This is a running series of short poems I have been writing with the theme of sound. I figured I'd put them all in one thread. So here goes. Sound #1 Boiling water flows into the tea cup — A thousand Bodhisattvas chant. Sound #2 34 dreamers shuffle down wintry streets. The wind can't whistle out our candle.
Supple as a wish, the tendrils of her song sprinkled the sky like a stained glass meteor shower. Astors and arabesques splashed in puddles of copper; and trills of blue and citrus made wanton love in E flat major, exploding into night, a trail of nameless colors warbling in their wake. I met her at the library today. She laughed and I named the colors of her eyes.
Those three I have posted already. I have some new ones, I just realized I left my notebook at home. Will post a few more tomorrow.
In the soft "shush" of orange segments coming apart, the world becomes silent. All knots are unraveled and the heart is freed.
In the sun-bathed rooftop cafe in Dharamsala, the music of the town are hushed, and yet heightened by the vastness of the Himalayan valley and the still, dignified presence of the mountains. I can hear the murmur of a soft stream of Europeans talking about Dzogchen. In the distance, a carpenter makes temples and toilets. A playful breeze tickles my shopping bags making them giggle. Birds whose names I do not know circle overhead, chanting sutras and tracing yin-yangs in the sky. How I would love to join them, gliding through the valley with anonymous wings. The last wisp of early morning mist is still clinging to the mountain's apron strings afraid to be carried away by the wind. I chew ravioli in the sunshine and write you poems stained with tomato sauce. I hope they made you smile like a beautiful Himalayan morning.
