Through slanting doors and broken windows
odd furniture in dim rooms
old books and roses rotting with age
I follow you,
charts and crumpled maps and paper
glitter like a lost hope–
Sudden sky and wide water
reeds along a shore
under a silver willow you call to the other side.
No limb or vine to hold my feet
my boyhood swept away
to a green recess of memory
nothing to pull me back
only rock and sand, sky and air bathed in amber light,
Peace, I am with you
looking in your old eyes, stretching out a hand
sinking in a river of night
transparent stones on the bottom of a lucid pool
I glide in bright shadows
in and out our one and separate selves
All Photos by Rayn Roberts
Apparition by RR
Flowers, candles, incense
Outer symbols of inner realities!
The smile from the center
of the heart
Shines in all directions, outward…
The Poem appeared first in “The Fires of Spring” a book of poems
by Rayn Roberts 2002
Easier it is to lift
a ten ton boulder
on a mountain
than to calmly sit
and put a collar
on an unruly mind.
Rayn Roberts 2017
When the sun goes down
and darkness deepens
when candles burn out
around a Buddha,
is a Buddha still a Buddha
if no light reveals a Buddha?
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
What is there in the end but forgiveness
And forgiving one’s self.
What is regret when we cannot go back
To change anything done?
We only move forward
To more change, the slow breakdown
Of the body, aging and death,
There is that, of course, but
The quicker one can do it the better:
Live so the need to forgive is less and less.
It is a gift we give, and when we can, is priceless.
Rayn Roberts 2017
For for Mary Leary
The cracked world strangely abstract
Flowers panic in the window box
Crows eat the petals of mourning
Unpeaceful Xanax morning,
I should meditate, but this is fine
Poetry calms the storms of afternoon until
A gathering of friends
SOMA Heads looking for a fix in my room
Invisible bandito on the balcony
Nicking my hash
He came to prop me up
Then took my stash, the bastard!
Later, a Las Vegas Cocktail Open Mic
Colorless as a dry heave
Jimmy Jazz is shouting in my head,
“Fuck you and you and you
if you call this is a poetry reading!
This is not a poetry reading!”
This bleeding stuck pig poetry
Banging on a toy-piano poetry
Just throw some glitter on
And slap it to your frig like a cute magnet.
Wait… from of the heat of hell, genius often rises
And hey, it’s all about self-expression, isn’t it, well, isn’t it?