Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
Do you know what a poem is, Esther?'
'No, what?' I would say. '
A piece of dust.'
Then, just as he was smiling and starting to look proud, I would say, 'So are the cadavers you cut up. So are the people you think you're curing. They're dust as dust as dust. I reckon a good poem lasts a whole lot longer than a hundred of those people put together.'
A
... See moreThis haiku is a deep reflection on the truth of reality, which is by nature transient and fleeting. When we are unable to accept this truth we become distressed. However, recognition of this truth could at least bring a sense of poignancy to all of us human beings, who inevitably experience and witness it. There is even an aesthetic of this
... See morePatricia Donegan • Haiku Mind: 108 Poems to Cultivate Awareness and Open Your Heart
“In Senegal, the polite expression for saying someone died is to say his or her library has burned. When I first heard the phrase, I didn’t understand it, but over time I came to realize it was perfect. Our minds and souls contain volumes inscribed by our experiences and emotions; each individual’s consciousness is a collection of memories we’ve
... See moreIn Japan, poems should not be tethered to the entanglement of a person’s ego. Humility, modesty, and a keen eye for small details in the natural environment are key attributes. As Basho said, “If you want to learn about the pine, then go to the pine, if you want to learn about the bamboo, then go to the bamboo. When you have become one with them,
... See moreAndrew Juniper • Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art of Impermanence
Year’s End - Richard Wilbur
Now winter downs the dying of the year,
And night is all a settlement of snow;
From the soft street the rooms of houses show
A gathered light, a shapen atmosphere,
Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin
And still allows some stirring down within.
I’ve known the wind by water banks to shake
The late leaves down, which frozen
... See moreI understood immediately that certain things—attention, great energy, total concentration, tenderness, risk, beauty—were elements of poetry. And I understood that these elements did not grow as grass grows from a seed, naturally and unstoppably, but rather were somehow gathered and discovered by the poet, and placed inside the poem. —Mary Oliver