A Poya Day
A throne draped in virgin white
Flowing gently in the mildest of mistrals
Like the gentle flight of a coasting crane
Under the lofty branches of a lonely Bo tree
As the bountiful leaves part with a vivacious rhapsody
The rustle of shelves of leaves, elating the prospering dew
Yearning to spring on the unsuspecting feet of the passing crowds
As Aurora unveiled the promise of a Poya day
As the gathering crowd await the advent of a scholarly monk
For reverberating wisdom to burgeon the mind
In the fluidity of a heavenly ataraxia, a serendipitous tranquility
Tides of an apical serenity embracing the sands of the porous psyche
As the mistral gathers vivacity, a lonely monk ascends to his apical seat
A worldly acumen resonates from the epicenter of the monk's voluble lips
To harness grains of benevolence, to nurture the voracious appetites of thawing minds
To cater to the famished intellect, to engender a transformation from within
To fuse in to the resonance of goodwill a lonely monk bestows
Worldly wisdom jumping across through mental faucets
To enliven the conscience, to lend a helping hand to the marginalized
All this wrapped in the articulate sermons of a Poya day
As the full moon appears in the twilight sky, one can envision
The shimmering coronas of a submerged psyche swamped in wisdom
Yearning for an act of deliverance to ghettos of contemporary life
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Monk and the Tree
At dawn each day, as
the monk awoke upon the polished floor, and
rolled his bedding mat, the Way –
the way things are, the way they follow –
walked its way beside him.
Later, he would take his brush,
the ink-block, paper, and the water-pot
he filled each day with water from the river,
and find a place, among the woods,
or by the river bank; where the Way
would teach him old things, seen as if now new.
Most often, he would sit near an ancient tree
which had so much to teach him;
its trunk and branches gnarled and twisted
with the wisdom of the Way.
The tree was, as great trees are, the most
adventurous of artists: every Spring,
it would put forth new twigs,
as awkward as a newborn deer on
stick-like legs, trying to stand and walk;
the tree would let the Way make it
as awkward, unsymmetrical,
as inartistic as could be…
then slowly through the year, the tree, the Way
would make of this, a new and daring beauty;
and the monk would learn of it,
take up the brush, moisten the ink-block,
and – brush gently swishing black on white –
draw his daily lesson through the year…
and because he was so loved and famed,
connoisseurs of that most ancient art
would beg his paintings; find their breath
held, at his daring; their eyes would learn the Way.
When the monk, now old, joined the Immortals,
his many students gathered near that ancient tree.
They said, the tree did not seem sad at all;
threw out new leaves, seemed to rejoice;
as teachers do, whenever pupils shine.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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White Hair
i let the years pass on my busy days
this and that
those and there and here
contemplation is a monk and he has not come
my door is open
and the crowd came in. Leaves of years keep
falling like it is caused by the cyclone
of my moving forward onward
this and that and those and there and everywhere
until one moment when the last white hair fell
and then i shudder
to all these and that and those and there and here
and nowhere
and nothing, until the monk in saffron cloth came
asking me
if i am finally going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Kinds of Wisdom
Words of wisdom can indeed, speak to the heart’s most inner need,
But you must be aware my friend, where words take you in the end.
For earthly wisdom can mislead, the heart seeking an earthly need.
While wisdom sent from up above, guides you in God’s perfect love.
Wisdom comes from many schools, some are wise, some are fools,
Even teachings that sound wise, could be packaged in eternal lies.
Earthly wisdom tells you friend, don’t be concerned about your end,
Just live your life for number one, fill each day with pleasure and fun.
Godly wisdom fills you with love, while keeping your mind up above,
God helps you each day to live, knowing that you have more to give.
Worldly wisdom says fill your life, with things that cause much strife.
It tells you to grab the biggest toy, but in the end you’ll have no joy.
Godly wisdom through sacrifice, prepares you for your Eternal Life.
With this wisdom men shall see, Jesus Christ as they enter Eternity.
In the end all worldly wisdom, to the Truth of God it shall succumb.
When men try embracing The Son, He will say what’s done is done.
All the worldly wisdom down here, has no room for The Lord, I fear,
With the wisdom they think wise, the Lord we love, they just despise.
The same Lord who we hold dear, has let us know His return is near,
And Godly wisdom fixes our eyes, upon Christ without any comprise.
The Great Gambler
The Gambler stopped a monk
dwelling on spiritual plane,
And exclaimed, "Oh! monk
we both are exactly same
So I think we both of us
deserve equal name and fame.
