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Photo borrowed from meemes.com
I sit alone sad at my whitening hair
Waiting for ten o’clock in my empty house
In the rain the hill fruits fall
Under the lamp grasshoppers sound
White hairs will never be transformed
That elixir is beyond creation
To eliminate decrepitude
Study the absolute.
Wang Wei (?701-761)
TR. G.W. Robinson
in Zen Poems, Selected and Edited by Peter Harris, Longman, P53.
Absolutely beautiful -so much said in so few words -not a Haiku is it ?
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Tianzi Mountain Nature Reserve in Wulingyuan, China, which consists of ‘stone towers’ surrounded by thick clouds. (Islands in a sea of clouds) I was there 27 years ago; I was a little bit younger and stronger – walked all the way to the top, step-by-step 🙂
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Sorry, Lindyp, this was meant to go above your comment; I had one eye on the QandA and the other one on the computer screen.
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Hi Lindyp. Nope, not quite a haiku, but very very Zen. I highly recommend the book. It really makes my commute (bus, train, train, walk) a wonderfully peaceful experience. I arrive with all my equanimity tanks totally full.
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I’m no good at poetry but I appreciate it.
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Thank you, Viv. It’s a beautiful poem amongst a lot of beautiful poems. I bet you could put some crisp observations together as winter approaches your neck of the woods. Have a really good squizz at the structure of the poem above – let the mind go and listen to the poem with the heart – and you’ll “see” a lot more, mist notwithstanding 🙂 Elusive Zen pathways invariably go to enlightenment – which is why they are so hard to follow – and why you are most likely to be successful when you just walk WITHOUT trying.
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The rattle of the Victa
green snail bait ready
gloves soon on hands
petunia oh so nodding
beckoning dynamic lifter
the cricket score filter
the sound of stillness
growing grasses
soon I’ll be home
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Slash !
Molluscicide
Poop
Sporting meditation
green green grass of home !
All together, now “Well, they’ll all come to meet me, in the shade of that old oak tree when they lay me, ‘neath the green green grass of home”….
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A beautiful Tom Jones tune about someone on death row from member.
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memory thch
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I was admiring the meaning of your slip of the tongue and supposed it was in cheek. Still, I found great amusement in it. Thank you, algy (speaking one member to another).
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I thought that flute sound
Was the echo
Of a lover’s whisper
By Bernard Durrant.
A friend of ours who lived twenty years in Japan…
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Nice one, H.
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