Tag Archives: Existenlism
Aug. 28th, 2020: Quar
I am not a keeper of records or memories. Nor, of cream and curds mixed with fantasy and the absurd. As if… it is like yesterday or yester-year! I never know today or the future clear.
There is a presence in the keeper’s mind of your absence; in the “tock” of time or the “tick” of our heartbeat that brings us closer, in each disappearing day.
the rose is a scent
that wants to be remembered
Aug. 29th, 2020: Quar
There are storms and floods
covering the shallows
disparaging the un-holy;
while the righteous soil
absorbs the water.
And emerges as just another flower,
in the garden.
During these times:
We are looking for monks, brothers, and sisters who live, eat, and teach in our neighborhoods.
Instead we find a High Order of Holy Administrations that accepts, for the propagation of our core beliefs in each other, Alms… that prop up ancient Architectural structures to modern day Mansions; that feast in its symbolic understanding. Accepting tidings and spending them as a profit from a ticket purchased to Paradise, Angels, and reconciliation and if you double your offer, they’ll include free shipping.. Some admit it’s a raffle; 1st. place, Heaven. 2nd. place, Purgatory, 3rd. place Hell. 4th. Place, stay alive and pay twice.
We are looking for the monks, brothers, and sisters who live, eat, and teach in our neighborhoods. That understands the Holy spiritual path to community without compensation or lack of dogmatic male compliance.
it’s a cloudy day
winds are changing tomorrow
sun not far behind
I understand why some shutter their windows
But, they eventually need
to let the sun in, to shine through
Looking at the stones I placed around my small flower garden, I noticed this particular one, quite larger than the other ones, was placed in the middle and on top of the small stone wall. It caught my attention as it transformed into a focus that became clearer as I paid attention.
I saw my history from childhood to my children appear and diminish as another transition appeared.
I couldn’t take my eyes from the story-teller stone. Until it all passed, and I could focus, again on my garden.
appearance in Spring
gaiety and rebellion
settles in the fall
Aug. 24th 2020: Quar
Illness and death in a pandemic can become common place, as “Barkers” praise the immune; at the grave site of the families and friends in grief.
flowers fall to ground
as insects chew thru the stem
the leaves flirt with the moon in a summer breeze,
flickering light between trees;
as I remembered our first kiss.
Now, here we sit, in our distance
without romance or adventure.
We sip our home-grown tea.
Flower without sun
Light without darkness of moon
Wilts in self-pity
Who puts a half piece of toast with jelly and peanut butter in the refrigerator at midnight, after eating half of it, ten minutes before?
lightning bug dims
in the light of yesterday
story still untold
So, You told me life never ends. Yet, you want me to sign a contract in blood, with my soul nailed to a post from my past; as you fiddle in hate and roast us in hell.
You promised redemption and Angels for brides! And we would be received to life after. But what are you doing for us now? Without blood, anger or flood to keep our heads above water?
what season is light
when darkness seems to prevail
in hearts without love
QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]
June 18th 2020 QUAR
Ode to my Coleus and her best friends:
Oh! Coleus of majestic colors of red, yellow, and green, standing tall among the pansies and petunias.
The pine New Hampshire mountains, as a back drop, gives the admirer a reflection in the mind. Colorful fantasies even to the blind.
black and white is stark
rainbows from dark clouds bend light
This time, just before dusk, I’ve noticed, on several occasions, a black butterfly. The only reason I notice it, she flutters around the sunflowers, never touching them, and just as quickly, I notice her whizzing by my ear as she flies away. “Sleep tight” I’ve heard.
Now, what the hell is that all about? As I said my prayers.
Chair in the garden
Flowers or vegetables
Space is required
a wine-o’s lament
sometimes i feel no pain,
without memory, history,
or just absent from the space I am.
for a moment or two
or fifty years it’s the same.
i’ve atrophied the ability to understand
or acknowledge the pain.
someday I will only hurt
without pain again.
groom to please caretaker green
wilts when you piss on
Summer’s heat with a cool mountain breeze melts the senesces, as I watch the glitter from the lake below.
bending flower sleep
a noon hour lunch hurries
empty bag to save
Sunset, reminiscent of my sunrise, yet not remembering how I got here.
Oh! I am enjoying how I come and go.
it’s a good evening
sunshine fades with “Bon Nuit”
moon grass celebrates
QUAR Notes: [Haibun Journal]