Archive for the ‘Other poems’ Category

William Stafford—A Course in Creative Writing

January 15, 2011

A Course in Creative Writing

They want a wilderness with a map—
but how about errors that give a new start?—
or leaves that are edging into the light?—
or the many places a road can’t find?

Maybe there’s a land where you have to sing
to explain anything: you blow a little whistle
just right and the next tree you meet is itself.
(And many a tree is not there yet.)

Things come toward you when you walk.
You go along singing a song that says
where you are going becomes its own
because you start. You blow a little whistle—

And a world begins under the map.

—William Stafford

Also see William Stafford—You and Art

William Stafford—Just Thinking

January 15, 2011

Just Thinking

Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.

Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot—peace, you know.

Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.

This is what the whole thing is about.

—William Stafford

William Stafford—Ask Me

January 15, 2011

Ask Me

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

—William Stafford

See a cosmic expression of how the river relates to Hafiz’s life in his poem, A River Understands, in my year-end post Winding up the year with inspiration from Hafiz.

See other poems by William Stafford posted here.

UPDATE (May 1, 2018): A little over seven years since posting this poem, I found a video of him reading it. William Stafford was a guest speaker at the City Club of Portland on July 25, 1986. He spoke about writing and teaching, read some of his poems, and answered questions. The video, listed as You Must Revise Your Life, the title of his new poetry book at the time, was the first book I had ever read of his. It opened up a whole new world of possibilities to me as a writer. He concluded with reading Ask Me. It’s one of my favorite Stafford poems along with The Way It Is, You and Art, When I Met My Muse, Something That Happens Right Now, and others posted on my blog, including the last poem he wrote the day he died, “Are you Mr. William Stafford?”.

Henry Lyman interviewed William Stafford for NPR’s series, Poems to a Listener, later posted on YouTube. Stafford reads several of his poems, including Ask Me. The wonderful discussion that follows this poem is about how Stafford turns “mistakes” into lines of poetry.

I later found him read Ask Me at The Poetry Center at Passaic County Community College’s Distinguished Poets Series in 1986.

Being in Nature—a gift from a tree

October 20, 2010

We often hear about the benefits of being in nature. I remembered an experience I had with a tree when I went for a winter walk with a friend on the University Endowment Lands in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada during the mid-1990s.

I stopped in front of a particular tree to admire its intricate bark structure up close. I felt a ray of loving attention come from the tree into my heart-mind with these words: “the realness of natural things, the nearness of you.” It was an unexpected intimate experience and I quickly wrote the words down for further exploration. The next morning, I rewrote them as a two-line stanza, and then sequential stanzas naturally unfolded sharing its wisdom. It was as if I had been given a creative seed and it sprouted into a poem.

This gift from the tree was much appreciated. The experience reiterated what Mary Oliver described in her poem, Praying. It was a “doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.” It also reminded me of what Mary Oliver told Krista Tippett in an interview, that attention is the beginning of devotion.

I later titled the poem Being in Nature, implying a double meaning for the word, being, from both sides of the experience. Its sequel, trees, was about the nature of trees, and what we can learn from them.

Being in Nature
a gift from a tree

The Realness of Natural Things
The nearness of you

The Beauty that Nature Brings
When seeing is true

The Silence that Inward Sings
When hearing is clear

The Harmony Between all Beings
It exists right here!

© Ken Chawkin

More poems about trees

See trees—a poem about the nature of trees, a sequel to Being in Nature—a gift from a tree. Both written mid-1990′s during winter in Vancouver, BC. What Do Trees Do? Something to think about was written when I was living in North Vancouver.

CRYSTAL MORNING was written in Fairfield, Iowa in the late 1980s.

Pine Cone Trees was written in Houston, Texas in the mid-1990s.

Willow Tree – a tanka – from a tree’s perspective followed by Friendship – another tree tanka were written in May and August 2010, years after I had returned to Fairfield, Iowa.

See Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, is a lesson on attention, receptivity, listening and writing.

