Year’s End

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:

  • Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 6:44 am, December 31, 2021. 45° F & light fog. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning here.
  • Haiku: Thank you Whiskey River

Today’s Forecast: Rain. More Rain.

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

Saturday Morning

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.

Sunday Morning

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:

  • Photo: DK on Run This morning. 6:11 am.
  • Matsuo Bashō, born 松尾 金作, was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. He is recognized as the greatest master of haiku. He was born in 1644 and died in 1694

Autumn

gif-autumn-rain-leaves

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

So fresh, so fleeting

dew-light-green

Dew evaporates
And all our world is dew…so dear,
So fresh, so fleeting.

~ Issa, 1763 – 1828, on the death of his child

 


Notes:

Thundering Hubbub

patty-maher

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

 

Lice? Hmmm. The rest? Zen Mastery.

full-moon-gif

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.

Roderick MacIver


Notes:

 

Situations running through my head

black and white,
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…]

I am alive and walking

sun-morning-walk-light

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…]

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