The river rushes
Taking everything with it
While the rocks are still.
What came from the stars
Anything is possible
Our library network is having a book spine poetry contest and one of the categories is haiku. I love a poetry challenge so I thought I’d try. It’s harder than it seems!
The glass slips out of my grasping hands.
A thousand suns glisten on my kitchen floor.
The death poem is a tradition in Zen Buddhism. Our sangha writes one at the new year every year as a way to reflect on the past year. I believe the tradition is that Buddhist monks wrote them on their death beds, but that might be more romanticism than truth. I like the idea of thinking of the putting away of the old year as a kind of death, and thinking about the new year as a rebirth.
I just realized that today is World Poetry Day! So in desperation I searched for something to post and I dug up this gem from a few years ago: my friend and colleague reading “What Is Poetry” by Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Her husband is on bongos. I’ve posted it before but it’s worth a re-post. It makes me smile when I hear it. 🙂