‘Meditating’ by Colin Fredericson The Society May 12, 2015 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 4 Comments 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. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related 4 Responses Corey Browning May 12, 2015 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 Colin Fredericson June 5, 2015 Thank you Corey Reply Durlabh Singh May 13, 2015 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 Durlabh Singh May 14, 2015 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 Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.