Posts Tagged ‘poet’

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Charles Bukowski sang the life victorious, thanks to his having learned Transcendental Meditation

August 17, 2014

I first posted this wonderful poem by Charles Bukowski in the summer of 2014 and later found out that he had learned Transcendental Meditation towards the end of his life. So I’ve updated it in early 2021 with three different sources behind this story.

a song with no end

when Whitman wrote, “I sing the body electric”

I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can’t cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take
us

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
ours.

“a song with no end” by Charles Bukowski (1920-1994), from The Night Torn with Mad Footsteps. © Black Sparrow Press, 2001. (On Amazon)

he apparently loved meditation

Towards the end of a Dec 31, 2006 New York Times article, David Lynch’s Shockingly Peaceful Inner Life, Alex Williams writes: The filmmaker sees no contradiction between inner harmony and external edginess. “I heard Charles Bukowski started meditation late in his life,” Mr. Lynch said, referring to the poet laureate of Skid Row, who died in 1994. “He was an angry, angry guy, but he apparently loved meditation.”

meditation allowed him to be creative in his later months

In this 89.3 KPCC interview Bukowski’s wife said that he lost some ground after being diagnosed with leukemia at age 73. He got it back with transcendental meditation. “It allowed him to open up a space within himself to say these words about himself dying,” said Linda Bukowski. “These later poems, death poems, are so acute and so awake and aware and I think that had a lot to do with how meditation allowed him to be creative in his later months and write these poems, that I still cannot read.”

I checked with a friend who has taught TM to many celebrities and she replied: “I instructed Charles (or Hank as he liked to be called) and his wife, Linda, a few years before he passed away. He was a lovely man at that time of his life. I wonder if he was meditating when he wrote this beautiful piece.”

That’s probably how David Lynch would have known since they’re longtime TM friends. She later emailed to say that she had taught Bukowski around 1992. So based on this information and what Linda had said, chances are this poem could have been written during those final years of his life while he was meditating regularly.

a related post

Cartoon wisdom from Karl Stevens appears in this week’s print edition of The New Yorker. Time Out Boston wrote on the back of his book, Failure, “Karl Stevens may be the closet thing to a Charles Bukowski equivalent working in comic art. Except Stevens is way classier….” When Stevens was working on Failure, “I was struggling with alcoholism which I think was where the comparison lies. I stopped drinking a couple months before beginning to learn TM. Obviously the practice was crucial to helping me focus on living a cleaner life. ”Peace of mind and heart arrives when we accept what is.”

accepting what is

William Butler Yeats wrote about The Coming Of Wisdom With Time. It seems to have come to Bukowski toward the end of his life. See his full quote posted on NITCH’s Instagram. Only now did I realize who Karl Stevens was quoting!

“I have been alone but seldom lonely. I have satisfied my thirst at the well of my self and that wine was good, the best I ever had, and tonight sitting staring into the dark I now finally understand the dark and the light and everything in between. Peace of mind and heart arrives when we accept what is: having been born into this strange life we must accept the wasted gamble of our days and take some satisfaction in the pleasure of leaving it all behind. Cry not for me. Grieve not for me. Read what I’ve written then forget it all. Drink from the well of your self and begin again.”

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

Another “death poem” was found and posted: Charles Bukowski’s poem The Laughing Heart instructs us to find the light and improve our life. I added more content about his learning TM towards the end of his life.

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For Hafiz the role of an enlightened poet is to connect humanity with the joy of the divine

July 16, 2014

A CRYSTAL RIM
by Hafiz

The
Earth
Lifts its glass to the sun
And light — light
Is poured.

A bird
Comes and sits on a crystal rim
And from my forest cave I
Hear singing.

So I run to the edge of existence
And join my soul in love.

I lift my heart to Beloved
And grace is poured.

An emerald bird rises from inside me
And now sits
Upon the Beloved’s
Glass.

I have left that dark cave forever.
My body has blended with His.

I lay my wing
As a bridge to you

So that you can join us
Singing.

(“The Gift” – versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

Canadian poet P.K. Page describes a phantom bird in This Heavy Craft.

A mysterious bird in this Wallace Stevens poem teaches us the wonder of just being our self.

