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Tag Archives: Existenlism

Notes found on the refrigerator…June 6th. & 7th. 2020

June 6th. 2020

I was kissed by a moth in the headlights

of an oncoming car;

we both flew… out of the way.

ZQ

           

June 7th. 2020 (Sunday)

     The butterflies were flying around the flowers and blooming blackberry bushes. Fluttering about in scenes of frenzy before they landed on one of them; wings upright and still.

     With their bright colors in the noon day sun, they enjoy their nectar for lunch. Then, they flutter away; wings never stopping, across the grass and flirting with the branches of the trees. But, they never go to the top of them, with no such dreams.

nature is alive

productive and on purpose

enjoy who you are

 

 

Scribbled note:

regardless of all my perfections and ignorance, I still seek redemption, in my Sacred nature.

 
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Posted by on June 7, 2020 in Existential, Haibun, Nature, Poetry, Quarantined, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…June 5th. 2020

 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!)

 

Love you

For ever

As you were born

Sitting on your shoulder

we heard a white bird

Which our hearts still hear.

 
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Posted by on June 6, 2020 in Children, Existential, Love, Poetry, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…June 4th. 2020

     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 ?

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2020 in Beginnings, Existential, Haibun, Haiku, Poetry, Zen

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…June 3rd. 2020

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

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…May 28th self-quarantined since Mars was discovered

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

 
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Posted by on June 1, 2020 in Beginnings, Haibun, Poetry, Zen

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…April 17,18, 2020

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.

 

walk slowly.

 

4/18/2020

 

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

 
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Posted by on April 18, 2020 in Haibun, Poetry, thoughts, unemployed, Zen

 

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Notes found on the refrigerator…April 2020

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

again.

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.

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2020 in Existential, Poetry, Zen

 

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~Pine Cone Diary~ March 2020

     **********

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..

 

 

 

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Another Challenging Morning

i found myself in prayer and in trust; eyes raised towards a sinking sunset.

light between branches at evenings’ dusk, i heard an internal voice

without malice or threat.

only one thought scrambled in a soft sentence out loud;

‘escape with an empty mind, deny yourself and accept what is Divine’.

i was deafened with doubt in branches hidden shroud.

yet, light continued to shine throughout my night;

quarter moon, half-moon, waxing or waning;

in a silent Lover’s light, forgiving me, of course, in morning’s light.

awaking in sunlight with fervor;

asking me to be in a life, without fewer errors.

 
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Posted by on March 21, 2020 in Poetry, prayer, Zen

 

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An Old Sailor

     I went out on the deck—felt the wind of the presence –before the jibe caught the gust of a yesterday’s breeze blowing into the sail. 

     The keel visibly surfaced two feet above foaming water, in an awkward lean, water marks on the humming board, visible as eye could see —Oh shit! I braced myself against the rail on tippy-toes. leaning in the opposite direction, baptized by the sea.

      Tapping the “Captain” on the shoulder, I went below.I rocked and balanced myself with each swell of cresting ten-foot waves; catching myself descending with arms extended against the polished teak stairs and the polished walls into the belly of the bow.

      Remembering the keel’s markings “MY LIFE”; both hands against the wall, I balanced myself, being driven across the course of tomorrow.

       I will continue to sail —as sea mist foams against the closing rocks of the shore.

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2020 in Prose Poetry, religion, Wisdom, Zen

 

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