Author photo by artist, Walter Bakowski
Showing posts with label zen poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label zen poem. Show all posts

Monday, March 1, 2010

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Times for drinking tea in China

When you’ve bargained well at the market

When you’ve cleared stones from a field

When sheltering from rain

When the horse you’ve tethered quietens

When resting by a riverbank

When a stream’s fish resist your baited hook and shining lures

When envious of a neighbour’s larger herd of goats.

When dreaming of leaving your village, never to return.

 

When the landlord visits

When remembering lean years, the selling of family heirlooms to buy food

When the midwife has left, her good work done

When a fox has been amongst your chickens

When a lost sheep is found, bleating in a ditch

When you’ve repaired your bicycle, brushed the dirt from your knees

When you’re the only one awake in the dormitory

When far from home.  

 

When thinking about what your parents taught you

When thinking about what you’re had to learn for yourself

When you’ve paid off a debt

When trying to understand a relative

When you’ve paced the room for too long

When discussing the afterlife

When the fog lifts from the path you’ve taken

When your tea canister is almost empty.


(from Beneath Our Armour)   

 

 

 

A cup of water, Suzhou, October 1945


The cup of water

accepts

rain

the wind

a leaf leaving its mother.

 

It has heard

husbands and generals give orders,

grandparents talk of gods and ancestors,

children conversing with a friend or sorcerer

whom no adult can see.

 

Set

on bench or table

 it hears

 the swish of a broom,

 a cat scratching at a closed door,

 the clock complaining

 that it’s only a clock,

 a button torn from a lover’s robe

 roll across a bedroom floor.

 

The cup of water is

 raised to the lips of

 a monk,

 a fisherman,

 a fortune teller,

 an orphan.

 

 The cup of water waits

 to be refilled,

 to be of use

 or forgotten.

 

 It waits for footsteps,

 the nearness of a hand.

 

 * This poem was commissioned by the Victorian Government as part of a gift to Jiangsu Province, China, honouring their sister-state friendship.