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one should flow through life like a river

being like the sun that warms others

soft as water and yet hard as a stone

poised as a mountain, and yet

fast as the wind that moans


a storm of emotions

delivering our words like a potion

we are all delicate flowers in a field

here merely for the season

absorbed in what we feel


our bodies bound to this earth like a tree

while our minds fly like a bird that is free

and above us all our the stars

the universe’s mystery

of who we really are


…a life…


A Campbell 2014 (~_~)







Spring will melt the snows and the sun will dry the rains.

Clouds overhead will pass as will lifes little pains.

Moments trickle away bringing new days,

where the mind will wonder and stray.

But if you are able to stand and bow,

there is still the here and now.

Art 2014


have a zen filled day


Life is like, watching trees grow

you can never see yourself rise

dancing in the wind at the moment

 results bloom when years die

Art (2013)


I had been playing with the thought, “Watching trees grow” after I was sitting in contemplation on the river, doing nothing at all. When I realized, I am doing something, even if it is just sitting, or watching trees grow.


Art (2011)

on so
a Grasshopper goes
to leap from where it stands

there is no guarantee
where it will be
when it finally lands

it knows not
that death exists
yet jumps to be safe

and rides the wind
to destiny’s whim
in a leap of faith

(I have been very busy lately, but as you see, I never stop seeking zen in life)


a tree limb lay

like thoughts fallen yesterday

art (2009)


have a zen filled day




There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.

It was only a grain,
But it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they’re so plain.

Now, did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?

Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?

“No,” he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.

Now the years have rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny . . . stew.

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral,
For isn’t it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?

What couldn’t we do
If we’d only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.

this poem found here from Hanza Momand


Nothing is great like friendship on earth, No jewel No pearl has got it’s worth. No one except a friend can be trusted, Your life will never ever get rusted.

tears are pearls produced by the soul … Art~


Once upon a time there lived a cloth merchant in a village with his wife and two children. They were indeed quite well-off. They had a beautiful hen which laid an egg everyday. It was not an ordinary egg, rather, a golden egg. But the man was not satisfied with what he used to get daily. He was a get rich-trice kind of a person. The man wanted to get all the golden eggs from his hen at one single go.

So, one day he thought hard and at last clicked upon a plan. He decided to kill the hen and get all the eggs together. So, the next day when the hen laid a golden egg, the man caught hold of it, took a sharp knife, chopped off its neck and cut its body open. There was nothing but blood all around & no trace of any egg at all.

He was highly grieved because now he would not get even one single egg. His life was going on smoothly with one egg a day but now, he himself made his life miserable. The outcome of his greed was that he started becoming poorer & poorer day by day and ultimately became a pauper. How jinxed and how much foolish he was. So, the moral of the story is- one who desires more, looses all. One should remain satisfied with what one gets.


Once a lion was roaming in the jungle in search of a prey. Luckily, he saw a rabbit  sleeping fast under a tree. He was delighted to get a meal with no efforts at all.

The lion was about to spring at the sleeping rabbit when he caught sight of a deer  passing by. He thought of going for a bigger prey, as it would be a much nicer meal. So, he chased the deer but failed to overtake it. He gave up the attempt and returned to the place where the rabbit was sleeping.

Reaching there, the lion saw that the small animal was no longer there. As it was getting dark, it was difficult for the lion to look out for another prey and so he had toremain hungry.“I have been served right. Had I contented myself with the rabbit, I would not have starved at least”, murmured the lion.

Moral: greed for more causes loss of what one already has.


a bird in hand is better than two in the bush.

one shouldn’t hunt two rabbits, rather focus on one at a time.



 A teacher was watching her students as they all climbed on the big oak tree in the play ground. “Be careful,” she shouted. The whole class room was on the tree. Some were trying to climb to the top while most settled for a perch on the lower branches.

When play time was over and all were back in the class-room, the kids all selected that Tommy was the winner because he had climbed higher than any one else, on the tree.

The teacher interrupted the class and stated, “Tommy may have climbed to the top, and he may climb higher on the social ladder than any one else in life. But the facts are that everyone had fun climbing the tree, right?” The class all agreed.

“Did anyone not enjoy climbing the tree?” She asked. No student raised their hand immediately but slowly, little Sally raised her hand and claimed she did not like climbing the tree.

Why did you not like climbing the tree? Why then did you climb the tree?” The teacher asked Sally.

“I am afraid of heights.” Sally stated. “And I did it because everyone else was doing it. I was afraid they would all call me ‘chicken’ if I didn’t.”

