Comments on: Sunday Poem #7 http://hiroboga.com/blog/poems/sunday-poem-7/ : Unfold the miracle of your business Fri, 20 Apr 2012 14:42:02 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: Kate Braid http://hiroboga.com/blog/poems/sunday-poem-7/comment-page-1/#comment-1090 Kate Braid Tue, 01 Sep 2009 03:22:34 +0000 http://hiroboga.com/?p=961#comment-1090 Thank you for the wonderful Gorilla poem, Hiro. I love its daring, seeing and feeling the breath of the beast but still having the courage to do the dance, step forward. Here's an example of a small step I took recently. Green Careless, for years I wandered past but today I stop and stand at the edge of the marsh and watch reeds shake in the wake of the passage of birds. How do they stand so steady? The reeds, I mean, every season like this, again and again, green and alive, a stage for the performance of ducks and dragonflies, a curtain others can swim through that parts and closes again, fades in the fall to brown to rise again, open in spring. It’s no big deal. A resurrection no one bothered to write a book about. No Hallelujahs here. But every spring the birds know it, and the insects and fish: there will be green. And my part? What is there to do but stand, shaken by the wind and give thanks for green. Kate Braid .-= Kate Braid´s last post ... <a href="http://katebraid.com/2009/07/22/vancouver-readings-october-dates-tba/" rel="nofollow">Vancouver Readings - October 23, 2009</a> =-. Thank you for the wonderful Gorilla poem, Hiro. I love its daring, seeing and feeling the breath of the beast but still having the courage to do the dance, step forward.

Here’s an example of a small step I took recently.

Green

Careless, for years I wandered past
but today I stop and stand
at the edge of the marsh and watch
reeds shake in the wake of the passage of birds.

How do they stand so steady? The reeds, I mean,
every season like this, again and again, green and alive,
a stage for the performance of ducks and dragonflies,
a curtain others can swim through
that parts and closes again, fades
in the fall to brown to rise again, open
in spring. It’s no big deal. A resurrection
no one bothered to write a book about.
No Hallelujahs here.

But every spring the birds know it,
and the insects and fish: there will be green.
And my part? What is there to do but stand,
shaken by the wind and give thanks for green.

Kate Braid
.-= Kate Braid´s last post … Vancouver Readings – October 23, 2009 =-.

]]> By: Hiro Boga http://hiroboga.com/blog/poems/sunday-poem-7/comment-page-1/#comment-1076 Hiro Boga Sun, 30 Aug 2009 23:41:30 +0000 http://hiroboga.com/?p=961#comment-1076 Douglas, thank you for this moving, beautiful poem. It's left me reflecting on loves past. Leigh-Anne, it's so delicious to read your poems, and to see the arc developing through them. Thank you. .-= Hiro Boga´s last post ... <a href="http://hiroboga.com/blog/sunday-poem/sunday-poem-7/" rel="nofollow">Sunday Poem #7</a> =-. Douglas, thank you for this moving, beautiful poem. It’s left me reflecting on loves past.

Leigh-Anne, it’s so delicious to read your poems, and to see the arc developing through them. Thank you.
.-= Hiro Boga´s last post … Sunday Poem #7 =-.

]]> By: Douglas Buchanan http://hiroboga.com/blog/poems/sunday-poem-7/comment-page-1/#comment-1074 Douglas Buchanan Sun, 30 Aug 2009 21:56:13 +0000 http://hiroboga.com/?p=961#comment-1074 I sit alone in the long evenings And the light of your love burns bright within me. In my mind I see again your flashing smile. Your voice once more is music to my soul, And I am part contented and give thanks For the memories of those our years, And that so-long-ago is yesterday to me. By day I see your grace in another’s perfect movement. Other heads echo dimly the golden glory of your hair. Bright eyes seen briefly in the crowd are very beautiful, And yet are shadows of the two that they recall to me. And there a lovely skin brings memory to my finger tips. So is the time between us filled with you While I await the joy of our reunion. My heart jumps at the light footfall, The laughter floating on the air– So nearly yours–enough to conquer sadness At the closeness of its image to your beauty. And so the time between us lessens and grows greater As I await the ecstasy of recognition When all the years and tears and loneliness Vanish as a whisper and I reach out And touch your hand again. DVB .-= Douglas Buchanan´s last post ... <a href="http://www.gatesofhorn.com/blog/emergency_sos_if_2_2_4_you_may_be_in_trouble" rel="nofollow">Emergency! S.O.S. If 2 + 2 = 4 You may be in Trouble</a> =-. I sit alone in the long evenings
And the light of your love burns bright within me.
In my mind I see again your flashing smile.
Your voice once more is music to my soul,
And I am part contented and give thanks
For the memories of those our years,
And that so-long-ago is yesterday to me.

By day I see your grace in another’s perfect movement.
Other heads echo dimly the golden glory of your hair.
Bright eyes seen briefly in the crowd are very beautiful,
And yet are shadows of the two that they recall to me.
And there a lovely skin brings memory to my finger tips.
So is the time between us filled with you
While I await the joy of our reunion.

My heart jumps at the light footfall,
The laughter floating on the air–
So nearly yours–enough to conquer sadness
At the closeness of its image to your beauty.
And so the time between us lessens and grows greater
As I await the ecstasy of recognition
When all the years and tears and loneliness
Vanish as a whisper and I reach out
And touch your hand again.

DVB
.-= Douglas Buchanan´s last post … Emergency! S.O.S. If 2 + 2 = 4 You may be in Trouble =-.

]]> By: Leigh-Anne Tyson http://hiroboga.com/blog/poems/sunday-poem-7/comment-page-1/#comment-1067 Leigh-Anne Tyson Sun, 30 Aug 2009 14:13:15 +0000 http://hiroboga.com/?p=961#comment-1067 in the quiet stillness of this moment and the next and the next, the rush of understanding comes - comes from where? Small voice speaks Quiet – you reveal the secrets They spill out of the glass in your hand The glass the world is held in You turned it to the side Tipped the balance Quiet, you were waiting there At the door, weren’t you Waiting for the right moment Hand on the latch Like the hand tipping the glass Waiting, waiting to ride through With every ounce of the sea within Pressed against it The thunder in your ears Didn’t bother you, did it? Pounding rhythm of this Swirling inner sea You swimming forward In translucent momentum It was in the question that You found the key – The one, the million that are the same You dared not to ask – out loud Quiet – when the last of the waves Finish their chaotic dance What will be left? ~ la tyson in the quiet stillness of this moment
and the next and the next,
the rush of understanding comes
- comes from where?
Small voice speaks

Quiet – you reveal the secrets
They spill out of the glass in your hand
The glass the world is held in
You turned it to the side
Tipped the balance

Quiet, you were waiting there
At the door, weren’t you
Waiting for the right moment
Hand on the latch
Like the hand tipping the glass
Waiting, waiting to ride through
With every ounce of the sea within
Pressed against it
The thunder in your ears
Didn’t bother you, did it?
Pounding rhythm of this
Swirling inner sea
You swimming forward
In translucent momentum

It was in the question that
You found the key –
The one, the million that are the same
You dared not to ask – out loud
Quiet – when the last of the waves
Finish their chaotic dance
What will be left?

~ la tyson

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