The focus of our current modes of education is creating surfs for the economic machine, and not real and whole human beings, ready for a life brimming with loss and hope, anxiety and longing. Education in its current form leaves us underdeveloped precisely in those areas we need most, areas that would enable our full maturity and our growing into our full potential.
Month: May 2018
Tanka # 143
The dark of her eyes
revolves with intensity,
I wade her waters
and suddenly I am in the place
where everything turns.
Tanka # 142
I always sit
with the shadow of you,
something impalpable
yet somehow bigger
than the earth and sky.
Tanka # 141
The wanderer who lived
many years ago,
at midnight his footsteps
echo once again
from the moonlit field.
Haiku # 581
More than I could gather
in a lifetime of work…
moonlight in a drop of dew
Haibun # 4
Roads are so fascinating because far off, in the distance, they always curve into some unknown, inviting and frightening, tantalizing our sense of adventure. They open us to the moment and fill us with wonder, swelling our hearts with endless possibilities.
Again and again
what I lost came back to me…
a traveler on the road
Tanka # 140
Le parfum de ton absence
me transperce
et me laisse figer…
une fleur de jasmin
regardant la lune
~
The fragrance of your absence
pierces through me
and leaves me transfixed…
a jasmine flower
gazing at the moon
Haiku # 580
Only the moon visits…
a house of cobwebs
abandoned by the moors
Wandering Thought # 69
Freedom is not a letting go; it is a feeling of fullness that is only possible for those who subjugate themselves to a strict discipline and a regimen for the soul. Freedom is a feeling of greatness arising from channeling one’s energy into one or two things at the expense of many others. It is saying No to many things that one may wholeheartedly say Yes to the one or two things that one desires to rise through. Otherwise one stays mediocre as much of modernity is.
Tanka # 139
Listen closely—
all the flowers of spring
breaking their tight buds
are whispering
my love for you
Haiku # 579
If only for one night
my heart can forget
and become the moon
Haibun # 3
A crow flies below the crescent moon at twilight as the first star appears in the darkening sky. The sound of running water from a nearby stream mixes with the voices of the dying day. Something from the deep is sounding, but for who?—and what does it all mean?
With a thread of fragrance
I tie my poem
to the sail of the moon
Avec un fil de parfum
j’attache mon poème
au voile de la lune
Tanka # 138
Being with you
to what shall I liken it?
Eyes closed
inhaling
the scent of a rose.
Haiku # 578
Je m’étends dans elle
une fougère à l’écoute
de la forêt qui rêve
Free Verse # 425 (the circle of longing)
In our hearts
we are not so different,
all of us are a tapestry
weaved of this longing
for something
that never comes,
something
that is always coming.
~
Searching for things
to fill up the emptiness,
the holes crushingly aching
deep within the heart,
I shed my clothes and turn
to the ocean of love.
~
In the land of death
love gave me a new name
but whispered in my ear:
its letters
I alone must discover,
its meaning
I alone must live.
~
The moon’s light
enters through the window
and the circle of longing
is complete,
emptiness upon emptiness
and the aching dust
of so many years
catch fire and ignite –
waiting is over
the candle whispers;
everywhere I turn
I see fire
and feel myself flowing
in rivers to the sea.
~
Cross-legged you sit
watching the burning flames,
and I from across the bonfire
sit watching your face.
~
Through the gap
of a thousand years
you whispered to me.
Since I found your heartbeat
alive in my own heart
I learned to find you
in every moment of life,
in every joy or sorrow.
Beloved,
we are in the breath
of all the lovers
that ever were or will be,
we are their consuming fire,
their calm and shuddering joy.
~
Though imperceptible
it is the most solid reality,
my love for her
is like the wind at dawn
rousing to a wakefulness
the slumbering flowers.
Tanka # 137
The wolf of waiting
ate away my heart…
Through its hollow
the wind howls
at the graveyard moon.
Tanka # 136
From the flower clad hills
the cool breeze comes down
laden with the breath of flowers;
with an invisible cup I drink
the light of the moon.
~
Returning to my journal
next to the poem
I wrote for you
I found blossoming
a field of flowers
Tanka # 135
Even now
drained of wine
my poem still burns
longing to caress
your beautiful face
~
Birdsong drifting
on the evening wind—
the unrequited love
of a poet
vanished in the grass
Tanka # 134
Inside a world of silence
this poetry I keep writing
while I wait for you—
yet tonight, as always,
I am alone with the wind.
Tanka # 133
This death
let it fold me,
a leaf in the rover,
smoke dissolving
in autumn winds.
Rooted in Love 