Some miscellaneous poems and a few of my favorites:
Lower Togue Pond
Silently slips the loon
Tranquilly, without a ripple
Under a silver moon.
Slickrock
Let's go to the canyon,
Over slickrock, under arches;
Walk among the pinon.
Tuba City
Tuba City, sun, wind and sand,
Pick-up trucks aplenty;
The People are losing their land.
The Essence of Being
Connected Consciousness
Creates process, the Universe,
Compassion, happiness.
Cold Mountain
by Lu Ch'iu-Yin, Governor of T'ai Prefecture
"His poems were written on the walls of cliffs, on rocks and trees; they were in the colloquial T'ang, direct and uncomplicated, born out of experience, not romanticized beauty. Han-Shan called Cold Mountain his home, but it is more than that - Han-Shan is Cold Mountain. The road to Cold Mountain was his path to enlightenment."
"People ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer ice doesn't melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path
The trail goes on and on
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Cold Mountain is a house
Without beams or walls
The six doors left and right are open
The hall is blue sky
The rooms all vacant and vague
The east wall beats on the west wall
At the center nothing.
If I hide out at Cold Mountain
Why worry?
Days and months slip by like water
Time is like sparks knocked off flint
I'm happy to sit among these cliffs.
"one, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through the galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind."
PRAYER IN THE ROCKIES
by Ronald George Hand
"Wind of the mountains, blow me clear
Of trivial thoughts, and stupid fear;
Blue of the mountains, steep my soul,
Color my life and make me whole.
Rain in the mountains, wash me clean
Of selfish cares - the small and mean;
Oh purple mist and wild bird cry,
You mark the trail to a boulder sky.
Wind of the mountains, wind and the rain
Freshen my cup of laughter again;
Strength of the hills, flow into me;
Earth, bear me up to a Destiny."
Sufi Poem by Ibn Arabi
"My heart has become a receptacle of every form;
it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
and a temple for idols, and pilgrims' kaba,
and the tablets of the torah, and the book of the Koran.
I follow the religion of love, whichever way its camels take.
For this is my religion and my faith. "
Lower Togue Pond
Silently slips the loon
Tranquilly, without a ripple
Under a silver moon.
Slickrock
Let's go to the canyon,
Over slickrock, under arches;
Walk among the pinon.
Tuba City
Tuba City, sun, wind and sand,
Pick-up trucks aplenty;
The People are losing their land.
The Essence of Being
Connected Consciousness
Creates process, the Universe,
Compassion, happiness.
Cold Mountain
by Lu Ch'iu-Yin, Governor of T'ai Prefecture
"His poems were written on the walls of cliffs, on rocks and trees; they were in the colloquial T'ang, direct and uncomplicated, born out of experience, not romanticized beauty. Han-Shan called Cold Mountain his home, but it is more than that - Han-Shan is Cold Mountain. The road to Cold Mountain was his path to enlightenment."
"People ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer ice doesn't melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path
The trail goes on and on
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Cold Mountain is a house
Without beams or walls
The six doors left and right are open
The hall is blue sky
The rooms all vacant and vague
The east wall beats on the west wall
At the center nothing.
If I hide out at Cold Mountain
Why worry?
Days and months slip by like water
Time is like sparks knocked off flint
I'm happy to sit among these cliffs.
"one, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through the galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind."
PRAYER IN THE ROCKIES
by Ronald George Hand
"Wind of the mountains, blow me clear
Of trivial thoughts, and stupid fear;
Blue of the mountains, steep my soul,
Color my life and make me whole.
Rain in the mountains, wash me clean
Of selfish cares - the small and mean;
Oh purple mist and wild bird cry,
You mark the trail to a boulder sky.
Wind of the mountains, wind and the rain
Freshen my cup of laughter again;
Strength of the hills, flow into me;
Earth, bear me up to a Destiny."
Sufi Poem by Ibn Arabi
"My heart has become a receptacle of every form;
it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
and a temple for idols, and pilgrims' kaba,
and the tablets of the torah, and the book of the Koran.
I follow the religion of love, whichever way its camels take.
For this is my religion and my faith. "
