Wednesday, 24 May 2017
I watch people in the world
Throw away their lives lusting after things,
Never able to satisfy their desires,
Falling into deeper despair and torturing themselves.
Even if they get what they want
How long will they be able to enjoy it?
For one heavenly pleasure they suffer ten torments of hell,
Binding themselves more firmly to the grindstone.
Such people are like monkeys
Frantically grasping for the moon in the water
And then falling into a whirlpool.
How endlessly those caught up in the floating world suffer.
Despite myself, I fret over them all night
And cannot staunch my flow of tears.
Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831)
Monday, 1 May 2017
The heroic stars spending themselves,
Cooling their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,
They must burn out at length like used candles;
And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes.
There is the stuff for an epic poem -
This magnificent raid on the heart of darkness, their lost battle -
Oh happy Homer, taking the stars and the Gods for granted.
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
Wednesday, 29 March 2017
Monday, 20 March 2017
Coffee for a Poem Day.
Or Poem for a Coffee.
It's the same thing.
So, I just did one.
I drink coffee like a fish.
And they don't glug.
Or fiddle with spoons
Or cubes of sugar or
Fish are well-mannered.
My poem is now at zen my ass
It's called The Big Red Spot (and the Little Red Spot).
It's about the Hubble Telescope.
It's not about coffee.
As far as I know.
Julius Meinl serves coffee in little red cups.