Monk replied, "Gambler! I put
self not a pelf at stake,
And drink bitter poison
for God's sake
Only fool would say our
lives are same
For you a game is life
for me a life is game.''
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
27/12/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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So Lonely
Well someone told me yesterday
That when you throw your love away
You act as if you just dont care
You look as if youre going somewhere
But I just cant convince myself
I couldnt live with no one else
And I can only play that part
And sit and nurse my broken heart
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely
Know no ones knocked upon my door
For a thousand years or more
All made up and no where to go
Welcome to this one man show
Just take a seat theyre always free
No surprise no mystery
In this theatre that I call my soul
I always play the starring role
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
I feel so lonely...
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Lonely
Well someone told me yesterday
That when you throw your love away
You act as if you just dont care
You look as if youre going somewhere
But I just cant convince myself
I couldnt live with no one else
And I can only play that part
And sit and nurse my broken heart
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely
Know no ones knocked upon my door
For a thousand years or more
All made up and no where to go
Welcome to this one man show
Just take a seat theyre always free
No surprise no mystery
In this theatre that I call my soul
I always play the starring role
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely, so lonely
So lonely, so lonely, so lonely
I feel so lonely...
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first jazz pianist I heard was Thelonious Monk. My father was listening to an album of his called 'Monk's Dream' almost every day from the time I was born.
quote by Benny Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a monk sips morning tea
his other pleasure
the rustle of leaves
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Spank It
1-hey sped!
2-hey what?
1- what you wanna do?
2- I wanna spank!
1-spank what?
2- spank my little monk!!
1-to the left
2- to the right!
1&2- spank it up and down all night!
1- spank the monk!
2- spank, spank the monk!
1- spank the monk!
1&2- spank spank, the monk!
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wisdom From Above
The Word of God is so very clear, yet, so many men have no fear,
Within their hearts, of The Lord, and so God’s Word goes ignored;
A fear that begins wisdom for all, men everywhere great and small,
Wisdom which opens eyes to see, Truths from the Lord of Eternity.
The Lord revealed Himself to Israel, revealing His Purpose and Will,
And today the Lord’s Revelation, is available to every single nation,
For God spoke through His Son, not just to Israel, but to everyone,
God’s Son was revealed to all men, in a world that was condemned.
My friend, this day as in ages past, only Heavenly Wisdom will last,
A wisdom, which you will receive, when God’s Truth you do believe,
The Wisdom from The Lord above, greater than what men speak of,
Far surpassing the wisdom of men, that, Christ Jesus will condemn.
With this Wisdom, you will heed, the words of Truth which you read,
And as the Spirit opens your eyes, worldly wisdom you will despise,
Embracing Truths of God’s Word, over empty wisdom you’ve heard,
As The Spirit of God does impart, Truth and Wisdom into your heart.
Man’s worldly wisdom my friend, God makes foolishness in the end,
As God frustrates their empty ways, for The Lord’s Glory and Praise;
This all begins through Godly fear, of The Lord, Who is so very near,
And God’s Wisdom, you will see, leads a heart to New Life, Eternally.
(Copyright ©05/2010)
Not Fitting In Despite All Those Years
sometimes you envy
the monk in maroon peacefully
crossing the street
somewhere in Ho Chi Minh
or even an earthen bowl half-filled with water
with a jasmine flower floating
upon a very still world
you like to take the brush and some water colors
to paint all these
but it is a little crowded world you have there
there is simply no time for wasting
it's a fast paced lifestyle
the lifelessness of the to and fro
the unstoppable flow
trying to accomplish almost everything
without meaning.
somewhere in a dream
you wish you were the monk
or even
the jasmine
and then you hit your chest with your fist
convincing yourself that at a certain hour
you can be so foolish
still not fitting in despite all those years
'how can you be a beautiful jasmine in a concrete wall?
how can you be the monk in maroon in a public market full of
swindlers and screaming spice vendors? '
amidst the mess, in the middle of the crowd
how can you be a dream?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Roussalka
A LEGEND OF THE WATER-SPRITE
In forest depths, beside a mere,
A monk once made his habitation ;
Absorbed in penances severe,
In fast and prayer he sought salvation.
Already by his own poor spade
His grave was hollowed to receive him,
And every day the good saint prayed
That Heaven from earth would soon relieve him.
One summer's eve, the hermit poor,
At prayer within his narrow room,
Looked out beyond his humble door
And saw the forest wrapped in gloom ;
Night-mists were rising from the mere,
Between the clouds the moon 'gan peep;
The monk unto the pool drew near
And gazed into its waters deep.
