A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.
DEWDROP
Upon the back of grassblade host, Gently bowed, No longer but a shapeless ghost The breath of night is born Into a jewel of light, Restrained awhile, Poised, In the still untrodden dawn.
Hi Tim, Dewdrop reminded me of a poem I'd written some years ago:
MORNING RAPTURE I look across into the horizon and see the Divine The horizon looks back at me and sees infinity itself
Across the sky, Brahman's smile breaks out warm and illuminating The black ant wanders this way and that on the pavers drunk with opportunity and duty
Diamonds sparkle along the shafts of the wild weed weighing them down into glittering arches
The fine mist of the overnight rain worn by the mountains as their morning gown softens Brahman's dazzling smile
A sudden shower breaks from the gum tree as the kukabarra alights and the intrepid ghecko is drenched once more
This creature sits in morning prayer distributed in every element, compound, creation - the fallen leaves, the wet grass, the bottle brush and butcher bird the solitary drop of rain water the light and grey the white and blue and realizes that her prayer, her morning rapture is just one of Brahman's numberless, never-ending chant soundless yet heard by anyone who listens
I don't know if this is the best way to share poetry...probably not...but it's a start. We'll find something better I'm sure:-)Lucy
I apologise Lucy for not responding to your comment sooner - and it is from joy that I do, not obligation. I particularly love the imagery - of the ants - and generally - the antipodean face of Brahman - smiling - as ever.
2 comments:
Hi Tim, Dewdrop reminded me of a poem I'd written some years ago:
MORNING RAPTURE
I look across into the horizon
and see the Divine
The horizon looks back at me
and sees infinity itself
Across the sky, Brahman's smile breaks out
warm and illuminating
The black ant wanders this way and that
on the pavers
drunk with opportunity and duty
Diamonds sparkle along the shafts
of the wild weed
weighing them down into glittering arches
The fine mist of the overnight rain
worn by the mountains as their morning gown
softens Brahman's dazzling smile
A sudden shower breaks from the gum tree
as the kukabarra alights
and the intrepid ghecko is drenched
once more
This creature sits in morning prayer
distributed in every element, compound, creation -
the fallen leaves, the wet grass,
the bottle brush and butcher bird
the solitary drop of rain water
the light and grey
the white and blue
and realizes that her prayer,
her morning rapture
is just one of Brahman's numberless, never-ending chant
soundless
yet heard by anyone who listens
I don't know if this is the best way to share poetry...probably not...but it's a start. We'll find something better I'm sure:-)Lucy
I apologise Lucy for not responding to your comment sooner - and it is from joy that I do, not obligation.
I particularly love the imagery - of the ants - and generally - the antipodean face of Brahman - smiling - as ever.
It's a glorious way to exchange.
Namaste.
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