Beingness
trapped in words
Then comes Freedom

You say it so well,
dear Arsenio

Wow, I come back from a long weekend with all these treats. Your poetry is beautiful Arsenio. Thank you for sharing your heart with us.

Love, Char

There is only striving
A lighted cross around my neck
Reminds me

He enters in
And I shake and shiver
And call it rapture

She comes and lays with me
And I melt away
And call it ectasy

All is mirage
Cause You alone are Real
There is no loneliness
Cause only striving, again

Ah, a St ah..rives again ;)

Pleasure to see you. Thought of you only yesterday!

Grandpa.

To Grandpa,

Out of the house I stole
In the middle of the night

To the deep dark woods
A Jack-in-the-pulpit to become

O hapless happy plight
That I might preach to
the woodland sprites

And no one see me
And I see not myself

O for that night
When I in Him
Live invisible and dim.

(have used phrases from Christian mystics, a poor poet am I. Miss you and your multifarious names. I repeat: Who are you?) love, me

My dear Sherry
I am simply ed
Grandpa to some
Whippersnapper orphan
(work of the Devil)

Multifar-outness maybe
And in you fulfilling.
Multifariousness is
Of another and another
Seems there is no end.
Did you see him in 'The Matrix?'
I'm just this One
This ed.

From England's southern county
Single is my eye
And tickled pink my heart.
That's all.

nb.
Poor poet, my ass....rich is the imagination that can tickle me! But you must know that?

More than static visions
I have visuals
Spontaneous and interactive
Colorfull and storytelling

If they tickle you
That's well

But I must see them
Tickle you
I must

I'm blind

(must you swear like that? my arse, indeed)

hi Sherry,
your comment caught my eye and brought me back to Arsenio's poem from July.

colorful story-telling and imagery
that's our Arsenio,

and Ed for wordplay
he makes words spin like a top,

and UT has branches that catch words on their leaves
and then lets them drop where they may.

You can't fool me, love
You're a keeper!

Dear Arsenio,
Thank you for posting your poetry here. Without it I would not have an place to lay my thoughts.

As Milarepa said: keeness of intellect is invaluable for overcoming the fascination with all phenomena. So, in reviewing my above poems, followed by thoughts in parenthesis, I just realized and have analyzed that the thoughts expressed in the poems are more real, as far as states of mind go, than my thoughts in the parenthesis. And this is a major conclusion. And I may be high as a kite when I write them. But to just now discern this is major, and I'm sure that conclusion will be hard to hold on to.

Nevertheless, thanks again. I look forward to your next post and I hope we all have a beautiful Indian Summer.

Agreed, Sherry, poetry is a much closer stab at one's reality. A lass, even with poetry we are still daggers drawn until draggers dawn. (word has it)

Okay, my apologies; you are not MY ass. Can I be your guide dog ;) (I'm a bit thick)

You can call me Betty
And Betty you can call me Al

You can be my bodyguard
And I will be your long lost pal
---Paul Simon

You are toute de suite!

Ma Cherie, Betty?

THERE OUGHT TO BE A LAW

There ought to be a law against it
You make it too hard to find You

sweaty faces/dirty places

lovely lakes/cakes to bake

painful sickness/musical picnics

horrific horror/and again, tomorrow

You make it awfully hard to find You

It's Brahms's fault for sticking to the program
I guess He knows no better
No better than what You told Him

That's double hard, triple hard,
and yet we struggle
chard on chard.

WHO AM I

Who am I
that You should make me feel So

I looked for Truth
You gave me Love overwhelming

That I turn away and find
another way - in Wisdom

I look and see You try,
In every guise, to bring us home

What, in effulgent intimations, I embrace
And see more and more of Your Face.

Good God! What does E full gent mean? ;)

FRESH CRISP AIR

purple mountains
in the afternoon

shivering blue lake
at noon

white clouds
over high

air so clear
like a drink of cool water

food in my cupboard
a nice bed to lay in

what a wretch am I
to want only You

what a difficult wretch
You have to deal with

A JAPANESE TEA CEREMONY DAY

I'm having a Japanese Tea Ceremony Day
Things are slow
Movements precise
They have focus
With meaning concise

No ruminating
No perseverating
No calculating
No angst

No hustle, no bustle
A master of me
except, unfortunately,
my sphincter muscle

It's nettle tea for me
The greener!
As for the movement
I'm no keener
Ah, yes I weep
Sea water
But it's
For me
And Milarepa.

What was before me
Is now above me

What was striving for
Is now clinging to

Thanks Master Po

Grasshoppers can fly
But they've never caught my eye
Like this.

O that I would want
More than You want for me
It is less Sweet

On my horse
And I the rider
All dressed up
With no place to go

Can I
Now whisper
To thee
Horse?

SMALL ORBIT

You're in my small orbit
Not the kind that goes around the sun

The one that holds no memory
If not for my diary written on

So I can't remember
When You were here last

Only yesterday
I think

How I cried so hard
When You went away

How is it possible
To miss You so much?

