# **_A Life; Bending_**
If you have been following my page you may have noticed that my poetry has gotten smaller...and smaller. I have been immersing myself in the history and writing of the haiku (as well as other traditional forms such as tanka and renga). I have discovered western haiku, contemporary haiku, African American haiku...a whole discovery of these tiny three-lined worlds. Right now, I have found a home in zen...it brings me to this place that I call "the brink of unbearable inspiration". Along with my study on zen and haiku I have been working on expressing my own take on the aesthetics of beauty and art - I hope to make a blog post soon on my philosophical thoughts; this deeply reflective journey on life and writing has inspired me to publish a book which will be part essay, part collection of haiku.
Please share with me your own philosophy of life and if you have your own theory on the aesthetics of art/beauty.
This post, you could say, is a chapbook of my haiku as well as haiku-inspired poetry. Some of these are definitely not in the philosophy but are poems I felt inspired to write when I was "reclined in the state of zen" (though some of these are strict to the "rules" of the haiku tradition).
Though this book will be a project for my own joy I am curious if any of you Steemians would be interested in a hardcopy version of my poetry? Let me know <3 *** https://i.imgur.com/XNugMCf.jpg *** You go I cry a river longs for sleep
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Some hop over, some stomp through; the puddle
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The tree bark cracks Thick with moss; Another birthday
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Even the dead he visits; the wasp at my vase
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How envious that the pigeon begs no purpose
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Needles, pricking the breeze; sew the scent of evergreen
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The puddle, flooding, spills my reflection down a street grate
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delusions: Predicting rain, and yet I forget the season
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Sitting in the silent room, your music comes to mind
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Sun, Through aphid lace Speckles my lover's back - A thousand windows invites this touch Each freckle of light
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The maple’s bough bending lower, lower - dips the dancing moon; not a leaf rustled
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Farsi, from her lips inscribes the sky; lazuli they fly - two eagles
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Dressed for moonlight, only silver only a whisper to anoint skin with skin
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Water, pooling, makes lakes out of collarbones
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Two suns one mango, one fire spill morning’s nectar down my browned arm Sticky and free - These blue plains wedded, still;
I bathe in canopy
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Waning silver lip Sips the llapping floodplains Of this slurried night; A conch shell Stranded at my window An invitation To hear your Name One more Time
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Altars left by winter; the twigs of a bird nest balanced on the twigs of a tree
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Back to back they sleep, two bookends Under sheets
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Malting; red wool caught on the white willow
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Floating down night’s bated breath, my nakedness a raft for this moon's trembling light; drifting, drifting - to carry to guide, the moon, to illume even the slightest sigh of love
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Seeking warmth above my bed - the spiders' graveyard
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Hiking for days, all the trees Mona Lisa
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Sitting in the lawn chair beckoning Ra; damp leaves crisping under foot *** https://i.imgur.com/VckoBj7.jpg
Health and Love, always **Zameena Zen**