Wednesday, April 03, 2002

April is National Poetry Month

More from the Shambhala weekend... (with permission)

[Practice is so hard]

Practice is so hard
It's uncomfortable
And boring
I never get it right anyway
I want to watch T.V.
Or have a little chat
And then I remember
I'm not doing it for myself
I suppose I can sit
A while longer

— William O.


[They say death comes without warning]

They say death comes without warning
I'm not so sure
The color of the persian carpet flower in the sea
The sounds of the mockingbird at 3 AM
The smell of garlic and onions cooking in butter
The subtle flavors of a rich wine
The feel of a silk shirt

These must be warnings to a warrior for they cannot be distraction

They are the celebration I am longing for
They are the ache in my heart, the tear in my eye

— Pat L.

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