zen moment

Crow on the neem tree tells me
there’s a visitor at the door

Cloud in my terrace this morning
in the water drained from the pots

I am subletting my mind
wisp of smoke rents a corner

I hang my memories there
on clothesline to sun out the mold

Crushed dream – zinnia in the pot
the basil sings its dirge

Dance of flame when I close my eyes
singes my iris, turns it black

Fishing banana slices from oatmeal
sun slants, draws patterns on my feet

Apple peel on the table
yellow brown edges of faded hope

Muezzin’s prayer call at crack of dawn
flower lies on the ground in submission

Poem A Day

Inspired by Hanshan’s beautiful lines from ‘Cold Mountain’
I write this poem: and yet,
In this poem there is no Zen


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s