death one of the oldest and most esteemed monks, Banqui, was asked, “What are your final words?” He replied, "I am afraid to die",… and immediately passed away.

This disturbed the younger monks considerably. One asked a master "If Master Banqui was enlightened how could he give such an answer?"

The master replied, "Banqui was indeed enlightened. Above all Zen is honest"

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{2}

 

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An old, much revered Zen roshi lay dying, surrounded by loving disciples.

“Roshi, can I ask one last question please! What is life?”

“Life...is like a river...”

“What do you mean by that, Roshi?!?”

“OK,.... it is not like a river.”

And he died.

 

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Edited January 19, 2014 by ThisLife

[ThisLife]

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As much as I've always found the message wrapped within those two stories to be absolutely intriguing,.... it would nevertheless feel 'imbalanced' if I left only those accounts without also including a genuine Death Poem. For my tastes, the following poem is the most poignant I think I've ever come across :

 

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Empty handed I entered the world.

 

Barefoot I leave it.

 

My coming, my going –

 

Two simple happenings

 

That got entangled.

 

 

Kozan Ichikyo, Death Poem

1583 - 1660

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Edited January 19, 2014 by ThisLife

[skydog]

pretty strawbberries are green

words are green too

words

are green

tooo

Edited January 22, 2014 by skydog

[ThisLife]

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Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Blah blah blah,
Let's shag.

Edited January 22, 2014 by ThisLife

[Captain Mar-Vell]

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Ha ha ha!

 

I gotta say, that made me laugh.

 

Good line for a Valentine's card.

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[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 31, 2014 by Unseen_Abilities

[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 26, 2014 by T.S

[skydog]

Good Peyote they have in Mexico, huh?

lol, I wrote some stuff that was too much, so I went over it with gibberish, but i like gibberish, might try peyote again sometime...who knows

[skydog]

I am the lion

and the lion fucking roars

The lion has seen pain

The lion has suffered immensely

The lion will change the world

I dont give a fuck

If you dont believe in me

go fuck yourself

[ThisLife]

I think it may still be a little early yet to consider giving up your job to pursue a career in mystical poetry.

Edited January 26, 2014 by ThisLife

[skydog]

I think it may still be a little early yet to consider giving up your job to follow a career in poetry.

 

Im not making poems

 

Please do not respond to me again thank you

[Unseen_Abilities]

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Edited January 31, 2014 by Unseen_Abilities

[ThisLife]

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Tiger got to hunt,

 

Bird, he got to fly;

 

Man he got to sit and wonder,

 

“Why, why, why?”

 

Tiger got to sleep,

 

Bird, he got to land;

 

Man he got to tell himself

 

He understand.

Kurt Vonnegut

Edited January 26, 2014 by ThisLife

[skydog]

lion must shout his mouth

Edited January 26, 2014 by skydog