“I think we should all give a big clap for Sally,” the teacher said to the class. “Sally climbed the tree with a great fear in order to fit in.” The class room clapped for Sally. “I think Sally should be the winner today.” The class all agreed, even Tommy. “

moral: As we all go through life, like climbing a tree, some may reach higher than others, but the main thing is that we all enjoy the climb, help each other and especially those who are afraid. Rise above the earth and hold on tightly.

by Art~ 2012


I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray,

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair

Upon whose blossom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems were made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree.
­Joyce Kilmer

To talk much and arrive nowhere is like climbing a tree to catch a fish.

~Chinese Proverb~

may your climb through life be a joy this day


I was feeling big, and rather strong

in my car and driving home.

When I saw the full moon

peeking through the tall timbered pines

above the road that twist and whined.


It made me feel small and rather meek

a spec on this earth, where I squeak

I bowed to the moon’s ancient smile

like a zen master, it taught me

I am but at the mercy of time.


By Art~


The blissful state reveals itself as a shining light, as a luminescence permeating the still field of the mind. There is a sense of light from an undefined “above,” silence, a fullness of vitality, and deep rest.

In sacred poetry, particularly in Zen poetry, this is often expressed as the full moon in the night sky.

The moon is the individual consciousness that shines only by reflecting the constant light of the sun, which is unbounded awareness. Individual consciousness, like the moon, waxes and wanes, sometimes bright and clear, sometimes dark.

When the moon, consciousness, is full, it is round, whole, complete, perfectly reflecting the light of divine awareness. The full moon is enlightenment. It is Buddha-mind. It is the soft light that illumines the land below when all is at rest.

In yogic poetry, the crescent moon is often associated with the brow chakra or opened “third eye” of spiritual vision. This is why some poetry and Hindu iconography depict gods and saints with a moon on the forehead.

Some Taoist and Buddhist poetry speaks enigmatically of the sun shining within the moon. These poems are referring to the state of full enlightenment when pure awareness (the sun) shines unhindered through the enlightened individual consciousness (the moon).

The full moon reminds us of the ultimate in awareness and spiritual presence. The new moon, in its darkness, can represent the “death” of complete egolessness or encountering the unknowable nature of the Mystery…

Moon (a list of poems with the moon theme)


There is an old zen saying; The finger pointing at the moon, is not the moon.


may your smile be as bright as a full moon


(psst… this is not me in this picture)

Like most, I have to manicure the yard. Cutting the grass is like giving the earth a hair cut; prune the scalp (the yard) and let the rest of the body go. My Father-in-law, like most, has a riding lawn mower and finds any reason he can to ride it. I find this time a marvelous time to reflect, meditate and even inspires some of my writes, like; ‘The rock and the roll’ (a story I came up with cutting the grass today)  compassion for ignorance,’ and ‘praying to say the right thing,’ plus others. At the old house, in my poetic days, I wrote this while cutting the grass;

a tree limb lay

like thoughts

fallen yesterday

Like most, when I was younger I made money cutting lawns. I won’t go into the story of how the riding lawn-mower caught on fire and burned up or who’s fault it was. The facts are, I now have a push mower and don’t mind the work, the rewards are in the muscles and the yard, like a zen master tending the garden. Yep, you guessed it, I just cut the grass.

Be like the grass, even if it’s stepped on, crushed, burned and cut; it always persists and grows back even greener and stronger.

The grass always seems greener in anothers yard.


The Grass Cutting Sword

Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (is a legendary Japanese sword as important to Japan’s history as Excalibur is to Britain’s, and is one of three Imperial Regalia of Japan. It was originally called Ama-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi (“Sword of the Gathering Clouds of Heaven”) but its name was later changed to the more popular Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (“Grass Cutting Sword”).

It was discovered from the body of a giant serpent. In the reign of the XII Emperor, the sword was gifted to Yamato Takeru, who was led into an open grassland as a trap by a warlord. The plan was to ignite the grass and burn Yamato to death. In desperation, Yamato started cutting the grass with his sword and discovered to his amazement that he could control the wind. Using this power, Yamato expanded the fire in the direction of his enemies, defeating them. It was after this incident that Yamato named the sword as “Grasscutter Sword”.

Yamato was later killed in a battle by a monster when he ignored his wife’s advice to take the Grasscutter sword with him. The moral of the story: Always listen to your wife. However, In The Tale of the Heike, a collection of oral stories transcribed in 1371, the sword is lost at sea after the defeat of the Heike clan in the Battle of Dan-no-ura, a naval battle that ended in the defeat of the Heike clan forces and the child Emperor Antoku at the hands of Minamoto no Yoshitsune.

In the tale, upon hearing of the Navy’s defeat, the Emperor’s grandmother led the Emperor and his entourage to commit suicide by drowning in the waters of the strait along with the three Imperial Regalia, including Kusanagi. Although the Minamoto troops managed to stop a handful of them and recovered two of the three regalia, Kusanagi was said to have been lost forever.


