Tag Archives: Existenlism
a note to my children:
You were all born with an Angel on your shoulder
Disguised as a small invisible white bird.
Look at you now! All grown up with a smile;
And without a frown, that ultimately always shines,
As bright as the moon clears the clouds.
Who knew how each of you would grow up;
with your mother and I. (in each smile and frown!)
As you were born
Sitting on your shoulder
we heard a white bird
Which our hearts still hear.
I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.
To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.
shit shines every night
along with the star light bright
“dew shine”, anyone ?
two mourning doves: (haibun)
relationships are being defined in the environment of the nest they live in.
–some in a tree with no leaves that once held dreams.— the true skeleton behind the feathers exposes its heart.
rattling off to a branch, bones tickling each other, they wait for another Love’s morning.
sunlight drying dew
summer’s warmth removes the sheet
pillow soft asleep
May 28th. 2020
Be who you want to be with all its failures and success. Until you realize who you really are and that your destination is your journey.
Then… life begins in the wisdom of understanding, acceptance, and with Blessings.
Flowers bloom in spring
Winter reaps in solid ground
Memories are now
April 17, 2020
i have no place to be going to
and with no hurry to get there
it seems, i have been here before.
there is no place to go
other than where i was going.
i am caged within the parameters
of whom i am.
my walk is slow and secure—
as I find where i am going;
with wisdom, compassion, and the knowledge
of understanding of who i am.
17 days in Q [Haibun]
Friday afternoons are a strange time of the day for me. Sometime I skip the mornings and late-night dishes; then go out to the safest places I know. Usually to the local grocery store and buy things I’ve never bought before.
It doesn’t take long to go about short business before I’m back in my “cave”; 4 o’clock and I’m lost on what to do. I hear the cuckoo clock in my head, telling me to go do the dishes then make myself something to eat. Again. I’m coming 😊
Wheels turn when moved
Birds fly from perch of safety
Rain shelters us all
the sound of april rain
i was born in the sound of rain.
whether it was from the grass,
or the splash of baptism;
or the windows of isolation;
or on barred pounding glass in prison;
or when I was safely home,
when it rocked me to sleep.
spring rains bring soothing sound.
proclaiming the birth, I would greet again,
in summer rain…
misty at times
other times as storms…
making roots become stronger
fall’s rain blows the leaf’s
to carpet the cradle;
before it freezes,
and blankets spring
in a lullaby of snow.
i was born in the sound of rain.
There is a sickness in the air
Tree tops are passing the news
To the stones and the soil
To prepare the paths
Through the forest
And into the valleys
To the villages of compassion;
To be cured .
Above darkening gray clouds
The dim glowing sun
Caught my eye.
I started to hum,
“Everything’s gonna’ be alright.”
As dusk, settled on my chair.
I silenced it with a sigh.
From ground to empty stoneware pottery,
my soul poured out my life
into my morning’s coffee cup;
existence to non-existence.
Oh, then to remembrance;
of knowledge, when I first held out my hand
—holding, the first summer’s rose.
I emptied my cup
holding empty stoneware pottery
waiting in anticipation for tomorrow’s coffee..