One Mind Zen Poetry Issue 1

one mind poetry

The 8th day of the 12th Month

Is when we mark the day Gautama became the Buddha

At One Mind Zen, we observed This auspicious day not with history Or even stories about that day

We celebrated as poets And Dharma comrades Just fully doing what we do

That is going about our lives

Paying attention to every detail Today, mindfully reciting our poems

Our Buddha Nature Was expressed through poems Taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha

There’s snow on the ground in Massachusetts

The stone Buddha doesn’t care Warm palm to warm palm in verse

Ven Myeong Jin Eunsahn

Abbot & Guiding Teacher

One Mind Zen Collective

For Bodhi Day

A special day Beyond beyond gone beyond words Turning directly to the one Who said no days are special But that everyday is good.

Mike Jinji Wood

Buddha came to visit He tossed his keys in the air I found a place to join him

James Kenney

Good morning Shakyamuni

Breeze flutters the leaves

Is it wind or leaves that move Sleep wiped from eyes while Sitting in the morning sun Warm eyes ears nose body mind

Myeong Jin Eunsahn

Myeong Jin Eunsahn

Oh, there it is !

Mind wanders...returns...

It looks for answers

It thinks it knows things

Maybe it does, but at best it's only partial.

Put it down.

No need to figure it out. Oh. There it is!

Cheolsoeng Prajna

Brad Hunter

I met a person who casts no shadow yet freely weaves and wears the myriad colored-robe of autumn

Bird suddenly jumps to the branch near my window, shocking eyes and heart.

I want to become part of what the birds are singing I want to become part of the morning light I want to go where the dead have gone Sit on the grass so still That the dew comes to rest on me in pristine drops And I become part of the earth

Robert Koho Epstein

I go from one place to another leaving hardly a traceJust now I walked through the chilly street With flower blossoms falling all around meIn the high wind they flew by And were goneA dizzying disappearing act.

Koho Epstein

Robert

Sneaking a View of Cherry Trees

To catch the cherry trees in full bloom from my own window.

On an angle, leaning back in the chair, so many blossoms mix with the reflectionlike a clear cup of pink carnations in the sheer glass. Then a breeze comes up and the flower petals whirl And that's the one and only time, The only chance there ever is To see the wind.

Robert Koho Epstein

To lie still in a field and become like the flowers, To lie in a bed and dream of the cold clear rivers.

Robert Koho Epstein

Trzynastozgłoskowiec's

A

of Moments

: On Buddha's Awakening Day

Record

A hug and a fall through infinite space, After a sip of water this body becomes a foreign embellishment, On a New York Street, in rush hour traffic, I recognize everyone as an old friend, and every one of them says hello and smiles, unheard of in New York City. A whorl of energy captures me and faces become transparent and dissolve in light.

At another time Mu spreads infinitely wide to embrace my father's death. And a tired mother on a New York street is revealed as my unknown best friend and I weep for her and her cold, wet child.

At a birthday dinner, my friend and I become unified in a high samadhi of shared food to the annoyance of his family.

Later, merging with the vegetable lady, her body and face becomes my body and face, and I am faceless with joy. Another time my body and mind becomes like a shell And something else is enjoying the ride. Alone with a koan Hakuin suddenly appears intimately close like an old uncle. I walk outside and merge with the sky, And there is nothing but connections throughout the heavens.

Robert Koho Epstein

Myeong Jin Eunsahn:

All day

Carefully untangling lights Is it that one bulb is out Or that 49 are lit?

peel back the gold from the altar Buddha there is nothing within

Every now and then I think I know something But then it passes An exhaled breath

Brier Haengdal Citta

Brier Haengdal Citta

opening this pen new green leaves so bright black ink

TEA WAY ~ for Ryōshū Yoshida

Quietly savoring a few words inkbrushed on a scroll that say no more than we can hear.

Solitude is how you hear everything empty

Scott Watson

As aware of nothing as the day I was born and knowing now why.

Life is not unsayable we just don't know how to let it speak.

When wisdom and stupidity are one I don't know

Scott Watson

So I goes into this diner in Jersey. Place I often stop along my route. I ain't puttin' it's name down here onaccounta I don' want no tourist crowds standin' outside waitin'.

Who da hell do I see but Bodhidharma. Geez he gets around don't he. I ast him if he's drinkin' tea, but he just bats the eyelashes he woulda had if he hadn't torn 'em off long ago.

'En he's recitin' to himself some Buddhist mumbo jumbo and I tells him Ey! teach me the lyrics I'll sing along. It's got a certain rhythm to it but I don' wanna get into that onaccounta I might lose my American soul 'en cops might tase me or sumpn. Or I might freak out like in the Reefer Madness movie. Bodhidharma is getting up to leave so I says to him Ey! Mr. Dharma! Tell me sumpn' profound before ya go willya. So this Bodhidharma fella, he gimme a look o' great compassion.

I looks at my cup and sees it's empty. Scott Watson

Malintha Hwamin Citta

no special place to go yet the clouds change form for this empty world

bow after bow this world not good, not bad a peacock's call Buddha has the moon for a pillow here incense burning nothing to attain

Malintha Hwamin Citta

letting go of thoughts falling eaves

I roam this life in another name fresh plucked thyme

when all things are tasteless this breath in and out

Malintha Hwamin Citta

the gates on fire

when can we be this close to peace sake spilling on tattered robes and chrysanthemums so slow is that last drop of red wine the last hell being the last hell being drinking out of the moon my shoulders offer the many blossoms to take each home

Malintha Hwamin Citta