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About B Gourley

Bernie Gourley is a writer living in Bangalore, India. His poetry collection, Poems of the Introverted Yogi is now available on Amazon. He teaches yoga, with a specialization in pranayama, and holds a RYT500 certification. For most of his adult life, he practiced martial arts, including: Kobudo, Muay Thai, Kalaripayattu, and Taiji. He is a world traveler, having visited more than 40 countries around the globe.

“Epitaph On The World” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

PROMPT: Lose Track of Time

Daily writing prompt
Which activities make you lose track of time?

Everything but waiting the five minutes to press the plunger on the French press. As Tom Petty said, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

Busan Limerick

There was a young man from Busan --
'Twas up the hillside he lived on
That - pressed for time -
He bought a zipline,
But got stuck, dangling above Busan.

Cherubic Figurine [Haiku]

mountain forest trail:
cherubic figurine
cheers weary hikers.

DAILY PHOTO: Busan Sky Capsules

“In Search of the Taoist, Chang” [寻南溪常道士] by Liu Changqing 刘长卿

I walk the narrow path,
Clogs divoting the moss.
White clouds over the shore;
Gate obscured by Spring grass.
Post-rain, I see the pines,
Follow stream to its source.
Flower-mind, then Zen Mind --
Arrived! Words have no force.

This is poem #136 of the 300 Tang Poems [唐诗三百首.] The original in Simplified Chinese goes:

一路经行处, 莓苔见屐痕。
白云依静渚, 春草闭闲门。
过雨看松色, 随山到水源。
溪花与禅意, 相对亦忘言。

PROMPT: Bothers

Daily writing prompt
What bothers you and why?

I once got a masala cookie beside my coffee at a cafe that took itself way too seriously. What’s a masala cookie, you might ask? It’s treachery, I say. It sits on a plate pretending to be a delightful sugar cookie, but without sugar or sweetness of any kind — just salt and a spice mixture. It was supposed to bring out the notes of cherry, chocolate, and… Blah, Blah, Blah. You know what would bring out the notes of chocolate in the coffee, some fucking chocolate in the cookie — that’s what. You can’t just impersonate a cookie and expect anyone to tolerate that level of betrayal. I certainly don’t want to live in such a world. That’s it, the only offense of recent years that I haven’t gotten over. A few years after it happened, I walked by that place and saw that the cafe had gone out of business, replaced by a Hello Kitty phone-case store. Good! I hope the owner and staff have moved on, putting their liberal arts graduate degrees to good use, teaching at community colleges as they should, rather than terrorizing the public with pseudo-cookies to make their overpriced coffee seem more of a bargain. I’ll end my rant here to go sit with my trauma.

Innercity Magpie [Haiku]

sidewalk amblers
pass within inches
of unruffled magpie.

The Flower That Reaches [Senryū]

Hibiscus
reaches for pollen; though
pollen is nomadic.

DAILY PHOTO: Kowloon from Across Victoria Harbour