even
absence can
be eloquent
what then
is presence,
overwhelming?
Teasing
Tag: photo
Present Moment
Goethe
writes
“look neither
forward or backward
the present alone is happiness”
appreciate infinite value of present moment, its gift
hold off desire to unfold
the next page
smile, say
thank
you.
note: The poetry is a form of Fibonacci sequence poetry.
Last Words
When the music recedes, students return to their dormitories
Some paintings remain unfinished
The finished works are displayed on the walls
The architecture students are looking at them
They are full of interest
Commotions of people walking to the train stations to go to work
Like what the art students are painting
Varied expressions of lines and dots
Different splash of colors
They are stories, encounters, serendipities
In stages, like staircases
Beginnings, varying contributions, dreams
She is passing through different parts of town
In her book tour, giving talks in book stores, libraries
The listeners ask her about writing rituals, sources of her stories
She answers politely, sometimes with passion
She is inspired, thankful and tired.
She tries to recall the lyrics, the songs the students are singing
She hears them in her travels, in her sleep
There are extraordinary things she remembers vividly
Last conversations with friends who have died
Some bewildering questions from the audience
What her daughter told her while hugging her before she left for the airport.
note: The book I finished reading: Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel
Old men, like my grandfather, don’t smell of death
Or lacking in knowledge
But they are determined to keep good posture,
Good balance and weary of falls
They try to maintain a sophisticated conversation
And keep up with family activities
They realize that movements of limbs and wondering mind are essentials:
Walking in the neighborhoods and taking photos of gardens, family dogs, other walkers
They are stones gathering no moss
They are discovering again the enthusiasm for the unfamiliar
They can offer wisdom if you seek one
Go dance with them
It is a renewed exaltation.
They are not martyrs or saints
They are treasures, time honored
Like all lives lived.
Fears
Are there fears we experienced as a child
We carry still as we grow
O, the cries at night, the trembling, alone.
There are some that fade
Others, a few small stones in a pocket
Not mere persuasions but reminders though meek
We were afraid of heights or dark enclosed places.
Occasional thoughts linger
As if attached to a very thin thread,
An illusion of not going away.
note: Mrs. Abstract is happy. My strength has come back though not full yet. I can walk farther now.
A Look
A child looks towards the source of a cry
Stares with awareness
The eyes connect
Interrogation and smiles and shared existence
The meaning multiplies
Like a poem
Musing2
White magnolia
handkerchief tree
-fragrance for the eyes
Abandoned Grocery Cart
Jammed with the rocks at the riverbank
Submerged in water at high tide
Saved by a fisherman brought inland
Now you are with flowers along the walkway
Which journey will I find you again?
You can’t venture on your own.
Will you vanish somewhere
Or drift into oblivion
What will happen if Kierkegaard
or Salvador Dali find you?
I don’t think I will be dancing in strawberry field
I may write about absurdity of abandoned grocery carts.
Perhaps some ideas are astonishing
We think of wild things
Like kissing at the middle of storm
I will not be writing in Russian.
note: The book I am reading: Either/Or by Elif Batuman.
A Letter
Avoidance of annoyances repeatedly
Life remains in narrowed preferences
I know some words to add, some experiences
To relate, must not let them fade away
I open my eyes in the morning
Utter my first intelligent thought
A praise may be or a prayer
To see, not necessarily to understand
Not inquisitive but to experience
Is it too late now to find the reason
For not knowing?
My relationship ends unexpectedly
Without any arguments or strained voices
A decent separation, not devoting time
To keep each other’s attention
The dinner loses the delicious taste
We become monuments to each other.
Sometimes one has to cross a perilous river
To deliver a letter of forgiveness.
note: I finished reading Piranesi by Susanna Clarke and Kant’s Little Prussian Head & Other Reasons Why I Write, an autobiography in essays by Claire Messud.
I’m reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke which I started reading a long time ago but never finished and For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. All these long reads in the time of Covid.
ANYWAY
taken from Diary of a Word Nerd:https://www.juliatomiak.com
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