Two monks returning to a monastery in the evening
It had rained
Puddles of water had collected on the road
At one place a beautiful woman
Was unable to cross the road because of a puddle
The elder monk lifted and carried her across
Leaving her on the other side; then went his way
Later that evening, the younger monk approached
“Sir, we cannot touch women.”
The elder said, “Yes, brother.”
“Then why did you carry that woman on the road today?”
The elder smiled
“I left her on the road; why are you are still carrying her?”
Zen Lesson ~ Anon
Edited to Poetic form by Rayn Roberts
I had my annual physical today and all was well.
The Doc. asked if I had any concerns, I said
“I need a strong pain killer for a broken heart.”
He laughed, but I said, “I’m serious.
Nothing but booze helps and that gives me a hangover.
Can’t you give me something for it?”
He said, “Look man, at sixty five
You’ve only just started a difficult walk
Down the senior path and you haven’t seen anything yet!
My advice is enjoy the scenery.”
I wanted to punch him, but his words hit me harder.
— Wasn’t it Harry Truman who said
“I never gave them hell. I just told them the truth
And created it for them.” Or words to that effect?
If I spoke from the heart and you could hear
You would ride the sound
Back to the beginning and see who you really are.
If I spoke from the heart, my tears would be a river
Running into the sea, an Ocean of sweetest water.
If I spoke from the heart, my joyful laughter
Would fill the universe
And ring the galaxies like a wind chime
If I spoke from the heart, you would hear my voice call
From time past, present and to come
All our wounded children– It would heal them, every last one
And the world, if ever it were, would be whole again.
Photo by Rayn Roberts
for Fred Longworth
The pure energy of choice, the exercise
Of wisdom and will between the extremes
Of hatred and love, apathy or action, war
Or art, the painful year, a joyful moment,
Only mind dreaming our future into being:
All that is made by man, woman or child
Every toy, house, bridge, bullet or bomb
Was once an idea given birth in the mind.
It may look like we take one step forward
Three back, but a forward step is always
The greater distance in dreamtime, mind is
Forever dreaming forward into the future.
Poem first appeared in Of One and Many Words / Poetic Matrix Press
The future never arrives on time
When it does
It’s not what I expect:
A walk in the park,
A punk grrrl
In pink Mohawk
Lifts her green skirt
Shows me some blue bush…
Runs off laughing, I laugh too.
I guess she wanted to shock me
Give me a thrill, I don’t know.
I walk on
To a dumbstruck bar and grill
Forcing back a confusion
I grin and think
It’s a fucked up world, but fun still
Rayn Roberts 2016
There is only blue above, sky so deep I feel it
Untouched by cloud, fog, lightning, rain
Time cannot enter, age cannot alter
The memory of doors flying open, children
Racing from the party, red, yellow, green
Bright balloons trailing on strings
Wild mustard on skin and hair as we run under
The endless sky of childhood we are
All the energy of summer, mind free of birth
Work, war, fear, death, darkness
A dream in slow motion, a feeling of the heart
Moving from despair to hope, ignorance
To knowing, then deeper, a wellspring of peace
Where one drinks and drinks to the fullness of joy.
Rayn Roberts 2012