An early encounter with nature inspired my creativity. It turned into my first published poem, which won an award: ODE TO THE ARTIST, Sketching Lotus Pads at Round Prairie Park.

UPDATE: Reading “Being in Nature” on Let Your Heart Sing

I read ‘Being in Nature: A Gift from a Tree’ on ‘Let Your Heart Sing’ radio show #93: “John Stein’s Interview + Environmental Songs.” The poem completed that show, which first aired during the last week of May 2019.

Sheila Moschen created and hosted a series of 108 shows for KHOE World Radio, 90.5 FM, which air Wednesdays at 1 & 7 PM. The station broadcasts and streams from the campus of Maharishi International University in Fairfield, Iowa.

Sheila said 90 of her “Let Your Heart Sing” shows are on YouTube, and 68 of them include photos of the singers. You can hear me read my poem, with visuals, starting at 30:53.

New addition: “The first line is the DNA of the poem.” — Billy Collins

Years later I read about this notion of how a line of poetry can come to you and develop into a poem. Billy Collins explained this to George Plimpton in an interview for The Paris Review’s The Art of Poetry No. 83. He said: “I think what gets a poem going is an initiating line. ….. I can tell that the line wants to continue. If it does, I can feel a sense of momentum—the poem finds a reason for continuing. The first line is the DNA of the poem; the rest of the poem is constructed out of that first line. The first few lines keep giving birth to more and more lines.”

I certainly found that to be the case in writing down Being in Nature, especially since I was open and innocently receptive to what was unexpectedly, surprisingly, being given, and which later gave birth to subsequent stanzas, the whole poem. 

Mary Oliver and Billy Collins each approach writing a poem from their own perspective. I found both explanations of their experiences truthful, a confirmation of my own. They are two different, but valid angles on the same subject, of how a poem is written and comes into being.

For more on ‘George Plimpton interviewed Billy Collins for The Paris Review’, see the second half of Billy Collins discusses the value of getting to the end of a poem and what can happen afterwards. Also see this article Billy Collins wrote In Memoriam for The Paris Review about Mary Oliver, recalling a time they gave a poetry reading together: When Mary Oliver Signed Books. (PDF) I also wrote a memorial piece after I discovered she had left us: RIP: Mary Oliver. Thank you for sharing your poetic gifts with us. They are a national treasure!

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.

UNDECIDED (Love Tanka Number One)

October 16, 2010

UNDECIDED
Love Tanka Number One

How can you tell me
You want to meet me halfway
You’ve yet to begin

Love is non-negotiable
You’re either out or you’re in

Ken Chawkin
January 30, 2006
Fairfield, Iowa

(A prelude to COMMITTED)

Two Love Tanka

September 23, 2010

Love Tanka I

No matter the place
Home is being together
The Soul is settled

Disease may separate us
But Love takes care of our hearts

.

Love Tanka II

For peace to be here
The Soul has to be settled
And the Heart nurtured

Disease brings Separation;
Compassion, Devotion—Love

.

Ken Chawkin
September 22, 2010, 9 p.m.
With Sali at Parkview Care Center
Fairfield, Iowa, USA

.

Also see UNDECIDED and COMMITTED

“a conversation with God” by Ellen Roth

July 24, 2010

a conversation with God

one day, in a moment of deep silence
and inner wakefulness
i said to God..

dear God..
sometimes i feel as if no one sees me
or hears me
it is as if i don’t even exist

and He answered with a question..

My child
does that mean that I don’t exist
because sometimes people don’t see Me
or hear Me
or wonder if I Am?

and i laughed
at myself.. for my foolishness
for i knew that this was not true..

and i thought about what God said
for a day..

and the next day
in a moment of deep silence and inner wakefulness
God spoke to me again..