He saw himself—drew back perturbed
By fears he ne'er had known before ;
For, lo, the waters were disturbed,
Then suddenly grew calm once more ;
'While fitful as a twilight shade,
Than virgin snow more purely white,
From out the pool appeared a maid
Approaching in the silver light.
She shook the bright drops from her hair
And gazed upon the anchorite ;
To look upon her form so fair
The good monk trembled with affright.
And he beheld her from afar
With head and hand strange signals make,
Then swifter than a shooting star
Dive back into the silent lake.
All night the hermit could not sleep,
All day in agony he prayed ;
But still he could not choose but keep
The image of that wondrous maid
Before him. So, when day did wane,
And overhead the moon was bright,
He watched, and saw her come again
In all her beauty, dazzling white.
She beckoned to him where he stood,
And gave him greeting glad and free.
She played and splashed about the flood,
She laughed and danced in childish glee,
As softly to the monk she cried :
' Come hither, monk, and join me here!'
Then suddenly she dipped to hide
Her beauty in the darkling mere.
The third day came—grown mad with love,
The hermit sought th' enchanted shore
Ere yet night's veil was drawn above,
And waited for the maid once more.
Dawn broke—the monk had disappeared . . .
And now the frightened children say
He haunts the pool: and lo! his beard
Floats on the water night and day.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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A Crying Monk
Once there was a monk
with peaceful mind without junk.
At funeral, he usually preached,
pacifying the people with grief,
saying one would leave,
when one's life ceased,
crying and weeping was no need,
Buddha's teaching one must heed,
One's karma would lead
to either heaven or hell indeed.
One day, the monk's mother died sudden death.
He cried violently without catching the breath.
The funeral attendents consoled him,
to stop wailing and tear flowing.
He said it couldn't help,
he now experienced sorrow and grief by himself.
Practice makes perfect
A bronze gong sounds and resonates.
The echoes slowly die away.
The ancient monk still meditates.
As he does every single day.
He falls into a trance like state.
Which he achieves with practised skill
The sound waves cannot penetrate.
His consciousness against his will.
The ancient monk sits tranquilly
.Detached from our reality.
He is content to simply be.
Enjoying the tranquillity.
Of being free from illusion
Earned by meditation.
Wednesday,25 April 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Jacksons, Monk And Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jacksons, Monk & Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely
Lonely life,
Lonely mind,
Lonely heart,
Lonely love,
Lonely fun,
Lonely work,
Lonely talk,
Lonely thoughts,
Lonely death,
Lonely walk,
Lonely run,
Lonely friend,
Lonely crying,
Lonely recess,
Lonely money,
Lonely health,
Lonely kissing,
Lonely loniness...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Queen Lear
Carried in her a rapturous hearth
Wrapped in placental cotton, a miraculous birth
Golden sands of autumn mirth
Yet the tides walloped, Queen Midas's firth
Words wrapped in quaint verse
Failed to part her newborn's lips, echoes terse
A cradle buried in soot, a harrowing hearse
Her bundle in an eternal slumber amidst god's murmurs
Sarcophagus molded in marble and stone
As the weeping lacrimals in madness atone
For mistakes burgundy's path had frantically blown
A night's magic, now a snowy winter to endlessly mourn
As the lullabies unfolded in the passing breeze
Draped was a bundle in virgin white, thrown to the seas
As her autumn's leaves fell to nature's lofty fees
The beauty levitated to a heavenly lullaby's tease
As down trickles a carnage in momentous tears
Crevices and fissures fail to pave the veneers
Yet the voracious voices within wail, cacophonous are one's own jeers
As she succumbs to embrace her fate, my dear Queen Lear
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Only Monk Keyed
The monk...
He has the key!
Does that make him,
The only monk keyed who sees?
Inspired by:
Mr. Duncan Wyllie
'Hi Duncan,
Thought I would have some fun with your poem,
'He Sees'.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heartbreak Hotel
Since my baby left me
I found a new place to dwell
Down at the end of lonely street at heartbreak hotel
I get so lonely baby
I get so lonely
I get so lonely I could die
Although its always crowded
I still can find some room
Where those broken hearted lovers
Cry away their gloom, oh!
I get so lonely
I get so lonely
Get so lonely I could die
Bellhops tears keep flowing
Desk clerk dressed in black
They been so long on lonely street
They aint never comin back
I get so lonely
I get so lonely
Get so lonely I could die
If your baby leaves you
And you have a tale to tell
Just take a walk
Down lonely street to heartbreak hotel
I get so lonely baby
I get so lonely
I get so lonely I could die
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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