A Melancholy song
Songs are hidden in the words we speak. —sometimes in harmony
with the background hum of those we did not
know or ever meet.
Our melody can sometimes be disheartening
as well as our belly aching, vomiting
between the screeching cacophonous dominant notes
we may have perceived.
My music repetitively keeps playing yesterday’s Rock & Roll songs,
Rhythm & Blues songs, gospel’s black and white songs
—they are all fine—
But, go to the window and lift the shade
and hum them—
as you look at the sun and the future of rain.
Sing off-key if you must —loud and unalarmed.
Sing the songs that are hidden in the conscience that spoke without a word-
putting you in music unharmed.
Hum the song for unity in freedom
that has morally and musically given us;
without disrespect to life in the words
or thoughts written in our songs.
Or, what we sing.
*****
The Banjo Player
I was talking to an old banjo player, pushing a 103 yrs old the other day. I asked him how his band was doing. “Well,” he said, wiping his face with one hand. “It’s over. There were four of us. One is dead, which left three of us unable to play his part and ours at the same time. Besides that, one is as Cuckoo as a broken string. The other young fella, in his late eighties, besides losing his hair has also, seemingly, lost the beat. Towards the end, we realized we were all playing different tunes insisting the other guy was messing up… and looking at each other with the stare of “each of us had better catch-up”. And, what was worst, when we were all on the same song, forgetting the words, we would automatically pick people out in the audience and break out into “Happy Birthday, to You…”.
We still keep in touch…”’
There was a moment of silence, thinking he was reminiscing when he suddenly blurted out, “Now where was I? Oh ya! That was quite a box of good cigars”, sitting back in his chair with a great big smile.
*****
Oh sea glass greening
Passing through low and high tides
Speckling at my feet
*****
The path once well-worn
Through the passing of my youth
Is now overgrown
****
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Tags: Growing up, Haiku, http://omukuvah.org/, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator, Peace, Tea, Zen
A rainbow un-torn,
Thin flying paper with tails.
String dangling from low branches,
Kite in a treetop.
Who will take it down?
Who will, with careful hands,
Retrieve it to fly again?
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Tags: physi Abuse
The snow is easy, it just falls
on several notes
played by the wind.
In between the trees
winter’s first appearance
swishes like a skirt, across the yard.
Harmony
in commotion,
in all those exclamations
innocent and clean. I
watch the ballet
and listen
to an orchestra unseen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It is said that King Ajastashatru had strong imprints for understanding emptiness, which was activated in the following way: one day, he invited Manjushri for a meal and was just about to offer him a very fine garment he had made ready, when Manjushri disappeared. Feeling very disappointed, Ajatashatru put on the garment himself and momentarily also disappeared. As a result of this he gained the understanding of emptiness.”
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Tags: Avalokiteśvara, Sonam Rinchen