A Better Resurrection
By Christina Rossetti
I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb’d too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.
My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall—the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.
My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish’d thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.
The Internet Monk Archives 
Depression lies deep
Into a fool it seeps
Long live the Lord
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Good word, plectrum.
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I pity the fool
who would write some haiku
to make me look the fool
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To much haiku
Will make a fool
Of me and you
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Ah, you were up late.
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All rests in the glade
The maiden draws the plectrum
Moths rise to the moon
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They both work!
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midnight — no waves, no wind
the empty boat is
flooded with moonlight
— Dogen
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I meant say “the haiku must cross”, but as can be seen, I made a serendipitous mistake.
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the road runs two ways
whether going or coming
the chickens must cross
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my haiku lies flat
putrid poetic roadkill
here comes heavy rain
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Songbird sings this morn,
Lone voice crying to nature,
Or maybe to me.
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the birds are unheard
late morning heat absorbing
the flight from their songs
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Songbird sings this morn,
Lone voice crying in nature,
Or maybe to nature.
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Pretty bleak spot, for sure. So well-written.
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I’m a West Coaster. That was a normal hour for me.
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Reminiscent of any number of Psalms isn’t it? The first phrase sounds like hitting true bottom. No more words, even to fill the empty space.
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Even in Kyoto,
hearing the cuckoo’s cry,
I long for Kyoto
— Kobayashi Issa
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Rick Ro; you’re up early and I can’t read poems before 5 A.M. East Coast time.
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Fabulous poet. Fabulous poem.
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