A face I saw that arrested my attention: On the bus the other day, an older lady dressed in purple silk. Her hair was pulled back in a neat silver gray bun, her skin mapped with the lines of old age worn well. On her ears, diamonds wink like constellations. On her nose, more diamonds. I can imagine her in the mornings, eyes closed in devotion, fresh sandalwood paste on her forehead, a small heap of moist jasmine laid at the feet of her deity...
7 comments:
I do not choose to dream; it just comes to me
Some strange desire for actions.
As to the cool hand of some old warrior
The sword-handle or the war-worn usual helmet
Brings the short-lived life and long-fled deceptiveness,
So to my soul grown old-
Grown old with many combats, many military raids,
Grown old with many comings and goings
Till they send him dreams and no more deed;
So does he burst again with force for action,
Forgetful of the group of elders,
Forgetful that who rule do not fight anymore,
Forgetful that such power no more cuts to him
So does he burst again toward brave doings
:-)
How does one see gardening as one with death?
http://www.gardendigest.com/death.htm
Cherry trees will blossom every year;
But I'll disappear for good,
One of these days.
:-)
i totally didnt' get the first poem. The second one, I like.
While Haikus I have penned here many,
Admit, the poem is not mine to claim.
How do I speak of an old Zen master;
His dai-katana asleep on the stand.
At peace with the grass and dried bamboo
Only wind howls on old battlefields…
Omogashi relished in toothless mouth
Horizon scanned only for the setting sun.
No foes, no friends, not even the odd hen
Dare walk past his raked yard; or even care…
That is death D; colour of gray whiskers
That comes if must but then the so will the night.
And echoes of kiai shouted years ago, will rise
His kites that chase the milky way.
:-)
Rooba,
Good to have you back :-)
Have always written a few haikus.
For this particular post though only the last construct is mine. As a response to the comment.
No movement on your blog eh?
Looks like planning and books aren't giving enough food for thought. Hmmm...
You have a promise unfulfilled. See your last comment in your own blog. Cheers!
:-) aka GGB
Anon,
i still didn't get the first poem. Gah!
And btw do you know why I call Rupa 'Rooba'?
Hmmm... Have absolutely no idea.
Picked it up from ya cause it sounds nice.
Like one trying to call out while eating a whole K. C. Das Roshogulla at a go.
But pray tell; sure there is a story...
:-)
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