Thursday, 29 July 2010
| Writings In The Stone Garden... |
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POETRY | By Paul Costa
The vine wrapped itself, Around the stones jagged and smooth. It fell from each one. Wanderer: It would not be wise to move today. Chorus: Is it ever? Wisdom does not change. Wanderer: Only my levels of foolishness do. Blowfish in the cool clear river run to the temple. Ghosts of children play, In the fallen leaves of the cherry blossom, Where? Now they cut it down, And sell it in wreaths at the market. It is inevitable, The valiant samurai become ronin, When pride befalls their masters… So it says in the teachings, And so it shall ever be. I decided to lie, And watch the storm; An immense off white sky, And a vortex of black snow. Beneath the pink purple death, of the sun in the valley of clouds, Her existence sleeps against me in reality, On the new shadows of the fresh grass. Hold still your roots, And let your branches move in the wind. • Paul Costa is a poet working out of Toronto who experiments in a wide range of verse types, including but not limited to lyric and epic verse. This piece, Writings In The Stone Garden...Shogun’s Fortress, is an experiment in different styles of Japanese literature he has read in several translations. |
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