stunted flowers:
in fear of mower
decapitation?
Category Archives: poem
“Ox” by Ikkyū [w/ Audio]
Among other creatures this is what I was.
Abilities depend on the realm;
realm also depends on abilities.
At birth I forgot completely by which path
I came.
I don't know, these years, which school
of monk I am.
Translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi and David Schneider in Essential Zen. 1994. HarperSanFrancisco.
Perilous [Haiku]
Be Water [Free Verse]
Cobbles [Haiku]
“I’ll be the tree…” by Sándor Petőfi [w/ Audio]
I'll be the tree, if you'll be its flower;
I'll be the flower, if you'll be the dew;
I'll be the dew, if you'll be the sunshine
That glistens as it unites we two.
If you, My Love, should become the Heavens,
I'd be reborn as a star on high.
Even if you turned into Hell, itself,
I'd be damned, and I'd gladly fry.
The Original Poem in Hungarian:
Fa leszek, ha fának vagy virága.
Ha harmat vagy: én virág leszek.
Harmat leszek, ha te napsugár vagy...
Csak, hogy lényink egyesüljenek.
Ha, leányka, te vagy a mennyország:
Akkor én csillagá változom.
Ha, leányka, te vagy a pokol: (hogy
Egyesüljünk) én elkárhozom.
FIVE WISE LINES FROM WILLIAM JAMES [Feb. 2025]
Our view of the world is truly shaped
by what we decide to hear.
The greatest weapon against stress
is our ability to choose
one thought over another.
The art of being wise is
the art of knowing what to overlook.
We have grown literally afraid to be poor.
We despise anyone who elects to be poor
in order to simplify and save his inner life.
Whenever two people meet,
there are really six people present.
There is each man as he sees himself,
each man as the other person sees him,
and each man as he really is.
NOTABLE MENTIONS:
We may be in the Universe as dogs and cats
are in our libraries, seeing the books
and hearing the conversation,
but having no inkling of the meaning of it all.
My experience is what I agree to attend to.
“The Secret Sits” by Robert Frost [w/ Audio]
Mountain Envy [Free Verse]
“The Voice of the Ancient Bard” by William Blake [w/ Audio]
Youth of delight, come hither,
And see the opening morn,
Image of truth new born.
Doubt is fled, & clouds of reason,
Dark disputes & artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze,
Tangled roots perplex her ways.
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones
of the dead,
And feel they know not what
but care,
And wish to lead others,
when they should be led.










