simplicity.

simplicity is

a bite of

khaao suai

plain white rice.

 

simplicity is

a smile

shared.

 

simplicity is

this moment.

 

simplicity is

lying down

eyes closed

mind blank

breathing.

 

simplicity is

what it is.

 

simple.

 

 

sometimes I begin to crave after something more; the problem is, that something more never ceases to be elusive and the cravings just grow stronger, leaving the possessed unsatisfied…

sometimes I need to remind myself to live simply enjoy the small pleasures and moments that I have right in front of me because it is all beautiful and it is all impermanent and I am privileged to be alive and healthy and here right now…

if I envision life as a bearer of gifts, then let each moment be a present of the present; appreciation, gratitude – I always come back to these two because they ground me in reality and love, the way I wish to lead my life…

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on a dreaded sunny day

“on a dreaded sunny day”

 

a butterfly

or two, or many

ubiquitous

appearing, there

 

I glanced

a white one fluttering near a new bloom

a red one darting across my forward path

a blue one dead upon the tarmac 

 

so beautiful

in light, in shadow

ephemeral

sojourning, there

 

I observed

one immersed in “wild ecstasy”

another driven to “mad pursuit”

the last finally in “beauty’s truth”

 

a world in need

of pause, of presence 

diaphanous

transforming, there

 

I became

 

*inspired by English poet John Keats and English rock band The Smiths

March is for International Women’s&Poetry Day

I missed honoring both March 8 and March 21, but here is a poem I wrote about the moon which I feel symbolizes and commemorates both:

written 01.31.18 – revised on 03.19.18

On the eve of the blood moon, I ponder the Moon and her maternity. Tonight, a mischievous light bathes the Earth, a pink hue pervading the darkness to come. Nature, in all her forms, swells in birth of the Evening’s dawn – birds sound their choruses, roosters preen and peck, flowers stretch as light fades…And now the remaining light bends: blue refracts outward, while red oozes forth, a bloody soldier staining the field in the name of universal beneficence.  

 

The moon appears

A yellow orb swelling

Like a woman’s bulge

 

I feel her aches and pains

Her craters endured

Her majesty underestimated

 

She looks a barren mistress yet

She wields a powerful will

To pull the tides and push the winds

 

The moon mirrors

A yellow sun’s burning

Like raindrops reflect a rainbow

 

I feel her yearnings and desires

Her beauty broadcast

Her duty bound

 

She looks an autonomous ornament yet

She is caught in a cyclical cycle

To wane into darkness and wax into remembrance

 

Once, a child, torn from the womb of Earth’s soil

Now Queen over the unruly oceans and womankind

They are captives of her recurrent spells

Chained to sails, driven by the winds she controls

A mad mother of circular caprice

 

Also, an outcast, tethered to her own fated toil

Only to tour the Earth’s outer rim for eternity

Constantly reminding those wells of

Earthbound creatures, who covet the role of controls

She is no more sovereign than her subjects