Once upon a time a flea saw an ox grazing in a pasture. He knew that oxen work for men in their farms. But he didn’t like it. He was proud that he fed on men’s blood and yet didn’t do anything for them. Approaching the ox, the flea asked, “How is it so that you work for men though youare quite big and strong? Look at me, I never do anything for them and yet feed ontheir blood though I am so small.” 
The ox was surprised to hear what the flea had said and replied, “If I work for men,they are very kind to me. They take care of mine in every way, feed me, shelter meand moreover, pat me on my back, head and neck out of love and affectiom.On the other hand, you feed on their blood and they are always up to destroy you.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~Behavior always counts.
may the grass be soft beneath your feet

A great sculptor was out and about searching for a stone that he could work on for his next sculpture. When he found one suitable to his liking he dragged it home and began working on it. Chipping away at it, sanding it smoothly and after several months he was finished.

Any and everyone who gazed upon this sculpting would say, “You have created a masterpiece.”

The sculptor would merely say, “I simply chipped away the pieces, the sculpture was already there.


Sculpting the mind

by Art~


All my life

I have chipped away pieces of me

like days

never to retrieve them again


sanding the rough edges

smoothing out a soothing feel

to that which I am liking


The pedestal I place my self upon is short

for “the farther a man’s feet are from the earth

the farther he is from himself”


chiseling perfection

only to hide the scars

where I have been hammered wrongfully

either by my own ignorance or from another’s


I marvel at marble memories

and the constant change in me,

daily I am chipping away at the pieces of me while

Sculpting my mind


food for thought

Perhaps the most famous statue in the world is the statue of David by Michelangelo.

In 1501 Michelangelo was commissioned to create the statue of David. He broke away from the traditional carvings of David who had slain Goliath, that was generally depicted with a severed head or wielding a sword with intense expressions. Instead, Michelangelo created a simple and elegant statue that empowers the idea of a youth with stature and grace.

I see it as a symbol, that the smallest of men can over come the greatest of obstacles. The infamous story of David and Goliath alone tells the tale of what a man can accomplish with courage. I see David as one whom remained humble after his name became famous across the land after his victory.

(a situation I was recently faced with, two goliaths… I think I know how David felt)


life is not about finding yourself

life is about creating (sculpting) yourself 

Once upon a time, there was a seed and because it was only a seed, nobody cared to notice it. Thus, gripped by a sense of inferiority, the seed gave no importance to its existence.

Then one day, a wind picked him up – randomly or otherwise it didn’t know – and threw it mercilessly on an open field under the sweltering sun. He was confused. Why would anything do such a thing? But instead of any copasetic answers, it was provided with rain (in addition to sunlight); sometimes in drizzles and sometimes in torrents.

Meanwhile time flew and years later it saw a traveler sitting by his side. “Thank you God for this. I really needed some rest,” he heard the traveler say.

“What are you talking about?” The seed promptly asked. He thought the man was making fun of him. Sure, he had witnessed many people sitting by his side – more so in recent years – but no one ever spoke to him like that.

“Who is this?” The man was startled.

“This is me. The seed.”

“The seed?” The man looked at the giant tree. “Are you kidding me? You are no seed. You are a tree. A goliath of a tree!”


“Yes! Why else do you think people come here?”

“What do they come here for anyways?” Asked the seed.

“To feel your shade! Don’t tell me you didn’t know you had grown over time.”

A moment passed before the traveler’s words struck the chord of realization within him.

The seed, now a prolix tree, thought and smiled for the first time in his life. The years of relentless tortures by the sun and the rain finally made sense to him.

Author: Novoneel Chakraborty


moral: sometimes we never see what we have grown into. Time does fly and we think of ourselves as we have always been while others are able to see what we have grown to become, sometimes this is good and sometimes not.


Sawing thoughts …by Art~

to build with timber
one must cut wood
sawing for moments
while one stood

a thought see-saw
across my mind
of yesterdays
tasteful as aged wine

to read the grain
predicting the bow
for cutting the wood
releases tension grown

the push and pull
that life casts
like the surf
that comes in laps

To push a blade
with firm hand
minutes of labor
in working strands

Images of you
basking on a bed
sensually wanting
me in my head

a driving force
of pulling hard
back and forth
boards are scar’s

like our salty life
on sweet sugar days
the memories
linger then they fade

standing firm
a strong footed stance
just man and wood
doing a saw dust dance

soft moments
come flooding back
embedded in the grain
of our lives and tracks

hard wood or soft
it makes a difference
sandpaper smooth
becomes entranced

we shared our lives
back and forth
perhaps that’s why
I still carry the torch

drawing a line
placing the saw
cutting wood
that’s all

by Art~


may you build a better day, today



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Emma (Sunshine),

wedding day