The Fallen Rose

 Rose

cries

when it falls

from the bush

[Keywords: poems, zen, moments, nature, life, death]

The Meaning of Words

The words

evaporate

as soon as they are written

on the invisible page

leaving only sadness and joy

the mystery of heart and mind

unknown and unknowable

Definition

They call it poetry

as if the word settles the argument

- we need words

but they so get in the way

of communicating

don't you think?

Don't you think?

Call it poetry or pottery or poverty

or whatever you like.

The Field That Wasn't There

I walked in a field that wasn't there

and came across life I'd seen nowhere

Nothing made sense but I didn't care

in this strangest of fields that wasn't there.

Unknown poem

 the world turned upside down

but the notebook kept its position

ready for the writer

the moments pass

 the moments pass

as we dwell on some interest

the moments pass

when we are distracted by floating junk

the moments pass

regardless of whether we are there for them

or in some daydream world

the moments pass

and they don't return.

Modern Times

once, life was simple

you had to find food

pick it or hunt for it.

you went hungry or felt fed.

you slept in the cave or the hut

went to the stream for water

enjoyed the warmth of the sun

and shivered through the wintry months.

your babies died, some survived

same with the mothers.

From time to time the emperor's

or nearest tribal king's men

came round and either killed you

or took your adult sons to war.

Sometimes they came back

often not.

Life was painful, hard

but we still had moments of love, laughter, joy.

and we knew how things were.

We knew how things were.

Now everything is available

though not to all.

to eat you have to have money

and for that you have to work

in the machine

or rely on something called the state

or charity.

The emperors who rule are not like before

where the most gruesome aggressor wore the crown.

Now, in some of our places, we vote for them

though we don't know what we are voting for.

Now we don't try to find food for our families

now we don't know where the food comes from

or how it is made

or what it is made of.

Nor do we know how the country runs

or the technology that makes everything work.

We vote if we still have any sense of hope and trust,

and think we are choosing our decision.

But everything is so complicated

there's no way for anyone except a professor

to really assess the options

and reach a rational conclusion.

And so it is,

eight billion people,

bewildered but unaware that we are bewildered,

cogs in cogs in cogs in cogs

sensing that we are still autonomous beings

but really we are not authentic any more.

True, there are moments, snatches, words, songs, a tale or two

that, offered, brings back a scent of reality amongst the insane clutter

of the megalopolis

which stretches from LA to Tokyo and Oslo to Dunedin

and it is these glimpses of what truly nurtures us

that reminds us of what it once was

to be human.