heart poem - the Longmont Shambhala Meditation Group

an evening (Judith and I) with the Longmont, CO, Shambhala Meditation Group
(Buddhism from the teaching/presences of 
Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche, and his son, Mipham, Rinpoche)

deepest thanks to Chris Faiers and John Burke
for this lovely photo of 'Chogy' - 
Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche 













everyone, with the heart of a poet (words and poem, 

signposts from eleven worthy, necessary proponents 

and practitioners of basic goodness). . .

I thought I arrived today                 Alannah

but, no, I was wrong                          Judith

Joko says, “river whirlpool river”       Carol

the seasons of my mind                     Bill

they arrived, did I?                            Eric

but why do I want to arrive, 

anyway?                                             Trudy

our bodies are sacred, we 

should treat them that way                  Richard

our minds are lost, we 

should let them go                             Lee

the scent of honeysuckle                     ayaz daryl

aspen remind me of change                Trudy

Fall, River Valley bull elk whistle,

herding their cow harem                 Cimarron

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

Jo's Tama and my ass't. ed. Frosty, insisting,

'belly rubs and treats for all!'

           



            darylayaz@me.com

            (or)

            darylayaz@gmail.com

Mary Jo Balistreri, and, Chase The Zen Master dog!

Monday's poetry from two of our finest, plus!  a haiga (poem embraced by photo/artwork): here we go!

wrooooof!  from Chase, The Zen Master dog! 
(who shares his home with Chris Faiers/cricket) ...                                     
                                                    (yes, Frosty, a dog)

                      wonderful! wonderful!

                      fresh, fresh snow

                      cleaner than my lazy master's house

                      

What! what ...

brush pile

full of wild smells

poem published by 
Don Wentworth - 
'Issa's Untidy Hut' 

                                                                                                         and, from Mary Jo Balistreri. . .
(with Jo, it's all straight-forward - she has a huge, caring heart)

hummingbirds dart

through sprinkler spray

children's laughter

                                     scent of creosote

                                     after the rain...

                                     dad's uplifted face

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                                                    

ass't. ed. Frosty states, 'what's with dog as poet?'

Frost, we'll just go have an extra treat

                        darylayaz@me.com
                                  or!
                                  darylayaz@gmail.com

so long, friend - Renaissance Man Rex Sexton

 LIFE NOIR

Unknown hours fade to black.      Rex Sexton

above poem from a prior post (3/2/13) about Rex, polymath,
Renaissance Dude, friend. . .

the day after Rex passed on, I was, with great thoughtfulness and graciousness, contacted by Rochelle. . .

life’s weary wander -

a white road lost       Rex Sexton

Tama states,
'we all know Rex is a fine poet, and let's see one of his (many) prize paintings!'

can do, and Heartbreak Hotel seems, well,
more than appropriate. . .

my favorite poem from Rex. . .

                                       Hello.
                                       In a word
                                       Friendship.

the Froster asks, "another art piece by Rex?"


you betcha, Frost, can do. . .



Moon Ladder. . .

and, one last poem from Rex. . .

                The soul is a prism 
                that casts rainbows
                from heaven.

                   

Phynix (and all ass't ed.s)
are in agreement: 
the next rainbow we see 
will be from Rex. . .





Froster, with the final words 'you know what Rex would say now?  
Belly Rubs, Belly Rubs and Treats for all!'


see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen                            
                                                             darylayaz@gmail.com 
                                                             darylayaz@me.com


and, to complete my post, I've wandered into the only coffee shop, Vita Bella, open at this late hour - as I push the Save button a last time, the road-weathered acoustic blue grass musicians playing here finish with
     
                               'I'm just a pilgrim on the road
                                we'll meet again on some bright highway
                                we're just pilgrims on the road'

          

'poetry from within the citadels of ourselves'

'poetry from within the citadels of ourselves'

                             marcus aurelius (sort of - well, at least as inspiration)

'but', asks ass't. ed. the froster, 'did mr marcus have cats?'

yes, frosty, many of the known (and, especially,

unknown) aspects of rome's empire were based on the philosophies of aurelius's cats. . .

and! let's (quickly) move on to poetry from the mighty shoreline of bear creek. . .

from friend dorothy mclaughlin!  editor and fine poet, first to publish one of my poems! 
(she has long since recovered). . .

new earrings
all the mirrors
they'll visit today                      drought
                                          the maple's shadow
                                          shrinking

phynix (ass't. ed. for Peggy Dugan French, of print pub. Shemom - send your poetry to pdfrench@cox.net)
asks, 'did m aurelius's cats wear ear rings?'
umm, I don't really know. . .
'seems important', mumbles phynix. . .



who's the poet wading in the mighty ankle-deep water of bear creek? why, it's charlie mehrhoff!  charlie, please, a poem!. . . 

          Go out to where you must,

          to what fields of this green earth 

         and blue.

                            

          Become so complete with your stillness

         as to witness the symphony 

          of the tall grass as she undulates

with the butterfly’s wing beat.

Exit this world of words

and symbol strewn madness.

Know your heartbeat

to be 

the song.   

and isn't someone beside charlie?
holy smokes, it's don wentworth!
(of 'lilliput review' and
        'issa's untidy hut'!). . .

never again,
never again,
   always


the big picture
sunset, butterfly

from his new, loverly poetry
collection 'yield to the willow'

sam (patricia carragon's muse) 
states 'a third poet is
walking in bear creek!'

it's chris faiers! 
the infamous 'cricket' 
of 'riffs & ripples 
from ZenRiver Gardens!' 

from 'dogku'
by cricket's dog chase
(well, I guess, says sam). . .

wonderful!  wonderful!
fresh, fresh snow
cleaner than my lazy master's house

                                           sniff. . . snuffle
                                           happy days
                                           happy nites

ok, felines and friends, we should close for now - we'll save the poets and/or poems playing in the sand (ok, mud) creekside for the next post (includes 'dream that is not a dream' from elizabeth searle lamb and miriam sagan)

say goodbye!

thelma and callie -
belly rubs for all

savannah - treats for all!

Tama the station master insists roses, roses

for everyone! especially for Jo Balistreri!. . .

and, for Judith! (happy anniversary!)

  

                                    

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen                               

                                              darylayaz@me.com   

                                                               darylayaz@gmail.com