The Boatman Has Grown Thin

 

The Boatman
has grown thin
He has shaved his head and beard,
limbs are very slight.
And he is wearing rolled up pants
a kin to Gandhi.
He plays his ancient
Oar and mandolin
With an even greater passion
Seen only
In his eyes and
Quickly nimble fingers.
As he plays an eastern tune
by a placid river shore.
The journeys seem
Fewer now.
He doesn’t sing,
Yet his gentle smile is there.
He stops to rest,
puts his strumming hand on heart,
Thankful for another
Day
on one side of the river;
A benign lump
in his throat.

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A Gilded Summer Meditation in 3 Parts

1/
So many summers
Passing
Renewing
Reviewing
Repeating

A rejuvenating
Laying of a gentle
Touch and waste
To skin.

2/
Summer days,
When the heat
And the light
Shine,
rise white
on city pavement,
And persistent
memories
trick
the mind,
Without the
luxury of repetition;
Simply a lingering taste of
The summer wonder
Of green childhood.

3/
The poplars wave
And clap
A flickering Gold and green
A rustling sound
In balm of sunlit wind.
The grasses
Genuflect
Bowing tasseled
heads,
To ground,
And high up
green and
Sky bound,
Golden
Boughs sway
In overarching
Gratitude
of
The boundless brilliant sun.

Reinterpretation

Call it a a “translation” or reinterpretation of an ancient poet and one of his works:

Your love leads me
along the treed and verdant paths
Along the babbling brooks that speak of vast and endless silence.
I often walk with eyes closed
My blind steps treading
on right roads,
hearing only your music and your name to guide me,
to the sacred destinations of the heart;
And even though at times
I walk encompassed by the depths of darkness,
The darkest forces
Of the night
my faith
and
your example guide me
To leave me no fear.
And so the bountiful tables
Are often spread out before me
In the midst of all the many that would harbour me ill will;
That would see me harmed and lowly
to placate troubled souls.
Your gifts are many,
rich,and blessings;
a finger dipped in oil,
an abundance
Of the flowing fruit of vine;
Your well springs of
Water, life, and wine
Cupped
revive me
I seek, I walk,
Sure footed and
certain
In your paths of goodness
and compassion,
To arrive,
And rest finally
in the unending
mansion habitations
of your love.