3 Zen Poems
Zen
I will think
Of nothing
And listen
To silence
That falls
As rain
On my roof
Zen
Terror
Sinks as silt
In a lake’s
Still water
Zen
TV voices
Filling my room
With triviality
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Voices
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Hey
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper, taking control of me
Watch the dancing shadows run away
All alone once again, afraid
All these faces, changing their shapes on me
I said laid it in my own world, will it ever be free?
Haunted figures around me, I want em' to stay
There always there to protect me, this is one thing you can't take away
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Yeah!
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper in my own mind, will it ever change?
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
I hear you calling
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices (acoustic)
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Hey
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper, taking control of me
Watch the dancing shadows run away
All alone once again, afraid
All these faces, changing their shapes on me
I said laid it in my own world, will it ever be free?
Haunted figures around me, I want em' to stay
There always there to protect me, this is one thing you can't take away
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day
Listen to the rain fallin' day by day by day
Yeah!
I hear you calling, voices are here again
I hear you whisper in my own mind, will it ever change?
Voices
Voices
Voices
Voices
I hear you calling
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listen To The Rain
(Rain)
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen listen
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen listen
Listen to each drop of rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Whispering secrets in rain (listen listen)
Aaah
Frantically searching for someone to hear
That story be more than it hides
Please don't let go
Can't we stay for a while?
It's just to hard to say goodbye
Listen to the rain
Aa...ah
Listen listen listen listen listen listen to the rain
Weeping
Oo...ooh oooh ooh oo...ooh
Oo...ooh oooh oh oh
Listen (listen) listen (listen)
Listen (listen) listen
I stand alone in the storm (listen listen)
Suddenly sweet words take hold
(Listen listen)
Hurry they stay for you haven't much time
Open your eyes to the love around you
You can feel youre alone
But I'm here still with you
You can do what you dream
Just remember to listen to the rain
oo...ooh oh oh oh oh
ooh ooh oh oh oooh
Listen
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Rain Falls Down
when the rain falls down it awakes my dream
when the rain falls down it washes me clean
when the rain falls down it screams my scream
when the rain falls down it follows me
when the rain falls down it carrys me
when the rain falls down it unties me
when the rain falls down it talks to me
when the rain falls down im comin clean
when the rain falls down. down on me.
poem by Alyssa Swensen
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My Search For Silence
I'll sit here in my bedroom
where the silence is sometimes deafening
(when I have thoughts on my mind
that need to be discussed) .
As I clear my mind to listen
to the silence
I realize there is no silence here.
The ticking of the old wind-up alarm clock
becomes so loud...
I feel compelled to move
my ''experiment'' to another room.
I find a comfortable spot
in the bathroom.
Sitting on the bench that normally holds
the all-important reading material
I begin to listen for the silence.
It takes very little time
for me to realize this is not the room
for silence.
The sink begins dripping
almost as if to mock me
and say ''Silence...yeah right! ''
I tighten the faucet only
to be laughed at by the toilet
as it makes it's usual
groan while it levels off the water in the bowl.
This is surely not the room for silence.
I head to the kitchen.
There must be silence here.
I find it still and quiet until I really listen.
The flourescent light above the stove
is whining as if to say ''I'm here! ''
I turn it off and begin my quest for silence
once more.
The refridgerator lets out a God-awful noise
that makes me jump.
It only last a few seconds but it's enough
to ruin the mood.
I begin to wonder if silence
can ever truly be found
in a house that is lived in.
I go sit in the living room.
As I plop down on the micro-suede couch
and listen to the music it makes against my flannel pajamas
I laugh.
Who wants silence?
I love the sounds of my life.
This house is full of sounds...
love, laughter, water dripping, lights flickering,
the clocks ticking....
and I'm listening
and loving every sound!
