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Mr. P.’s Zen
I sat za zen,
we sat zen za,
we drank many healths
to Mr. Zan.
There was nothing at all left
of this day’s work.
Poems on the topic: meditation
Poems on the topic “meditation” on Poets.by.
Zazen
morning Zen
I would be a pear
on her mat
Swimming
in the littered kitchen
rubbing dirty pots and hot
i think of swimming
still cold dark-green water
where I move somehow
(a poor swimmer)
then of that other
plunging rising
from the messy heat
of pots food talk without
leaving them -
meditation
but how do that
rising plunging while
scrubbing hot
how love my pots my
Three Deep Breaths
Three deep breaths, palms together,
Here in her room, or elsewhere, she may
Rise and take. A habit she has formed,
Even as most of her ideas, ideals,
Even her so cherished findings, hard found,
Deducted, inducted, reasoned, debated, polished,
Even those most like faith, as taught her,
Even those most like science, measured, observed,
Peeled one by one: a human desert, she.
By three deep breaths, she centers somehow: how?
Reality itself a question she's no longer asking,
Eating and sleeping themselves provisional.
All she bothers to call caring is now to listen
To breath, room sounds, outside sounds, to
Her friends, their worries unpacked, their voices
Spending both hope and pain. She bows.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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