Friday, May 11, 2012

Going home

 

From the bell rock the Tao chimes,

‘Away’

 

Cherry blossom swirls

from an ocean of song.

 

The wake shrinks and fades.

Rhum and Skye pass Starboard,

 

But to Port a shining, widening way leads to the horizon,

most brilliant.

 

Going home.

 

 

  

 

 

Rhum and Skye are Scottish islands. They crumble and are washed away.

10 Comments:

Anonymous Virgilio Gavia said...

a longing. the intensity of that longing to journey inward. a beauty after another beauty. a lightness of being. nice poetry, John.

1:28 pm  
Anonymous Tamara M said...

(((*John*)))

2:44 pm  
Anonymous see drum said...

enjoyed this. publish more. when you have the mood and strength. is what we have, the beginning, the middle and the end. Home is all of this and so much more. Going Home. enjoyed this.

4:43 pm  
Anonymous see drum said...

I am back. Because, you inspire me and give greater expression to the small things I do.

Listening to American baseball on the computer/radio, no time to sit around and watch tv, but

made time when...Prince Charles gives the weather report in Scotland.

delightful add on to a blog about, being married to a queen. Amuses me.

to have such delightful people around me like, John the Barman.

was fun. thanks for coming by. My blog. cheers. trust all is well with you, under your tree and off to edge of edgy civilization, away from the city. will heal you. be well.

9:35 pm  
Anonymous John Pendrey said...

Thanks for coming back. You picked up on 'home', and fairly so, because I put it there, but its not right.
It is a euphemism for death. Euphemism is not what I wanted. I am looking for real hope. The hope of a bright horizon, the left behind wake, the imagination of cherry blossom and a singing ocean.

I recently gave a positive spin to death by quoting an Emily Dickenson poem on facebook. This was very upsetting to some of my family and has left me isolated. In hindsight and after reading some of Elisabeth Kubler Ross, 'On Death and Dying' I realise the first help to a dying person is to listen to them.

Please read my poem authentically as:

From the bell rock the Tao chimes,
‘Away’

Cherry blossom swirls
from an ocean of song.

The wake shrinks and fades.
Rhum and Skye pass Starboard,

But to Port a shining, widening way leads to the horizon,
most brilliant.

7:33 am  
Anonymous John Pendrey said...

I have just skimmed through a collection of essays on 'Death, Dying and Bereavement' Ed. by D Dickenson and there is no mention of what to me is most essential, the individual perception of death as depicted by so many poets particularly the romantics. I find such ideas help enrich my own approach to the mystery of death. I give two examples:

BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP FOR DEATH
by: Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.
We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—
Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—
Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—

A PAUSE
by Christina Georgina Rossetti

They made the chamber sweet with flowers and leaves,
And the bed sweet with flowers on which I lay;
While my soul, love-bound, loitered on its way.
I did not hear the birds about the eaves,
Nor hear the reapers talk among the sheaves:
Only my soul kept watch from day to day,
My thirsty soul kept watch for one away:--
Perhaps he loves, I thought, remembers, grieves.
At length there came the step upon the stair,
Upon the lock the old familiar hand:
Then first my spirit seemed to scent the air
Of Paradise; then first the tardy sand
Of time ran golden; and I felt my hair
Put on a glory,and my soul expand.

10:50 am  
Anonymous Virgilio Gavia said...

Hi John, i just recently bought a book by Roger Housden titled, "Ten Poems to Say Goodbye." Check this out.

12:58 pm  
Anonymous John Pendrey said...

Thanks to you Vergavia I have read so many poems tonight. I read the introduction to "Ten Poems......" and looked into all the poets. Jane Hirshfield has an online collection of 22 poems about spirituality:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/article/178390

Hear is one from her.

Untitled Shaman Song

The great sea
frees me, moves me,
as a strong river carries a weed.
Earth and her strong winds
move me, take me away,
and my soul is swept up in joy.

Uvavnuk (Iglulik Eskimo, 19th c)

[translated by Jane Hirshfield]

and another ending:

............I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.

Jack Gilbert

10:40 pm  
Anonymous John Pendrey said...

I was passionate,
filled with longing,
I searched
far and wide.

But the day
that the Truthful One
found me,
I was at home.

Lal Ded (Kashmir, 14th c.)

[translated by Jane Hirshfield]

11:05 pm  
Anonymous Virgilio Gavia said...

the beauty of the book, Ten Poems to Say Goodbye, lies not only in the featured poems but also in the insightful interpretation of Roger Housden. you can check-out his website: rogerhousden.com

2:49 am  

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