From My Room
From my room I hear
The wind blow
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
The morning comes with night
And leaves with night
My heart is in dark
Like flickering light
Pounding on and on
Through to dreams gone
In the dark clouded sky
With beams of low sun flight
Time slowly passes by
With shadows left to right
From my room I hear
Where I now dwell
The dark voices near
Of iciness and its cartel
Strings from icy harp
Filling the dark
Now outside
*Federico García Lorca once wrote:
“From my room I hear
The water jet
A finger of grapevine…”
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Mandolin Rain
(bruce hornsby/john hornsby)
The song came and went
Like the times that we spent
Hiding out from the rain under the carnival tent
Id laugh and hed smile
And it would last for a while
You dont know what you got til you lose it all again
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
A cool evening dance
Listening to the bluegrass band takes the chill
From the air til they play the last song
And Ill do my time
Keeping you off my mind but theres moments
That I find, Im not feeling so strong
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
Running down by the lakeshore
He did love the sound of a summer storm
It played on the lake like a mandolin
Now its washing him away once again
Once again, once again
Listen to the mandolin rain, listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break, every time that he goes away
Listen to the banjo wind, a sad song drifting low
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
Listen to my tears roll, down my face as he turns to go
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crocodile
The crock
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land
and a dusty crocodile.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Reptile
The Reptile
The small lake in the vale is muddy brown and
I see what looks like an uprooted tree floating
in the middle, the tree disappears and the water
ripples like it suddenly feels cold. There has
been rumours about sheep disappearing when
grazing near the lake but since there is a good
road nearby, rustlers have been blamed; mind,
dogs too have vanished and no self-respecting
thieve can possible be interested in our motley
canines. The breeze that made the water ripple
has died out and in sharp spring sunlight I can
see the tree again, but it seems to be lower in
the water. The lake gets smaller and browner
every year less rain falls now then in the past,
a few years hence it will be a piece of dry land,
with, perhaps, a crocodile skeleton on.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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It Smells Like Rain
It smells like rain
filling the air
before the first drops break
in quiet splashes on the river.
It smells like rain
musty and fresh at once
warning the birds
to go home.
And the rain comes
water on water
cool rush of sound
quieting insects
teasing fish
drenching boaters
surprised by the storm.
It smells like rain
It sounds like rain
It looks like rain, now
I’ll go outside
and feel the rain.
Hell. I’ll be the rain.
poem by Robert Fort
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Rain
'RAIN'
Rain what a nice name!
From the sky falling dauntlessly like drops of water
Sometimes the rain falls with thunder and sometimes not.
Oh how I feel to see the rain!
From my window I see the rain
And people with umbrellas and so on
Hundreds of people come out and see the rain.
Oh we enjoy rain
But now the thunder blows and falls with ice!
We get scared!
Rain in the seas and oceans,
The sailors are busy
And away moves the ships with gusty wind and thunder.
The rain gives us shower
And we get pleasure!
The rain fulfills our wishes and arises with rays of new hopes! ! !
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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Big Storm, The Rain Falls
The rain falls like leaves and snow.
It stutters and mutters
And bounces and flows.
The rain falls like a big black crow,
Flapping and cawing
And thrashing and crashing.
The rain falls like spades of earth
Tossed on the grave of summer mirth.
The rain falls like a magic spell:
Billions of droplets singing their songs.
The rain falls like a lover's kisses,
Wet on the flesh of the trembling earth.
The rain falls like a forest of time,
Shimmering seconds, liquid and cold.
The rain falls like an ancient story,
Trickling on roots, twisted and old.
poem by Norm Milstein
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Waters of an Oasis
It's clearer than purified water
much expensive than processed water
sweeter than honey jelly
healthier than rain water.
It's scarce than ocean water
plenty than lake water
quenching than well's water
energizing than falls' waters.
Oasis fruits are sweeter
its grass are healthier
its breezes are more lulling
and a unique captivating topography.
Oasis love is more loving.