Does that mean
...We once Touched?

once touched,
you can never
forget
...

Dear Kate,
You already know me.
What was it Mieke said?
Nevermind.
What was it I said
"in every guise, You try"

FALLING

If a leaf falls
And I think of You

Why
Do I have to know
Why

the leaf falls

on this lovely autumn afternoon,
Sherry makes this thought come to my mind :_)
...
no need to to ask
why the leaf
falls,
only ...
where

I will catch it
and make it
a treasure
even
as it
crumbles away

It is a part
of me
and
you

Leaves the tree
Lives on

What leaves the tree lives on?

Me and you always?

Un-break my heart.

Thanks Kate and Ed.

Tree can almost see
Lost leaves never leave a trace
Seeds...forget me knots

We all embark to climb all over Earth
Bare face lies
Until lit
Lie sleeping
Seed
Wholehearted
Timeless waiting.

Dear Ed,
I'm afraid I don't get the gist of your poem. Can you SPELL IT OUT, ie, write it's meaning in prose? Your dearest readers want to know your heart's intent and, as well as its intentions, by the way. And "those" include "mese".

(If you don't I'll be forced to write another radio broadcast interview with French Louie for my own bemusement!)

OK. Time's up. Me and French Louie are going to the Holiday Inn to see how long we can meditate tonight. It's the best I can do, writing wise, because there is something different about today.

THERE IS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT TODAY

IT'S LIKE IT ALWAYS WAS

AND ALWAYS WILL BE

TODAY

Sherry - enjoy your holiday
inn stay
I will wait
around
for Ed ...
he should be
wide awake
any minute
now

So you didn't understand timeless waiting, and now will do time with French Louis.

That's okay.

What more can I say? (Kate!)

hi there
my dearest
gardener -
A butterfly just
fluttered by my window,
You are awake
and
I love you
forever
~ Kate

Tiger Lily

I
a tiger lily
grow
on the side of the road

orange
with flecks of black
that You put
in just the right places

according to genus
and species

it wasn't I
so why
would You do this thing?

HIP HOP

I love the Bhagavad Gita
I love Master Po

I love the Mahayana
I love this Yog!

#37 Aye, Kate :))
Love is a butterfly
E'er fluttering
My heart
And yours

Mysticism

By Farid ud-Din Attar
The sun can only be seen by the light
of the sun. The more a man or woman knows,
the greater the bewilderment, the closer
to the sun the more dazzled, until a point
is reached where one no longer is.

A mystic knows without knowledge, without
intuition or information, without contemplation
or description or revelation. Mystics
are not themselves. They do not exist
in selves. They move as they are moved,
talk as words come, see with sight
that enters their eyes. I met a woman
once and asked her where love had led her.
"Fool, there's no destination to arrive at.
Loved one and lover and love are infinite."

By Farid ud-Din Attar
(1120? - 1220?)

English version by Coleman Barks

It is so delightful to still be enjoying
Timeless times
;)

~~~
~~~

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere,
they're in each other all along.

~~~
~~~

Rumi
Translator: Coleman Barks

Thank you, Kate.

DOUBLE YO

I, a tiger lily
grow on the side of the road

a man came by
I said: pick me

he chose another

just You and me, Father
the way I want it to be

I stand in the middle of the road
Stranded by traffic.

CRAZY LOVE

Wait!
I can't catch up to You;
Little Aspects I don't want;
Wait!

What does this hurt?
This thought and this mood?
But the ganglia of my heart.

So new;
Wait!
We have things to talk out.

PS: you are toute de sweet Mr. Ed.

Central reservation
Pow-wow!

all roads lead
to the timeless
time

and every Mystic
knows,
Love
holds all
the
Power

to make you
feel
Free

weee!

~ late nite Kate

Endless roads
run orbipeculiar
Love radiates
into o void
which an Eye
already fills

I see you, Kate,
night and day :))

dear Ed,
a\ll good gifts of my life
are joyful to share.

what I Am
joins with yours
and
We Are.

It's heaven,
loving
You

~ Kate

SECRECY OF THE ROCK

If I said You were in the rock

And others said no You were not there

And I, too, said I know You are not in the rock

Yet ....

I saw You in the rock.

NOTIONS

I swim through the notions of my mind

Upstream

Downstream

Over here

Over there

When will it end.

When my Father says so.

THE ROSE

How You make me laugh
How You make me cry
How You send me Bliss
How for me You provide

A Rose by any other name
would smell as sweet;
what radiates
when we meet?

Nothing outside
Something inside?
Something only You can hide
In Symbol

I want to climb up the tree
and hang on tight
with all my might
because when the wind blows
it sways
and I get afraid

its so much fun
like seeing brillaint stars
from afar

like seeing many angels
with them entangled

and myriads of worlds
just like a curl
in Mother's hair

but who can compare?
only my Father is there
and, too, let it be
my tree