Stirrings of Presence.
Poetry is experiencing something too beautiful to put into words, but trying anyway.
A haiku is a poem written in the most basic way which expresses profound thoughts, feelings, or observations. Limited to just 17 total syllables, ideas must be expressed simply and concisely.
My poetry is inspired by the relationship between the sacred and the profane, concepts of wabi sabi, ichigo ichie, and zen. It has been a way for me to sharpen my awareness of the present moment, for these poems are written only in moments of pure awareness. Those instances where I am struck by something beautiful which would have otherwise been missed had I not been tuned in to my surroundings. Often, the happenings in my poems are quite simple and everyday–a cloud passes by, a leaf falls to the ground, a bird flies near, a flower petal drops. These are not extraordinary moments where something unbelievable happens, but they are points in time that will not be repeated in quite the same way, times when you realize the deeper meaning behind the mundane things we tend to be blind to. The simple beauty of a flowing river or a tree swaying in the breeze can take you out of your own head and into the present, inspiring deeper contemplation about the world around you and your relationship to it.
Capturing the essence of feeling, the imperfection of these perfect moments, these photographs are as much a poem as the haiku that accompanies them.
while the world slumbers fog rolls in like a blanket gently as we dream
overcast morning the dawn is just as brilliant without the sun
on a damp, grey day a bee lands on my window bells ring, and it's gone
dappled light with arms outstretched to the heavens
winding up the hill the road lined with wildflowers no one passes by
moonless night once more we come back to darkness
a bit of magic found in the ordinary everywhere i look
while fallen leaves dance some stubborn February trees still can't let go
moment of wonder we come together in awe this magical place
the ten thousand things arising and returning waves greet the shore
the orchard of life an ancient tree still standing counting down the days
breeze on my back sun in my eyes longing for home
a wise man can soar both with and against the wind carrying the way
sleepy golden marsh tucked in for the evening by the rising tide
from a single seed the truth of understanding will someday bear fruit
the day ends softly a gathering of clouds on the horizon
room 12, mint green walls what am i searching for here? stirrings of presence
darkness falling-- where waves touch the sky indigo
secluded woodland quiet light touches the birch bearing no witness
breathing her last breath waves break on the rocky shore death rattle
sweet mist on the hills hangs in the air like ripe fruit slips through your fingers