Bernard Joy
Bee-
the first buddhist poem was short; the last, may nothave words at all but, because I never learnednot to fall in love with soundsthat curl like scented thoughtsfrom an incense bowl,this poemwill be longer than the rest I will imagine himfirst poet, intimate of Siddhārtha,sat in the shade where the lavender growswriting a verse for the white elephantswaying through a dreamits curled trunk, like thought, deliveringspirit’s lotus to the mother’s body I think of that third line, how beautiful,the opal eyes the buddha would inheritthe elephant’s ancient brown stare then into the purple scenta bee delves; and suddenlythe poem is three lines longthe poet lost to lavender and an amber body; to silver wings in concert with the air and so he goes, attentive to everything,save his poem,unable to renouncea single insect of this flowering spring and here, too, am I,unable to renounce a word of witnessing I write, list-like, the ten-thousand things wave, stone, earth, aether; the moon, the sun,the frosted and the nectared rills until, on a near pane,the quiet thud I might have missedof the bee I dreamt of in a poemwaiting to usher methrough the violet haze of truth
A Footprint-
laughter inspires more echoes than the sound of tearswalk the shoreline, pausing here and there in beauty,your footprints in the sand will outlive every edificespeak poetry as easily as sparrows sing,experiment with awareness,love like breathing or don’tthis is the passage you take through narrow lightthe only moment for adding your fireto the fire of the world and this?this collection of sounds?this echo of an inner voice? this is only laughtersimple and unreasonedbeing washed away by timeof all but essence like a footprint in the sand
Spirit And Mind-
your spiritual practice has beenlike the sun renouncing the moonas a light-thief like the moon asking the sunfor nightly alibis
B.T. Joy is a Scottish poet, haijin and haiga artist who received his honours degree in Creative Writing and Film Studies in 2009. He has written two volumes of haiku: In The Arms Of The Wind and The Reeds That Tilt The Sky, and his writing and art has appeared in journals in Australia, Japan, Hong Kong, Ireland, the USA and Britain.
the first buddhist poem was short; the last, may nothave words at all but, because I never learnednot to fall in love with soundsthat curl like scented thoughtsfrom an incense bowl,this poemwill be longer than the rest I will imagine himfirst poet, intimate of Siddhārtha,sat in the shade where the lavender growswriting a verse for the white elephantswaying through a dreamits curled trunk, like thought, deliveringspirit’s lotus to the mother’s body I think of that third line, how beautiful,the opal eyes the buddha would inheritthe elephant’s ancient brown stare then into the purple scenta bee delves; and suddenlythe poem is three lines longthe poet lost to lavender and an amber body; to silver wings in concert with the air and so he goes, attentive to everything,save his poem,unable to renouncea single insect of this flowering spring and here, too, am I,unable to renounce a word of witnessing I write, list-like, the ten-thousand things wave, stone, earth, aether; the moon, the sun,the frosted and the nectared rills until, on a near pane,the quiet thud I might have missedof the bee I dreamt of in a poemwaiting to usher methrough the violet haze of truth
A Footprint-
laughter inspires more echoes than the sound of tearswalk the shoreline, pausing here and there in beauty,your footprints in the sand will outlive every edificespeak poetry as easily as sparrows sing,experiment with awareness,love like breathing or don’tthis is the passage you take through narrow lightthe only moment for adding your fireto the fire of the world and this?this collection of sounds?this echo of an inner voice? this is only laughtersimple and unreasonedbeing washed away by timeof all but essence like a footprint in the sand
Spirit And Mind-
your spiritual practice has beenlike the sun renouncing the moonas a light-thief like the moon asking the sunfor nightly alibis
B.T. Joy is a Scottish poet, haijin and haiga artist who received his honours degree in Creative Writing and Film Studies in 2009. He has written two volumes of haiku: In The Arms Of The Wind and The Reeds That Tilt The Sky, and his writing and art has appeared in journals in Australia, Japan, Hong Kong, Ireland, the USA and Britain.