zen

pagtikim sa kinaumagahan (in Tagalog language)








pagtikim sa kinaumagahan








magandang mangkok


sabaw na mainit pa



sisimulan mo na ba?








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dedicated to E.

In a Japanese Countryside


Snow Capped Mountain/Mt. Fuji (credit:  K K, Pexels.com)








In a Japanese Countryside

 

 

 

 

 

I'm in a Japanese

countryside

now,

 

but with whom?

 

 

 

Quiet community,
revived Western humanity,

 

 

that even Mt. Fuji is
tranquil—

 

That even the train cars on

metal rails in train stations

are silently drifting, giving

way for us—sleeping

 

 

 

in our modest households.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Mt. Fuji, Japan (credit: Liger Pham, Pexels.com)

[Her] Genuine Smiles [Are Against Others' Wiles]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Her] Genuine Smiles [Are Against Others' Wiles]





No beauty is going to
be there
for things that do not wither


(I suppose)


We see what's beyond
(the mists between us),
Just like their Renaissance


A happy, wilted leaf
(On That Pavement),
beyond belief—


—Stairs to your Zen garden,
[but it's all tall fences],
colors are..that golden


Every mark, marked

in its substance;

people's irritable
lifestyles, their suns!


Yet we woke up
barely having known
those chafed edges

(these artificial vessels or furnitures

or implements of our dreams)
its beam of natural light,

not the fixtures, when it gleams


—content in the simplicity
of the God-given days


(but, of course)


also, for every nighttime,
when there isn't a rhyme








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 11.02.2022 [04:20]; 11.01.2022 [06:26]:

 

Added "(but, of course)" for clarifying what I was meaning & to create a more

fluid free-verse composition according to my current whim and drift.  Also, I have added some more hashtags/tags (e.g., kataware-doki, kataware doki, Zen Buddhism [two words], and tebineri, esp. rustic beauty to emphasize what I have meant by some of its thematic relations/topics that I indirectly/directly broached).  Thank you.

 

2. Upon rechecking & reviewing if there is anything that I missed, I found "subtance" to be a misspelled word and & an error which is on my part.  Therefore, I apologize for this mistake (it has now been corrected.)

 

 

Uncorrected form of the verse:

 

"Every mark, marked

in its subtance;

people's irritable
lifestyles, their suns!"

 

 

2. b.  Added another hashtag "#rusticity"

 

In That Japanese Town Again








In That Japanese Town Again






I was there, too.
Sipping on a medium mug

of American-bought green tea.



(But it's been steeped in for so long.)





But if you try to question
how bitter it tasted,
well, it is not that bitter
—in the greater scheme of things





(Tho', screaming, in my dreams:

"If the Japanese withstood

bombings from the skies
like no other,
then why can't they
go through this one?")





Theirs, once again,
are framed signatures,
like household items
in Kyoto; after funerals that
were faced with protests in the state;






Preservation at its best,
equally interinvolved with caveats

—a newer testament in the Eastern front?




So long, cultural values.



So long, moral values.



Farewell, spiritual values!








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited 10.25.2022:

 

1.  Replaced the word Conservancy with its more appropriate word designation for what I was thinking about by the time of its inception (I was mistaken at the proper word usage to mean the preservation of Japan's traditional buildings or architectures or, definitely, its own heritage reflected in many of its natural landscapes, notwithstanding its built environment (rojis, satoyama, Takayama City, et al).

 

2.  Reedited form, despite being a free-verse form, just to make one long line to not stand out

awkwardly from the seemingly uniformly ordered poem.

no regrets

 

............




who cares if there 

are flowers on my corpse 

if I'm dead?


if love is your intent

then bring me

some good memories

and things you learned 

to make your life easier

and more worth living.


wrap it up in a rusted coffee can

from some dark alley where babies lie in dumpsters

and place it somewhere all can see and be comforted

that someone thought about them, and cared

about why their lives ended, and tried to understand

not to punish, but to prevent it.

 

give me life in my death,

and not sorrow for

what you forgot to do

or not do, to prevent 

yourself from being hurt

on the day I leave here.


funerals are for the ones who are left here,

because the only thing I intend 

to leave you after material possessions

are divied out,

is the same thing since the day 

I first looked in your eyes,


the gratitude for having shared moments together.


we have all been dying since the day we were born,

and if we arrive at our final resting place in peace,

and not at the hands of violence,

then we have been granted more than enough

to say we have been blessed.

I spend my days now thinking what a beautiful soul you are.






 

5:35 PM 8/4/2013 ©


inspired by http://www.postpoems.org/authors/huliganfish/poem/964713

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