Love after Love, by Derek Walcott, resonates deeply when you first acknowledge yourself.

Another poem by Hafiz via Ladinsky describes the spiritual transformation of loving deeply within himself.

See 3 beautiful and profound short poems by Hafiz about the nature of God within us.

Hafiz, via Ladinsky, reminds us when we love those in our care we are brought closer to God

Winding up the year with inspiration from Hafiz

Hafiz’s poem, God Pours Light, awakens the soul and frees the mind from debating words about it

Here is an enlightening article on Hafiz and Maharishi’s Science of Consciousness by Rebecca Busch.

Found this lovely YouTube channel by Enea B, which combines poetry with visuals and music.

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Not the loss alone — a poem by Gregory Orr

October 22, 2013

Not the loss alone,
But what comes after.
If it ended completely
At loss, the rest
Wouldn’t matter.

But you go on.
And the world also.

And words, words
In a poem or song:
Aren’t they a stream
On which your feelings float?

Aren’t they also
The banks of that stream
And you yourself the flowing?

~ Gregory Orr ~

 (Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved)

See two other poems by Gregory Orr from the same book:

Let’s remake the world with words

Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved

 

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Bill Graeser memorializes Ansel Adams in his award-winning poem “Magic Light”

August 20, 2013

Magic Light

By Bill Graeser

Ansel Adams sits up
reaches for his camera—
his arm bony as a tripod leg
for it is “Magic Light”
the golden light of sunrise
and sunset.

But then he lays back down
and focusing instead
through the lens of his soul
in the black box of his skull
he sees… all the light

that ever filled Yosemite
or blazed the crosses at Hernandez
and with his brittle jaw
with its few teeth remaining
there in the dark room of a coffin
he smiles.

“Magic Light” by Bill Graeser won the Iowa Poetry Association’s 2012 Norman Thomas Memorial Award. Bill posted it August 28, 2012.

Congratulations, Bill, you deserve this memorial award for a memorial poem of the great Ansel Adams. I’m sure he’d approve, and be pleased! Visit https://www.anseladams.com for more amazing photos.

Another great poem by Bill Graeser is What You May Not Know About Frankenstein. I posted it as At last—the truth about Frankenstein.

Visit Bill Graeser’s website for more fine poetry and photography: https://www.billgraeser.com.

I found this detailed interview with Marc Silber and Michael Adams: An Inside Look at Ansel Adams’ Photography In Yosemite, posted April 10, 2013. (I also found this fascinating video posted by Silber Studios on Ansel Adams Most Famous Photograph: Moon Over Hernandez.) Marc is given a tour of the house and darkroom by Ansel’s son, Michael Adams. He was seven years old and with his father when he took the iconic picture of the moonrise over Hernandez and described how he created it. The music was composed by Andrew Buffett, the American musician, composer, author and philanthropist. Peter is an Emmy Award winner, New York Times best-selling author and co-chair of the NoVo Foundation. He is the youngest son of billionaire investor Warren Buffett. Here is an earlier video posted by Marc Silber about advice on how to visualize your photos, from a rare interview with Ansel Adams: Photography Visualization Advice by Ansel Adams. Photo visualization was so important to Ansel Adams that he made it the first chapter of his book on photography. See more of Marc’s videos on Ansel Adams.

See CBS Sunday Morning: From the archives: Photographer Ansel Adams.

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On Old Congress Run Road, a hauntingly beautiful poem by Susan F. Glassmeyer

August 20, 2013

ON OLD CONGRESS RUN ROAD

Susan F. Glassmeyer

A lost Lab running inside her own black shadow,
sideswiped by a car going north on the pike,
then struck by a driver heading south.

I’m an accidental witness on this no-moon night,
busy with my own troubles, like anyone else.
I don’t want to hear the dog’s pinched howl
or her fitful whimpering after she drops
like fallen cargo in the middle of the road.

I want to turn away, but a pressing thought
pulls me over—Don’t be afraid of the suffering.
So I give up, sit down in the street, stopping traffic.
Wrap myself around the furry clock of the dog’s life
as if to stop the stream pouring out of her head.