Oasis air is more fresh
oasis life is worth living
oasis care is more caring
oasis death is more victorious.
poem by Fate Mcfate
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Circling
A bucketful of moon
falls on my door
with the smell of a salted night
on frozen shoulders of a punctured landscape.
I start expanding
unseeing a sentimental lake.
Life was asking a very high price
for the purple bruises.
Why do you land on the sea of names?
Only one face sinks in the spill
of words. Would you put the green
rain in my glass of absinthe?
poem by Satish Verma
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Two Worlds
Today is overcast- they say it will rain,
They said it would rain last night-
I was lost in thought when the thunder clapped-
Lightening brightened up the sky, though only for a moment-
Then darkness overtook the entire universe-
I am alone in my own world- that is my choice-
I see people everyday- outside of the world I was born in.
These people are strangers speaking a language I understand although
When words are put together in sentences- I cannot relate.
I am speaking of two worlds- one where millions live,
That unsafe, threatening place- and the world of my thoughts that I live in
Nearly all of the time- the one into which I surely believe
Is the one into which I was born, at the time, safe and sound.
Today is overcast- they say it shall rain-
They said it would rain last night, but when the raindrops
Splashed upon the edge of time, I was lost inside of that world of my own.
In that world of my own, where rain never falls,
In that world of my own, children are never born into.
Somebody stole me and brought me here- into the cruel and threatening place
Where millions of deranged and crazy people live-
Somehow, inside that world, I never fit in and
I feel I never belonged.
I would dance in the rain - the rain that they predicted-
I would dance and sing in this cruel world trying to cope until the sky would fall and
I would find myself in that sky, searching for the world into which I was born?
I am searching for always for that magical place that
Presently only exists inside the world of my thoughts.
Some years ago they took me and locked me inside a room they called 'Seclusion'-
A room dreaded by many to be locked inside-but I found peace of mind there,
If such a thing exists and in this room I could build my fantasies and dreams-
Until they released me back into that world that had not been kind to me.
Let it rain and let lightening strike-let the rain wash my tears away-
I guess I will keep dancing and singing in the rain until the sky falls or until
They take me away again and lock me in that room once more and there
I can lose myself into the world I created and listen to the rain fall as the sky falls-
While thunder claps- a beautiful sound that drowns out angry voices and
Lightening strikes, brightening a pathway where some day I dream,
I will find peace of mind without ever having to turn back time.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Whitering Tears
water water from my eyes why do you come when i cry
water water from my eyes why do you hurt when i cry
water water that falls from eyes sinks through my skin and cuts my heart
you taste like lost and hurt love and saltyness when i cry
The Leaking Roof....
there is no use
repairing the leak of the roof
of this
house
it is raining
let it rain
let the water wet this floor
and the furniture
let us wait when will this dark night
end
when this heavy rain shall stop
on the same leak
we shall see the light that falls
on those wet floors
and furniture
it will show us the truth
and shall guide us
what to do next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Grandmother's Love Letters
There are no stars to-night
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.
There is even room enough
For the letters of my mother's mother,
Elizabeth,
That have been pressed so long
Into a corner of the roof
That they are brown and soft,
And liable to melt as snow.
Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
It is all hung by an invisible white hair.
It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.
And I ask myself:
'Are your fingers long enough to play
Old keys that are but echoes:
Is the silence strong enough
To carry back the music to its source
And back to you again
As though to her?'
Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand
Through much of what she would not understand;
And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof
With such a sound of gently pitying laughter.
poem by Harold Hart Crane
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Listening Back
There are no comrade roses at my window,
No green things in the lane;
Upon the roof no sibilant soft patter-
The lullaby of rain;
Without is silence, and within is silence,
Till silence grows a pain.
Within is silence, and without is silence,
The snow is on the sill,
In snow the window wreath’d instead of roses,
And snow is very still....
I wonder is it singing in the grasses,
The rain, on Russian Hill?
poem by Ina D. Coolbrith
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