Chasing the lion's tail

Like a little lion
chasing its tail
so Am I
chasing my own shadow
seeking its wisdom
in the light
of my own ignorance

Hungry ghosts

I watch
the people in the world
like hungry ghosts
chasing their next meal
only to recognize
that it is empty of nature

Returning home

the moment we realize
that we need not
take a simple step
to return home

In this moment we are free
to Be

changing seasons

A heartfelt goodbye
To my own footsteps
wearing slippers
Soon
I will be wearing heavy boots

everyday Satori

suddenly i recognize
that the world
is a floating entity
empty in nature
but filled with love

Where does the inspiration come from?

What inspires us to write poetry? Today I would like to ponder upon the question of poetry. sometimes I write, and sometimes I don't write. To be a poet is certainly something that one is by heart. You cannot force the words down on paper, they need to flow softly from your heart and unto the paper. Poetry has become a lost art today, the nothingness from which a poet writes have become more and more obscured. I try to tap into this no-thing-ness when I write, as it is from there all things arise, it is from this place all the great poets, Rumi, Kabir, Ryukan, Walt wittman get their inspiration.

How can we bring poetry into the hearts of people again? Fact is, we can't change the world, we can't make people do something, but we can open up their eyes a little, and this is what I am doing with this blog. This is what I am trying to do with my poems. Like the Great Lao Tzu would say, trust the Tao (the great way).

Regards

Lasse Petersen

speechless

Like a Noh actor
I cast my away mask

This drama called life
was after all
just a drama
no-thing

The actor is
Suddenly
deprived of his role
No-thing remains

simple moments

The example
of an unspoiled moment
is washing the dishes
falling in love
seeing a tree in bloom
or
arguing with you beloved one
All of these are simple moments

The essence of Haiku

The essence of Haiku is
for just a moment
to capture a glimpse of the world
in 17 syllables

Ongoing stupidity

I am just
a wholehearted fool
who has lost sight
of the ox in my backyard
The reins still remain
as a reminder
of my ongoing stupidity

Like a buddha

Like a Buddha
I do the dishes
and empty my cup

A knowing (but who is it)

There is a knowing
A presence
There is a thought
An assumption
that I am more
than I AM

There is a search
Who is the seeker
Stop
Ask yourself
"Who am I"

there is not an answer
Only a deep knowing
within

ordinary change

In the moment we start to recognize
That there is a gradual change
In our heart
When we sit still

Then
And only then
Do we stop and listen
To the bird's song
or the raindrops

The Tao of LazyLion

Too lazy to fix the world
I let the world take care of itself
Not waiting for the world to change
I follow the rhythm of Tao
Listening quietly to the raindrops
Falling on the tin roof outside the meditation hall
I sit comfortably in Zazen

The world is at it is
If we try to change it
We have already lost it
We are changing an idea
In our own mind

Follow the way
Be content with who you are
Try to change nothing
Full acceptance of the moment

- Lasse Petersen

Bound
Deep in my heart
is a Truth
It calls me on

The mountain flowers

The mountain flowers bloom
In the mountain mist, my heart opens
The lark greets my return at dawn

breaking the cycle

In the absence of me
My soul mourns
Longing for me to return

I have been long on my way
Trying to reach the unreachable
To tame the anger in me
But with no success

It feels like waves
Coming in on a deserted beach
They appear
Then disappear

I flow in and out of time
In and out of presence
In and out of consciousness

But
Right now

I am aware

The old woman

An old woman
Walking barefoot
Through the streets
Did she loose her shoes?
Was she forgetful?
Or did she simply want to feel
Her feet touching
The ground below her?
Ready to feel the stones
On her way
Ready to feel the soft
Grass beneath her feet
As she walks through the park

I remove my shoes
to join her adventure
I walk home
barefoot
Tracing her footsteps

The secret

The old tree knows my secret
The old man on the bench knows it
What is my secret then?
If I put it into words I would loose it
To know it
You would have to listen
Really listen
Like when you listened to a great story
in the youth of your childhood
Or when you discovered something new
You cannot know my secret without
excitement and curiosity
maybe
maybe you already know

True Joy

Come
come and sit beside me
Come and share your stories
your deepest secrets
let me into your secret garden
where the seeds to your greatness
spring
Lead me through your field of sorrow
and then let me enter the valley of joy
Let me climb in your tree of wisdom
and then let me swim in your river of desire
To me
This is true joy

going south

The cranes fly south in winter
Free to roam the sky
Where are you going?

In the heart of a woman

She dances to a tune
unheard
she moves with a grace
never seen before
she touches that place within me
where no one has ventured

She unmasks me
I expose my heart to her
share my dreams with her
sit silently with her
dance with her
and
make love with her

I am not a poet

Poets command great words
I am not a poet
Playing with words
Struggling to capture
The precise details
Of a moment

Trying to explain
What cannot
Be captured in words
Therein lies my dilemma

you exist

Deep within my heart
You exist
Like an untold story
Of love
Like a true lover
you are
Like a blooming flower
you open

The old pine tree

Near the old pine tree
There is an old south going road
This is where I rest

I hear the wind singing
In the branches of the old pine
I listen to its song

everyday enlightenment

A child's mild laughter
The blooming of a lotus
Washing the dishes
Everyday enlightenment

An everyday realization

The wind touches my chest
It's getting colder
I tuck my coat in
It's cold

It's almost morning
I left them behind
smiling

I feel free
without my shoes

The Wind at play

I watch the wind
happily playing in a tree
no worries

Leaned against its trunk
aware