Not dead, but dying, I tell the onlookers.
I say, Touch her. I say, Don’t be afraid.
A few hands join mine as we follow the rise
and fall of the animal body, the warm belly growing
cooler with each exhalation. Pain appears to be lifting.

Now, under the village lamplight, a stunning
pink foam, almost iridescent, spilling
from dog lungs to dog mouth. Spilling a still life
of wet roses on the dark pavement: blood petals
on our hands, wrists, boots and ankles.

In a slow (call it reverential) movement, Bailey
(her collar says Bailey) arches her spine in an asana
of surrender. Musically sighs. Now dies.

—from Rattle #37, Summer 2012

This reminds me of William Stafford’s poem, Traveling through the Dark, but Susan F. Glassmeyer’s poem takes the reader into the fearless heart of compassion. Profoundly beautiful!

Also see I Tell You, a poem by Susan F. Glassmeyer, from The Incomplete Litany of Untold Stories

Read more of her poems in Sixfold Journal’s Poetry Winter 2015.

On April 16, 2018, Susan Glassmeyer published Invisible Fish, a collection of new and previously published selected poems. In March 2019, I purchased a signed copy directly from Susan. So glad I did.

Visit the new website of this Ohio Poet of the Year 2018.

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I Tell You, a poem by Susan F. Glassmeyer, from The Incomplete Litany of Untold Stories

August 20, 2013

I Tell You

I could not predict the fullness
of the day. How it was enough
to stand alone without help
in the green yard at dawn.

How two geese would spin out
of the ochre sun opening my spine,
curling my head up to the sky
in an arc I took for granted.

And the lilac bush by the red
brick wall flooding the air
with its purple weight of beauty?
How it made my body swoon,

brought my arms to reach for it
without even thinking.

…………*
In class today a Dutch woman split
in two by a stroke – one branch
of her body a petrified silence,
walked leaning on her husband

to the treatment table while we
the unimpaired looked on with envy.
How he dignified her wobble,
beheld her deformation, untied her

shoe, removed the brace that stakes
her weaknesses. How he cradled
her down in his arms to the table
smoothing her hair as if they were

alone in their bed. I tell you –
his smile would have made you weep.

…………*
At twilight I visit my garden
where the peonies are about to burst.

Some days there will be more
flowers than the vase can hold.

~ Susan Glassmeyer ~

(The Incomplete Litany of Untold Stories) Published in Gratefulness.

In this interview, Ideas Live: Joy, November 2018, Susan Glassmeyer sets up the poem with the story behind it at 25:50, then reads I Tell You.

Susan Glassmeyer’s advice in the interview reminds me of what poet Mary Oliver said: “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”

Mary Oliver elaborated it in this 3-line poem: Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. / Be astonished. / Tell about it.

Also see On Old Congress Run Road, a hauntingly beautiful poem by Susan F. Glassmeyer.

Read more of her poems in Sixfold Journal’s Poetry Winter 2015.

Susan Glassmeyer is the co-director of the Holistic Health Center of Cincinnati and has a private practice as a somatic therapist, specializing in the Feldenkrais Method®. She won a grant through Xavier University (Cincinnati) to complete work on a chapbook titled Body Matters.

On April 16, 2018, Susan Glassmeyer published Invisible Fish, a collection of new and previously published selected poems, including the two I love and posted—I Tell You and On Old Congress Run Road. She was also selected as the 2018 Ohio Poet of the Year. In March 2019, I purchased a signed copy directly from Susan. So glad I did. She has published two more books since then. To see a list of her publications and more, visit her website at www.susanglassmeyer.com.

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Varanasi by Mary Oliver in A Thousand Mornings

March 16, 2013

I previously posted Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, and Philip Goldberg emailed me to say that someone recently showed him the last poem in her new collection (A Thousand Mornings). He said, “It’s called ‘Varanasi,’ and it’s exquisite.” I started looking for it and found the poem posted by another poet, Bob Arnold, on his website. After reading it I agreed – it’s stunning! That’s why I’m posting it here for you to enjoy. I also came across a musical video of the poem with images from the Ganges. After you’ve read the poem, see Diane Walker’s poetic reaction to it below. But take a break from this busy introduction, and then enjoy the enlightened peaceful simplicity of Mary Oliver’s visit to Varanasi.

