My Zen (sort of) Poems

Bodhidharma

Hey. Here are some Zen poems i wrote the other night. There Zen in spirit, maybe not so much in practice. This is my first attempt but i really enjoyed writing them. I love Zen poetry so have a read.

Impermanence is constant,
Like the wind and sea,
Changing shape,
But remaining the one.

The core of our being lies in wait,
It has patience,
But not infinite time,
If we ignore it,
We become victims of the world's many distractions.

Time is not real.
I do not remember it when I was a star,
Or when I was a plant.
Why does it take precedence now,
While I am in my current form?
Perhaps it is to do with money.

Confusion allows you entry into a dark room,
But inside this room is a key,
Find it,
And you will never be blinded again.

The sky at night can seem dark and fearsome,
But why do we fear it?
Are we not looking at a mirror?

What does it matter the vessel,
When the spirit tastes so sweet?
Why do we take heed of the crowds,
When we know they are wrong?
Weakness is the inevitable result of accepting others doubts.

The air is crisp,
I am prepared,
My journey is short,
And I must proceed.
Hesitation is the seed
That grows in the weary.

I feel this night will never end,
But of course it will,
Like all the others,
It will vanish,
When I let my mind wander.


The fog in my mind will dissipate,
Like the dark clouds above,
with the morning sun,
comes relief from tiring thoughts.

I value love above enlightenment.
Is it better to focus your energy,
And sharpen your mind,
Than to find the balance your soul longs for?
Surely the two are compatible,
After all,
The heart and the mind occupy the same vessel.
The river cannot flow without water and gravity.

My journey began with a crunch underfoot.
The innocent snail was,
Perhaps,
A heavenly martyr,
Sent here by the universe,
To usher me,
Into her presence.

So there you go. Hope you like em.

Asiaprod

These are very good. Keep it up, they apply to more than just Zen

I particularly like this one:

My journey began with a crunch underfoot.
The innocent snail was,
Perhaps,
A heavenly martyr,
Sent here by the universe,
To usher me,
Into her presence.

Scofflaw

those mountains
- sand in a stream


Probably works best if you've studied geology!

cordially,
Scofflaw

maitri

Bodhidharma wrote:

Hey. Here are some Zen poems i wrote the other night.

Thank you, Bodhidharma!:) I was moved by your poems. Especially the last one (but they're all very good).

Also the one "I value love above enlightenment," gave me a nice moment of reflection.

Scofflaw wrote:

those mountains
- sand in a stream


Probably works best if you've studied geology!

Cool!:) It works even without education of geology.;) Thanks!

Scofflaw

maitri wrote:

Thank you, Bodhidharma!:) I was moved by your poems. Especially the last one (but they're all very good).

Also the one "I value love above enlightenment," gave me a nice moment of reflection.[?QUOTE]

Keep 'em coming. Poetry is always welcome.



Cool!:) It works even without education of geology.;)

Thanks! The advantage of geology is knowing that mountains are often made out of the sands of previously eroded mountains...

Problem with writing mine is that I can't be sure they aren't just half-remembered versions of Basho. Bodhidharma's are more distinctive (and more positive). When I write:

the graves are covered with fresh blossoms
- summer is coming

I'm sure it's been said before!

the journey to enlightenment starts with a single step
ten thousand pebbles in my good shoes
- I will go barefoot


frog jumps into the pond
splash!
- the reeds chatter, and are still

The last one is definitely from Basho.

cordially,
Scofflaw

maitri

Scofflaw wrote:

Problem with writing mine is that I can't be sure they aren't just half-remembered versions of Basho. Bodhidharma's are more distinctive (and more positive). When I write:

the graves are covered with fresh blossoms
- summer is coming

I'm sure it's been said before!

Oh, with writing it is always like that.:D
Somebody has always said everything before. It doesn't matter.
We need to say them again, I think, maybe mix the words in a new way

When I studied philosophy I alway found out that every "new" thought, had always been thought before - either by Plato or by Buddha (or both).

Nice poems, Scofflaw, no matter who found them first!:)

You won't have the pleasure of reading my poems because they're in Norwegian, and anyway they're all about GAS (Greed, Anger, Stupidity) and absolutely not from a very enlightened perspective (more like written from within GAS) - and yes, somebody (mostly Jens Bjørneboe) has written them before (and better than me, which is very annoying. Grrr!).