My child
it is the blindness of these people
that prevents them from seeing you

and i reflected on that

and He continued….

and it is your own blindness that prevents you ..
from seeing you
pay more attention to you..
to your Self..

and i thought..
of course.. how simple..
how true..

and then
He said…

after some time
all of the glories of the Universe
I will reveal to you..
doubts will vanish
questions will disappear
all you will see is Light
all you will know
is
Peace

and i thought to myself
i am truly blessed…

—Ellen Roth

Another meditator friend wrote a beautiful poem that also came to her in the Ladies Golden Dome: A profound poem from Karen Karns asks us — WHAT COULD BE MORE INTIMATE?

COMMITTED (a two-haiku poem)

June 30, 2010

COMMITTED
a two-haiku poem

when the tide rolls in
bows of boats bump each other
tethered to the dock

with our ups and downs
we remain tied together
solid as a rock

Ken Chawkin
March 13, 2006
Fairfield, Iowa

(6 weeks after UNDECIDED)

Years later I recorded this and two other love poems for Sali (This Quiet Love and In Our Loving Eyes) for a 2019 Valentine’s Day program on KHOE, MIU’s campus radio station. Click here to read and listen to them.

An Unwanted Guest

June 30, 2010

An Unwanted Guest

When you came to live with me
You brought an unwanted guest
He took over both our lives
To the point you had to leave

Now I visit you … and he’s
Still there ruling over you
No longer a tenant but
A landlord demanding rent

And we pay him with our lives
His name is Dementia

Ken Chawkin
June 19, 2010
Fairfield, Iowa

Related: a new tanka: Dementia Blues

The Curse of Dementia: On watching a loved one diminish before your eyes, poem by Ken Chawkin

Sitting with Sally: 5-haiku poem

Rage Against the Disease

Sally describes her journey “To Jyotir Math” with Maharishi and scientists who met to tell the Shankaracharya about the dawning of a new age

April 17, 2010

To Jyotir Math

Late May, dusty dry hills, scrub brush, months before monsoons would come bringing green relief.

The ashram, quiet, in the fading sunlight, was impressive in these Himalayan foothills; ancient, two-storied cream stone, with saffron orange trim, the Shankarcharya’s colors, and flag flying, nestled against a hill beside Shankara’s cave and banyan tree, the same cave and tree where Shankara sat 3,000 years ago writing his commentaries with the disciples—Trotaka, Hasta-Malaka, Vartika-Kara, Padma-Pada. 3,000 years ago.

The air, though tired and dusty with summer heat, vibrated with ancient wisdom, lively still in that remote valley, hidden from time.

The great gong sounded from the ashram at sunset, calling the villagers to meet, poor peasants—the men road workers, wearing their army uniforms like badges of honor; the women, their good saris ragged to our eyes, glittered with tinseled trim and brilliant blended hand woven colors—scarlet, blue indigo and jaded greens.

They flowed like water into the meeting room—a small room, filled with greatness. Shankarcharya walked slowly into the room, an immense presence, pundits extolling his holiness with Vedic mantras. His gentle gaze, meeting our eyes, greeted the pale Americans who had come with Maharishi. He sat on Guru Dev’s throne, like a statue of stillness, waiting for us to settle, then beckoned to us gently to move forward so more of the villagers could enter the room.

The women to one side, sat apart, protected by their gentle warm togetherness, shifting, hushed whispers, pulling their saris as Maharishi and the great western scientists spoke of the dawning of a new age.

I had been there before, perhaps in a dream, of walking these hills, knowing with liquid clarity what would be around the curve, in the next cave, in the small Devi temple. I knew that holiness.

It was late, and we left quietly. Ahead of us, the village women walked slowly, heads together, chatting and laughing, apart from their men, gathering their tired children in their strong brown arms.

—Sally “Sali” Peden

——————————————

(Also see: Pilgrimage, and Timeless Journey, by Sally Peden)

Around 1995-96 Sali took some classes in the MA in Professional Writing program at Maharishi University of Management.  The poetry writing class was taught by poet Rustin Larson. It was there that she recalled and wrote about her journey to Jyotir Math in India with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, which had taken place some 20 years earlier, in May 1975, the year Maharishi had inaugurated the Dawn of the Age of Enlightenment. For an explanation and further developments …. (more…)