Year’s end,
all corners
of this floating world, swept.
— Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694), “Zen Poetry: Let the Spring Breeze Enter.” Translated by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto
Notes:
How lonely it is:
A winter world full of rain,
Rain raining on rain.
— Richard Wright, from “Haiku: The Last Poems of an American Icon”
Photo: DK. Daybreak. October 30, 2020. 6:37 am. Today’s Forecast: Rain. And more rain. 40° F, feels like 31 ° F. Wind Gusts up to 33 mph. Cove Island Park, Stamford CT
And come the dawn,
how slow and easy the Sun-beams
Long legs of a great crab,
move through the sea of mist.
~ Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707), Haiku in Mad in Translation by Robin D. Gill
Photo: 6:06 am. 60° F. Low tide. Weed Ave Stamford, CT.
First blossoms.
Seeing them extends my life seventy-five more years.
~Matsuo Bashō, “haiku 96”, from “Reading Basho with My Ten Year Old” in Paris Review, April 29, 2020
Notes:
Fallen leaves
fall on each other—
rain beats on the rain.
~ Kyōtai, from Haiku: An Anthology of Japanese Poems
Notes: Haiku via soracities. Photo: Rain and Coffee
Dew evaporates
And all our world is dew…so dear,
So fresh, so fleeting.
~ Issa, 1763 – 1828, on the death of his child
Notes:
Nothing is wrong.
The mind says that
Something is wrong which activates
An inner drive to do something
It is thought alone that destroys your peace.
~ Wu Hsin, excerpt from Morning Statements from This Too: The Water Cave Tutelage
Photograph: Patty Maher via Aberrant Beauty
Ryokan was a Zen master, hermit, calligrapher, and poet. He was known for his great kindness – he would pick lice out of his robe, place them outside so that they could get some sun and then later put them back into his robe. He smiled continuously, and people said that when he visited they felt “as if spring had come on a dark winter’s day.” He took the name “Great Fool” for himself. When a thief stole his few simple possessions, he wrote this famous haiku:
The thief left it behind:
the moon
at my window.
Notes:
4:00 am. Tuesday morning.
Headphones strapped on. A Pandora Mix of David Gray.
Situations running through my head.
Three good nights of sleep to rejuvenate the soul. A Southern Baptist Preacher, arms reaching for the Heavens: Praise the Lord.
If there is a God, she sang The Best Thing I Never Had on The Voice last night. Beth Spanger, a young lady from Aiken, S.C. I see Light, the woman is Light.
After fifty odd years, I find Molière and Le Misanthrope (1666). Les doutes sont fâcheux plus que toute autre chose. (Doubts are more cruel than the worst of truths. Act III, sc. v.).
I’ve ratcheted it up. Read. Watch. See. More. More. More. Faster.
Yet, not fast enough. [Read more…]
How important it must be to someone
that I am alive and walking,
and that I have written these poems.
This morning the sun stood right at the end of the road
and waited for me.”
~ Ted Kooser. March 20, The vernal equinox. [Read more…]
I saw the season’s first bluebird this morning,
one month ahead of its scheduled arrival.
Lucky I am to go off to my cancer appointment
having been given a bluebird, and,
for a lifetime, having been given this world.
~ Ted Kooser. March 18, Gusty and warm.
Preface of Ted Kooser’s “Winter Morning Walks: One hundred postcards to Jim Harrison“:
In the autumn of 1998, during my recovery from surgery and radiation for cancer, I began taking a two-mile walk each morning. I’d been told by my radiation oncologist to stay out of the sun for a year because of skin sensitivity, so I exercised before dawn, hiking the isolated country roads near where I live, sometimes with my wife but most often alone.
During the previous summer, depressed by my illness, preoccupied by the routines of my treatment, and feeling miserably sorry for myself, I’d all but given up on reading and writing. Then, as autumn began to fade and winter came on, my health began to improve. One morning in November, following my walk, I surprised myself by trying my hand at a poem. Soon I was writing everyday.
Several years before, my friend Jim Harrison and i Have carried on a correspondence in haiku. As a variation on this, I began pasting my morning poems on postcards and sending them to Jim, whose generosity, patience and good humor are here acknowledged. What follows is a election of one hundred of these postcards.
Notes: Ted Kooser Bio. Photograph – 500px / Bluebird in flight by Sridatta Chegu via Giraffe in a Tree
Here are five (5) separate poems from Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry by Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser that all reference the Moon. All beautiful. All made me think. My favorite: No. 4.
No. 1:
A welcome mat of moonlight
on the floor.
Wipe your feet before getting into bed.
No. 2:
The moon put her hand
over my mouth and told me
to shut up and watch.
No. 3:
A house will turn itself
to catch a little moonlight
on a bedpost.
The butterfly’s brain,
the size of a grain of salt,
guides her to Mexico.
~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Notes: Photo Source: nathab.com. Poem Source: Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry. Post title inspired by Albert Einstein’s quote: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Lost:
Ambition.
Found:
A good book,
an old sweater,
loose shoes.
~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Photo Source: weheartit. Poem: Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Woodpecker,
why so much effort
for such little gain?
~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Credits: Image: wikimedia. Poem: Thank you Steve Layman for pointing me to Braided Creek.
A bitter morning,
sparrows sitting together
without any necks.
~ James Hackett
Leaving the doctor,
The whole world looks different
This autumn morning.
—Richard Wright, from Haiku: This Other World
Credits: Haiku: APoetReflects. Photograph: Chilliwack Lake, British Columbia Canada by Zach Copland via Sundoginthesky.
I came from brilliancy
And return to brilliancy.
What is this?
– Hoshin
Sources: Haiku – Thank you Whiskey River. Hugo Raes Portrait by Stephan Vanfleteren
Good Wednesday morning. Here’s my selection of inspiring posts of the week.
Live & Learn 