Introduction: Observations, reflections, memories.
One of my favorite sayings, attributed to Salvador Dali, was that he felt no more important than his paintbrushes. That is how I feel about the work presented here. My career has always been about inspiration, creativity and bringing ideas to life. Sculpture, applied art, works in the 3 D world. But poetry? Do real men read or write poetry? Perhaps the brunt of too many bad jokes.
Within the past few years, my concerns have focused, or refocused on later in life considerations. The What we are, and not so much the Who we have been. To that end, the written word has become essential for the material some might call out there – a life, the universe, and everything perspective.
In the process of transitioning, I found it was necessary to condense some of these ramblings into smaller, bite-size concepts. Forcing more care and precision. One day, sitting at my desk, I observed a raindrop, on a branch, illuminated by the sun. In a few minutes, in five lines, the first poem in this offering came into being. Six months later, the outpouring of these poems began. I came to notice the world around me even more intently. To be able to open up to the creativity and resources that are available. To flow. And definitely to act as a channel to higher resources.
The poems included have a number of inspirations. Many being observations of the world around us. Questions and wondering why. Memories of course. Along with musings about life, and our place within it. Some reflective, some bittersweet, silly and serious. Perhaps more questions than answers, but hopefully they stimulate ideas and perspectives about who and what we are.
I’ve taken the rough format of the Japanese haiku poems. In five lines, Quintains, in free verse, to preserve my freedom / sanity. Short, precise observations that set a tone, Zen like to capture a moment. Or like a Zen master giving a dozing monk a swat on the back.
Alan Swanson Lancaster 8/19/21
Moment Sunlight in a drop of rain On a small branch Moving with a breeze Clings for a moment Gone. Clarity Awareness Hollow tree, leaves still flourish Remembers its core Sapling basking in rain Bending naked with snow Today the new nest within Now Mist embracing a flower at first light Feels the Now of Creation In all ways new In all ways ancient Asking nothing Asking everything Time and space its shadows Lost Circling ant, lost Remembers the path home So much to share Twig over garden rain To explore a new way Dance Moth from leaf to leaf No nectar there Dancing for someone The melody of display I listen for the lyrics Shadows Flowers shadow dance On my kitchen wall Noontime sun, how? Magic or science? The bee didn’t care Question A day in the sun. A day in the rain. Darkness at night. Does the pine enjoy The view from my window? Sparrow Today, a single sparrow Yesterday’s flock attended Attention calls, wings depart Dry bread from the open door Another miracle, in time for lunch Safe Dark and light shades of green Solemn upright attention Birds never notice its breath Safe embrace, clutching branches Yield to their nighttime stirring Letters Ink on paper, black contrast From nowhere, letters to words Sound in a time of stillness Reminds the sleeping cat I have not left her alone Morning Whatever opens the morning sun Joins me for another day Looking across the blanket seascape Remembers gold and galleons From lands far away Reflection Try as I will, open as water Remembering grandmother’s smile Fills only so much within Eons ago, light years away I pause at the reflection Circle We build with squares, right angle rules Flat and straight, honor to the machine No longer straight, no longer right My life now ruled by circles and curves Spirals carry me aloft, share me with the earth Why Child’s sponge needs nourishment Mop the mind for food How much can be rung out Color or sound, drops or gallons Father left me with a river Whisper New white page calls my name In a whisper, I await the echo of why Recognize something, a calm reflection? Earth pulls, stars push, sun and rain needy Have I misplaced the color of spring? Wonder My name in some ancient script Washed away with sand - remains? Waiting for the wonder of another home Bare feet needing the solace of a new earth Have I forgotten what the Buddha knows? A.S. 7/23/21