Musings of a retired teacher
dan, such a good piece of writing. a sweet insight!!! the universe and everything else besides circles inside a poet. it's already there. a poet gets access to it. steven
What do you think? Are poets falsely romaniticized? (referring to the first comment of Steven) Is this hang-over from shaman days and the Romantic poets?Is poetry a deeper view of reality? Do poets see something we can't? Is the mind of a poet mysterious?I think not. Ideas wrapped in poetry or poems are ideas. Images are images. It is just a media. Or am I wrong.
steven, thank you. I think the universe circles inside of everyone; enlightenment is already there for everyone, even bugs, but we're not always aware of it or paying attention.That was one of the points of this poem: that all our communication devices—wired and wireless alike—can serve to hide deeper realities from us. Sometimes we need to sit still, quiet the mind, and simply pay close attention.
Sabio, you ask me questions beyond my capacity to answer. Probably yes to the first two questions. But also, no. I think we would benefit if we paid more attention to poets.Is poetry a deeper view? Deeper than other arts? No, certainly not. Deeper than everdaymind view, yes.Do poets see something we can't? No. They've perhaps seen something and are trying to tell us about what they've seen, hoping we'll see it, too.Is the mind of a poet mysterious? Yes. All mind is mysterious, even everyday mind, at least it is mysterious to me.Poetry is, yes, a medium. It's like a finger pointing to the moon. It's important (and sometimes difficult to remember) to look at the moon, not the finger pointing to it.Most of all, I see poems as expressions of insight that are offered not for argument or criticism, but simply to express and hopefully communicate that insight, and sometimes, perhaps, in the hope that someone will hear and appreciate the communication.
I always love classical haiku--the meter, nature as metaphor--and this one conveys so much feeling, Dan. And to top it off, the echoing photo. Touche and hats off! me ♥
Hey Dan,I think this is an important issue but I will try to be short because I'd wager most your readers agree with you.You said, "Deeper than everdaymind view, yes."I disagree. The "everyday mind" is emotive, analytic and all over the place -- it can express itself in poetry, prose and much more. I strongly feel that putting poetry, in and of itself, as obvious sign of leaving some mundane, perverse mind as a mistake.You said: "a finger pointing to the moon."Argggggh! That is a favorite Zen weasel expression trying to sneak in far more than it should. Poetry is no more a "finger pointing at the moon" than any other express. It is this bias I am addressing.Poetry is a form. Painting is a form -- as are novels , computer programs, essays, dance, debates, songs and wars. Forms have not inherent virtue, no inherent insight and can equally be deceptive or helpful. Poetry is a form to communicate -- either silly confusion, brilliant insight, mundane confusion, simple emotions or lots of other stuff. But it is merely communication (a form), nothing higher, better, more profound or deeper in vision.OK, I am off my soapbox. I should just do my own post on this.That said, it no way negates the fact that I like much of your poetry. (I hope my thoughts are clear -- maybe I should present them in a poem)
Sabio:This doesn't quite scan into 5-7-5 haiku, but it'll do. Perhaps you'll like it as a companion to my original:winter moon needs nowireless communicationto talk to idiots
Thank you, Margaret. I am grateful that you took a moment to express your appreciation for the haiku.
LOL !! You are the man.I am writing a post of Poetry & Buddhism - well, just Poetry, really: coming up in a while. Meanwhile (weird word) here is my muse-inspired spontaneous penetration of deep reality:The general drafts artful plans by destruction;The mathematician chalks out boards of brilliance;The poet sings reams of conjured emotions;While you and I just live day by day![I hope it matches some established poetic format so as to be claimed by some mystic as a potential epiphany. Meanwhile I lay my heart's hope in a ukulele.]
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