Asiaprod

Scofflaw, I like this one a lot:

The journey to enlightenment starts with a single step
ten thousand pebbles in my good shoes
- I will go barefoot

As Matri said, everything has been said before, what matters is how a new interpretation is perceived. I think you do very well, wish I could right this stuff. I will just have so settle for posting long explanations as my contribution:(

Scofflaw

maitri wrote:

Oh, with writing it is always like that.:D
Somebody has always said everything before. It doesn't matter.
We need to say them again, I think, maybe mix the words in a new way

When I studied philosophy I alway found out that every "new" thought, had always been thought before - either by Plato or by Buddha (or both).

Nice poems, Scofflaw, no matter who found them first!:)

You won't have the pleasure of reading my poems because they're in Norwegian, and anyway they're all about GAS (Greed, Anger, Stupidity) and absolutely not from a very enlightened perspective (more like written from within GAS) - and yes, somebody (mostly Jens Bjørneboe) has written them before (and better than me, which is very annoying. Grrr!).

On the other hand, he's dead, and you're not! Actually, I can read Norwegian very badly (worked on the rigs off Bergen and Stavanger for a couple of years). There's a lot of words that are written nearly the same as the Doric Scots dialect - Aberdeen (where I lived at the time) - and if you pronounce them phonetically they're quite familiar.

cordially,
Scofflaw

Scofflaw

Asiaprod wrote:

Scofflaw, I like this one a lot:

The journey to enlightenment starts with a single step
ten thousand pebbles in my good shoes
- I will go barefoot

As Matri said, everything has been said before, what matters is how a new interpretation is perceived. I think you do very well, wish I could right this stuff. I will just have so settle for posting long explanations as my contribution:(

a single lightning flash
illuminates the path
- I'd prefer a map

cordially,
Scofflaw

maitri

Scofflaw wrote:

Asiaprod wrote:

Scofflaw, I like this one a lot:

The journey to enlightenment starts with a single step
ten thousand pebbles in my good shoes
- I will go barefoot

As Matri said, everything has been said before, what matters is how a new interpretation is perceived. I think you do very well, wish I could right this stuff. I will just have so settle for posting long explanations as my contribution

a single lightning flash
illuminates the path
- I'd prefer a map

cordially,
Scofflaw

Cool!

Asiaprod wrote:

I will just have so settle for posting long explanations as my contribution:(

Yes please do that!:) That’s half the fun with poems anyway.

Scofflaw wrote:

On the other hand, he's dead, and you're not!

Good point!
I’ve actually met Bjørneboe about a year (or possibly a year and a half) before he died. I lived in the same area as his cousin (My street, BTW, had the nice name "Sorgenfrigaten", which means Sorrow’s End Street - I've always wanted to move back there:D ) and one day my mother went for a walk with me in a pram and he and his cousin André Bjerke (another Norwegian poet and author) came walking home more than a bit tipsy (is that the right word?) after having taken a few pints too much at the local pub, and Bjørneboe decided that he wanted to say hello to the small child in the pram because he was always very fond of children, and he put his big red face into the pram and said “Hellooo”. My mother was sure that he would frighten me to tears with that red face and smelling breath, but I only smiled at the funny man. Of course I don’t remember anything of this, but I have seen two interviews with him later and he looked very kind and very very sad and had beautiful big brown eyes.

Oh sorry, I’m just so off topic, again…

Scofflaw wrote:

Actually, I can read Norwegian very badly (worked on the rigs off Bergen and Stavanger for a couple of years). There's a lot of words that are written nearly the same as the Doric Scots dialect - Aberdeen (where I lived at the time) - and if you pronounce them phonetically they're quite familiar.

Cool! If I ever write something relevant I might post it so that you won’t forget your Norwegian.


M.

MeditationMom

by Bodhidarma - I value love above enlightenment.

I love your poems, Bodhidarma. Thank you for posting them. I hope you don't mind my telling you - maybe to your relief - that love and enlightenment are the same thing. So you don't have to make a choice.

Think of it as the coal that, under a lot of pressure, and with lots of time, turns into diamonds. Patience, trust, surrender turn love into enlightenment over time.

So, whatever you endure and suffer in love, is worthwhile, unlike anything you may suffer for money, power or fame, which is just useless.