To thread a needle

It will be difficult to thread a needle

If you are farsighted.

 

He loses his temper and throws the dental floss

He doesn’t want to talk or smile.

 

She doesn’t chase the last word anymore when she talks

She observes the three bees on the rhododendron.

 

He drives in the forest and along the coast

He is calm under the redwood trees.

 

She drops the vase filled with water and flowers on the living room

Her right hand is bleeding.

 

He helps her clean up

They decide to make amends.

 

“Seize the day,” the poet says

Helping others is the crowning praise.

 

It’s wonderful when verb and adjectives are used together

I like crabs dancing under the candle lights.

 

When pronouns drop in , it’s hilarious

All the nouns scatter.

 

They are laughing walking on the beach

Beethoven is a pianist, then a composer.

 

Experience of loss and sad endings are dispersed in life

They are secret ingredients of freedom.

 

She runs alone, alone with her own thoughts

The hardest challenge.

 

Failure, triumph, dried tears, lost tracts of time

In sepia then autumn raging with colors.

 

Embroidery is a sacred craft

We welcome new threads.

The length of day

The day is new, let’s wave and embrace morning

Watch the fronds unfurl from sleep

Sun’s salutation, the first definition.

You are awake, look for the spider

Hungry and watchful and subtle

Experimentations in few moments of being:

A hole on the fence to see a world

Wide, bright, and far reaching

Turning a page, empty, eager to be filled

Words, sketches, and bouncing minds.

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And you think the day is short

Silence

A moment of each day:

My special moment today is reading the blog of GretchenJoanna about her reading-challenge of Japanese literature. I learned about Makoto Fujimura, artist and writer.Link to her blog:literature  

Fujimura wrote a book, Silence and Beauty, based on the writings of Shusaku Endo especially his book, Silence.

I have read Endo’s Silence many years ago and saw the movie adaptation, Silence by Martin Sorcese, recently. I have to thank you for bringing Makato Fujimura and his works. I watched the 7 videos by Fujimura talking about his book, Silence and Beauty. Here is the link:silence

 

 

A moment of each day

Thud, thud, the thudding sound 

of a luggage sliding Inside the car’s  trunk, 

a car driving fast the curves

that’s how my head spins

when I clean the sink of unfulfilled writing promises

I will try again

a new concept of a New Year

to tell a moment of each day

a gathered thought, an instant click of a camera 

not a memorized notion of what a day should be,

maybe a spark of enchantment.

Will it make the day meaningful?

Or trivial?

But questions do not meant to be answered

only understood.

I will begin today.

Note: Like a mantra I walk to the river today. The day is spring-like low 60’s, blue sky, flowers and acacia trees are blooming.

The photos from my mobile phone capture the moment. 

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The Last Word

A word of praise

For a blandest day

Can catapult self confidence

 

Can you have souvenirs

Without going anywhere?

Dimples show when she smiles.

 

The rain comes in January

Do not put you fingers 

In the opening of sea anemones.

 

Lots to remember

She layers them.

One can bleed to death.

 

On the death bed

The most common is regret

All the postponements.

 

In lost conversations

She finds the missing pieces

How the bridges are formed.

 

One can read the sadness

The hardship of reconciling the past

The last word can be God.

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note: The day is sunny, cool, and pleasant with blue skies. I started the day joining the other volunteers to pick up trash on the bike trail and along the railroad tracks of the Wine Train to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. About 2 hours later after I got home I walked to the river.