Dried flowers in winter’s light— brightened by an antique jar.
Flowers picked in the fall, after waiting all summer, to bloom—
Jar dug up, on the other side
of the “tell tale” opening in the stonewall;
an old, late 18-hundreds’s dump, left there —
Many lifetimes’ ago.
I go about my seasonal chores,
I Watch you— waiting for you to fade.
You never do.
My soul curls up in intimacy on the frosted windowsill
Embracing the jar of age; having kept its beauty
and displaying with pride, its content.
Teach me your resilience, your beauty
From your past, to the presence.
I find hope’s secret smile
In your colors of dried flowers
in winter’s reflection held in my antique jar.
(Helping me understand all the promises, winter carries.
From it’s off Spring, to this coming year’s honeymoon…to its encore.
Shorter days and longer nights cannot sustain its post
Against the emergence of summer— and longer days.
Unannounced by frost melting into dew
the first wave of spring—
Then, trumpeted through picnics and summer parades—
And, the last wave leaves,
with colorful banners exiting through Fall.)
I sketch this last season’ thoughts— dried flowers
reflecting winter’s delight— smiling this evening,
Looking forward to another beautiful tomorrow;
As reflected in an Antique jar.
I go about.
I Watch you— waiting for you to fade.
You never do.
Until I put you out where we first left
And clean the jar again, in late May.

Charcoal and colored pencil sketch by R.K. Garon
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Tags: and anything else hehe, Existenlism, French-Canadian, http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Pine Cone Diaries, Zen

Beach sifting through my hand,
Flowing, streaming, gathering gravity settling in the sand;
Thought and mood changes from grain to grain.
Perils and adventures, rising and falling again and again,
From one position to the next, as all things change
From false to truth- as a true soul steadily remains
In each sunset, in each full moon, in each new sunrise,
I Become the sand released from my hand, rolling and anchoring myself
In each changing tide.
Photo: Google images
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Tags: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Notes Found On The Refrigerator
As I was younger, the lawn looked beautiful
I worked hard. Pushing
The spacious green against the woods
Without fatigue.
Accented by the fresh scent
Of cut grass
I would go to the edge
Look into the woods
Step in, walk a bit
Then sit
To enjoy the view.
Especially looking through
The trees passed the lawn
Leading to our home
Adorned
With the flowers of youth.
As I get older, I do less.
The trees are creeping
In along with
The weeds,
They’re taking over the lawn,
Making it easier
Though, to take my walk
To the edge of the woods,
To step in and sit with
Sweet melancholy;
Looking past the small lawn
Feeling like a dandelion rose
Seeing an empty house
Having flowered and gone
To seed.
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Tags: Dandelion Rose :-), http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/, Sweet Melancholy~
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