Comments on: Sunday Poem #14: Buddhist Chronicles 4

By: Hiro Boga

Hiro Boga — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 20:44:10 +0000

Bridget, oh, the beauty of hollow spaces, so perfectly held in the lines of your poem! Spaces of resonance, of possibility, awaiting the movement of voice and vibration, intention and action.

Thanks so much for this lovely poem!
.-= Hiro Boga�s last post … Sunday Poem #14: Buddhist Chronicles 4 =-.

By: Hiro Boga

Hiro Boga — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 20:42:29 +0000

Gina, thank you for this snow-poem! Wishing you warmth and a loving peace in the heart of the cold.

xo Hiro
.-= Hiro Boga�s last post … Sunday Poem #14: Buddhist Chronicles 4 =-.

By: Hiro Boga

Hiro Boga — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 20:41:21 +0000

Erika,

Thank you for this gorgeous, moving poem!

“And maybe your own white plumes
turned flamingo-pink from the sacrifice
of flesh and family?”

There are lesser fates, indeed. Yet shattered hearts and lives know only the pain of that fracturing, as they lie helpless amid the rubble of what was once whole.

For a while…sometimes for a long while.

Love, Hiro
.-= Hiro Boga�s last post … Sunday Poem #14: Buddhist Chronicles 4 =-.

By: Bridget

Bridget — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 19:10:13 +0000

(What a beautiful exercise this Sunday Football Morning!)

These sacred caves and spaces
hidden, hushed, are waiting.

These painted walls wait to hear your voice
echo in prayer…in song…in declaration.

Hollow, quiet, this space waits.
.-= Bridget�s last post … Your Energetic Body- The Basics =-.

By: Gina Loree Marks

Gina Loree Marks — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 15:56:38 +0000

(taking a stab, inspired by snowstorm I am ‘trapped’ in:)

bury me in your beauty
blind me with your purity

stop me in my busy-ness and haste

and humbly remind me of my powerlessness against your cold gentle strength
.-= Gina Loree Marks�s last post … When Worlds Collide =-.

By: Erika Harris

Erika Harris — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 10:27:19 +0000

Siddhartha’s Swan

Is it true
this swan you saved
honored a vow
you would later flee…

a vow to mate for life?

I don’t doubt your tender heart
was also punctured by an arrow;
a divine arrow that could not be removed.

And maybe your own white plumes
turned flamingo-pink from the sacrifice
of flesh and family?

But, like your swan, were you seized as trophy?
As iconic representative of illuminated minds?

There are lesser fates.
.-= Erika Harris�s last post … What do you do with your untold stories? =-.