Through sandy, muddy, rocky creek,
Silted, crudded, hard to speak,
My heart was heavy, worn, and cramped,
I needed someplace I could camp.

Nature spoke, I took the chance
To venture out with shield and lance
A trek that took me into night
Parched and filthy, sworn to fight

Until I thought I found a clue,
A mountain peak I thought I knew,
A place of peace to meditate,
With quiet winds and tranquil lakes.

Was this the place I sought to reach?
The one where Wukong* bit the peach?
Still, relaxed, no words to say
Pesky thoughts were miles away.

 

*Wukong refers to the Monkey King from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West. He was cast out of heaven for causing various troubles, including eating peaches he wasn’t supposed to, and later cultivated himself into a Buddha.

Colin Fredericson is a writer living in New York.

“Pure Lotus” by Zhengping Chen. Description from Zhenshanrenart.com: The woman in this painting practices the sitting meditation, the fifth exercise of Falun Gong. Lotus flowers blooming around her indicate the purifying effect of the meditation on both mind and body.

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4 Responses

  1. Corey Browning

    Nice poem. My favorite line was “nature spoke, I took the chance”. I think it’s always unique to have a poem in which one could learn something new, in this case about wukong. Well done!

    Reply
  2. Durlabh Singh

    CHILDREN PLAY.

    The children play in the sunshine
    In a nascent dawn born of baited bliss
    Three pronged foot webs in the sand
    Of creatures hungry in the meddler nights.

    The dreams that hold immensity of night
    Forms sound- sculpted in zones of skies
    Strivings born of the search for unknown
    Wandering wind in passing left a message.
    Shorn of chains in straining culprits of hill
    Robbers of lives constrained by prouder will.

    The children play in the moonlight
    In nutant nights born of burdened bliss
    Three panthers striding across the plains
    Casting their shadows under starry hiss.

    Reply
  3. Durlabh Singh

    CASKETS.

    Curtains, carpets or the door
    Pens, books and the floors
    Pictures or corners of the rooms
    Trident accumulations of memory
    Caskets of tear drops in thrown
    Harkening to intimacies of alone.

    Into the commencements of skies
    Jewelled keys to the wayward heart
    Lanterned magic for scattered dreams
    Adding necessary dimensions to infinity.

    Girdling explorations that deepen
    Gateway to escape from the paltered pelf
    Immensity or the luminosity of the dreams
    Forgotten verses for some still striving self.

    Reply

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