The hostile multitudes are vast as space –
What chance is there that all should be subdued?
Let but this angry mind be overthrown
And every foe is then and there destroyed.
— Shantideva
This Angry Mind
It Is Through Them….
Whenever I catch sight of others,
By thinking, “It is through them,
That I will reach awakening,”
I’ll look with sincerity and love.
– Shantideva, The Way of the Bodhisattva
On Giving….
All the joy the world contains has come through wishing happiness for others
All the misery the world contains has come from wishing pleasure for oneself.
–Shantideva
A Bullfigher
The old man shuffles.
He’s worn out the floor.
His feet are flat.
His back is sore.
He shuffles to the kitchen,
Then to the back door.
No one’s ever there.
They don’t come anymore.
The hallway is empty.
The children have grown.
No yelling, or laughing.
No kites to be flown.
He turns and remembers,
All the beauty he’s known.
Oh, the years have gone quickly.
Now, he’s all alone.
To the front room he shuffles.
There, above the divan,
Is a picture of a matador.
He once was that man.
He was bright, he was brave.
He was handsome, and tan.
Now, no one knows him.
He’s his only living fan.
He shuffles to the bedroom.
He’s weary today.
He looks out the window,
Sees the trees gently sway,
Then he lays himself down.
Watches a fly buzz his way.
Ah! Another bullfight!
He can hear the music play…
CAWatson2009
Until You See…
The minds eye,
It sees so fine,
Whenever we,
Let it unwind.
It tells us stories,
Of long ago.
It tells us of
The ebb and flow.
Follow through
Your inward dreams,
To find the light,
That brightly beams.
You may flounder,
In the mist…
Until you see,
All that you’ve missed.
CAWatson05/06/09
The Poetic Sway…
Out of the mind, comes the poetry,
That flows through the fingertips,
In such a tingling way.
While, the heart holds the mystery,
That makes the body gently sway.
CAWatson
11/05/2009
Unhappiness…
“All man’s miseries derive from not being able to sit quietly in a room alone”
– Blaise Pascal
Silvery Moons…
Ahh, in and out,
Of life’s lagoons,
We wane and wax,
As do silvery moons.
Each wanting more,
Then we may hold.
Each wanting love,
That is strong and bold.
CAWatson09/24/2009
Purple Sage…
He had purple sage in his saddle bag,
It was a strange thing to see.
He also had character and ethics,
Those are important to me.
He walked straight to my park bench.
Then he snuggled right down.
This man was making a ‘move’ on me,
Right here in the center of town.
I can still hear his low voice,
His words were something like this,
“If you’re new to these parts,
I’d be proud to show you around, Miss.”
I had a cowboy sitting besides me.
This was a very strange day.
I was shocked, yet so delighted,
My mind didn’t know what to say.
My voice finally poured out,
“Thank you, that’s so kind of you.”
While my heart eased its racing,
I frantically searched for what to do.
Then he stood up abruptly,
Kindly reached for my hand.
My knees were so weak,
I was fearful to stand.
He walked me down main street.
Telling me of its riddled past.
Then, he took me to dinner,
The day flew by so fast.
He was a true Waddie,
A drifting hired hand.
His heart was as big as Texas,
He was an amazing man.
He told me stories of sunshine,
Stories of crippling rain.
The beauty of a new calf,
Then some times of death and pain.
He told me of the blue skies.
The sweat running down your back.
The ice cold winter mornings,
When a guy eats a second stack.
The days are good and bad,
As most days usually are.
But there’s ethics to his living,
That the city’s lost, so far.
It’s a simple type of living.
It’s doing what you should.
It’s taking care of critters,
It’s chopping and stacking wood.
There aren’t any games about it.
They do what needs to be done.
The hours aren’t always easy,
Yet, there’s still time for fun.
He said he’d soon be leaving,
He said he’d be back in sweet May.
He said he might even settle down,
If I’d share another day….
CAWatson09/05/09
Sing To Me, Dear Jezabell…
Tell me of vile old men
With hearts so cold.
Their pudgy fingers,
Hoarding all the gold.
They give you diamonds,
In the light of the moon,
Their wives sleep restless,
In another room.
Tell me stories
Of how they build and burn.
How they use the people,
From whom they learn.
How they make an empire,
Out of others souls,
How their greed and lust,
Oozes out their pores.
Tell me how,
We can bring them down.
Let me watch them in,
Their own greed drown.
CAWatson08/20/2009
