time forgets to tick

New Years Day, 2016 – according to the calendar. Three micro-poems which might or might not be haiku. I offer them as they landed. The first one is a selfie and makes me chuckle. The last – well, if you’ve experienced an Australian morning you’ll know about the predawn antics of the rowdy kookaburras… In between, a quiet reflection on – how it is.

 

Gerrit Dou: Old Woman with a Jug at Window

 

xliv

the caged bird long flown

an old woman waters flowers

time forgets to tick

 

xlv

abandoned at last

by meaning and purpose

I sit with my tea

 

xlvi

3am – seems they know

it’s the dawn of a New Year

kookabloodyburras

 


Image: Gerrit Dou, Old Woman with a Jug at Window, c 1660 – 1665
Oil on Panel, 28.3 x 22.8
Kunsthistoriches Museum, Vienna


 

we are prodigals by some divine default

316

when this
spacious
no-thingness
becomes home-base
(which it always has been, and yet …
we are prodigals by some divine default)

the view
over the dream-drama called a life
clears

it doesn’t mean you know what’s going to happen;
it means the absence of needing to know
and the presence of an eager, innocent
anticipation

it doesn’t mean you understand the meaning of life;
it means absence of a need for ultimate meaning
and the presence of ceaseless curiosity:
wonderment

it doesn’t mean your life-map and context necessarily change;
it means your relationship with everything changes:
what used to need analyzing, fixing, healing,
is no longer a problem

see, you’ve dissolved into this
innocence and wondering and relating
that a tiny thought-form
held you separate from
(apparently)

one tiny thought-form!

dear wee trumped-up me

~

the delight of a ‘be’ set free

70

what if the little verb ‘to be’
woke up one fine morning
and realized that it was a homeless orphan?
what if its job description had been
modified overnight without consultation?
what if it was now relieved from its
personal applications, redundant,
only useful as a conventional
figure of speech?

no one to be asleep
no one to be wakened
no world to be an illusion
no void to be empty
no emptiness to be filled
no form to be found
no happiness to be chased
no suffering to be escaped
no purpose to be discovered
no meaning to be understood

what a shock that would be for a very busy ‘be’
after a lifetime of endlessly and earnestly
running around doing its determined duties
and always avoiding that inevitable destiny
of coming to a halt and remembering
how to simply be

recovery would take a while
but it too would come to pass as effortlessly
as bloom those flowers
that neither spin nor sew

 

oh the delight of a ‘be’ set free!

~