VARANASI

Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,

where fires were still smoldering,

and gazed, with our Western minds, into the Ganges.

A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;

she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling it

over her body, slowly and many times,

as if until there came some moment

of inner satisfaction between her own life and the river’s.

Then she dipped a vessel she had brought with her

and carried it filled with water back across the ghat,

no doubt to refresh some shrine near where she lives,

for this is the holy city of Shiva, maker

of the world, and this is his river.

I can’t say much more, except that it all happened

in silence and peaceful simplicity, and something that felt

like that bliss of a certainty and a life lived

in accordance with that certainty.

I must remember this, I thought, as we fly back

to America.

Pray God I remember this.

_______________________

Mary Oliver
A Thousand Mornings
(Penguin, 2012)

Now read this beautiful poetic reaction to the poem, Mary Oliver’s Varanasi, that Diane Walker, a contemplative photographer, posted on her website.

Among the NPR Poetry series is this interview ‘A Thousand Mornings’ With Poet Mary Oliver. You can also read the transcript here. I especially love this remark she makes about poetry:

“One thing I do know is that poetry, to be understood, must be clear. It mustn’t be fancy. I have the feeling that a lot of poets writing now are – they sort of tap dance through it. I always feel that whatever isn’t necessary shouldn’t be in a poem.”

Enjoy this wonderful Maria Shriver Interview With Mary Oliver.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

Speaking of another famous American visiting the Ganges, see Prudence Farrow — subject of the Beatles song Dear Prudence — visits India’s Kumbh Mela.

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

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Posted in Articles, Literature, Mary Oliver, Other poems, Peace, Poetry, Videos | 5 Comments »

Poetry—The Art of the Voice

January 6, 2011

Poetry—The Art of the Voice is another one of my poems published in This Enduring Gift – A Flowering of Fairfield Poetry, 2010. Editor Freddy Niagara Fonseca posted this poem on his Amazon.com page: VISITING POET Ken Chawkin: Poetry – The Art of the Voice, which links to the complete version on his Live Journal.

Poetry—The Art of the Voice

How fine will your breath become
from listening to these words?
How soft will they seem to be
as they settle through the mind
like silent snowflakes falling
from a windless winter sky?

I often marvel at the mystery—
how words can work
on a listener’s heart and mind,
upon hearing a poet’s thoughts,
a poet’s breath, flowing
from an inner voice—

a windless wind, speaking
through a voiceless voice.

© Ken Chawkin
Published in This Enduring Gift – A Flowering of Fairfield Poetry, 2010
http://www.thisenduringgift.com

This poem came out of the inspiration listening to the Diane Rhem Show: Bill Moyers on Poetry, when she invited him on to talk about his latest PBS special on the Poetry Festival he had attended and filmed, and his new book of it, “Fooling With Words: A Celebration of Poets and Their Craft” (William Morrow). They had invited 3 poets: Marge Piercy, former poet laureate Mark Strand, and Jane Hirschfield, to call in and discuss the inspiration for a poem they had written and share it with the listening audience. The effect on the Festival audiences was also discussed. See , with links to the program, book, and each poet reading their poem.

When the call went out for poems from Fairfield poets for This Enduring Gift-A Flowering of Fairfield Poetry, I sent it in along with some haiku and a tanka. It was published and later selected as the POEM OF THE DAY: Poetry – The Art of the Voice, by Ken Chawkin.

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Poetry—The Art of The Voice

September 12, 2009

Poetry—The Art of The Voice

How fine will your breath become
from listening to these words?
How soft will they seem to be
as they settle through the mind
like silent snowflakes falling
from a windless winter sky?

I often marvel at the mystery—
how words can work
on a listener’s heart and mind,
upon hearing a poet’s thoughts,
a poet’s breath, flowing
from an inner voice—
a windless wind, speaking
through a voiceless voice.

—Ken Chawkin

This poem was published in THIS ENDURING GIFT, A Flowering of Fairfield Poetry, 76 Poets Who Found Common Ground in One Small Prairie Town:, and later selected as the POEM OF THE DAY: Poetry – The Art of the Voice, by Ken Chawkin.

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