Effort

The walking distance covered today
Is more than yesterday
The weight of creation
Is heavier every day
To bloom and to prune
Is an effort, work is always incomplete
You don’t have to apologize
You will finish it one day.

Why must I write

“There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple ‘I must,’ then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

one hour

“I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring―I wrote my very best poem while sitting on the hen-house.

“How much one can learn in an hour?”

“Perhaps watching someone you love suffer can teach you even more than suffering yourself can.”

-Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle.

note: I just finished reading I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. First published in 1948. A love story. Meta-writing.Very good read. Enjoyable.

hiking a switchback

How do you approach tranquility,
everything is crumbling around you?
Forest and streams are full of resources.
Behind boulders
you will find failures of absolutes.
You will walk in absence of sounds
darkness not filled with hallucinations
“plod on” is a common virtue
stamina of will, be calm,
you are not alone.

When sky closes its windows
you are a frightened soul sobbing into sleep
feel insignificant, tamed and fireless,
drifting into fairytales.

Then you travel and don’t see ghosts
but landscapes and mountains
with indescribable shapes and colors,
walkers singing many songs and stories
the world, a cauldron, sharing a common bond.

Memory sometimes is like a heard conversation
you wonder if it’s real
or like eating watermelon
sweet and mouth-watering.

writing memoir
leapfrogging upwards and downwards
stopping for ice cream

You can start writing a letter
to a lost friend
like stroking the guitar strings
singing a praise or prayer,

like photo-shooting with a stranger
from one street to the next
not knowing if you will have
chicken dumplings or caviar and oysters

You will be all caring
composing a quilt of your past
the present is a daily memoir
how you live, wander and wonder
not tied like a lovely bouquet.

what should a poet do?

“Craft and consciousness matter. But a poet’s attention must be open to what is not already understood, decided, weighed out. For a poem to be fully alive, the poet needs to surrender the protection of the known and venture into different relationship with the subject ⎯ or is it object? both words miss ⎯ of her attention. The poet must learn from what dwells outside of her conceptions, capacities, and even language: from exile and silence.”- Jane Hirshfield

note: the passage taken from: Nine Gates, Entering the Mind of Poetry by Jane Hirshfield