This Poem was Submitted By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2008-05-09 16:28:22 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Resting In Zero

Space spans, breathes and rests out by a winsome river, gravity tows in music, the notes, presenting blessed in prancing pairs, a zero grows stepped slow staircase descending in sun and then again with cloud the light circles, bending down a subtle water winding, wending soloing stanzas, a humbled hero's crown curved along cautious crow's throne of bending weathered boughs light lived live, in opened embrace liquid, languid, and long... lonely tones highway droning it's two way moans in a solidly slippery space, between harken to avian abodes abound tall trees abide in silent green solace granted in grace of ground bubbles burble in flowing notes a rocky place resound wafting ozone in tiny motes an om, by turns, slowed and increased I stand at a floor in the valley grey a smile in flowing face released tickling my ankles and my toes rock, ant and blue jay standing sentry planet singing of poetry and prose, prana stinging my nose my troubles drained to empty here at the verge of weighted urge all seven doors of spirit gain entry

Copyright © May 2008 Regis L Chapman

Additional Notes:
So this beautiful day was spent in Granite Flat- a small camping park near Truckee here. I was in between teaching yoga classes- one in the morning and another late afternoon. I spent my time here absorbing the peace which flowed from being in between the road right next to this park and the river on the other side. It's gray rocks and huge trees otherwise with moraine and scree distributed throughout the valley. An amazing day. I have become slowly a mountain creature in there last 3 months since leaving the ashram, and I can see why yogis since time immemorial have come to them seeking solace.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2008-06-03 17:33:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Regis, this is delicious in so many ways, rich in verbiage and then you also share a knowledge imparted to you through your meditation. Soon you'll be sailing the canyon walls, wadeing the waters and tasting the auras presented even when you aren't there, you've taken them on and made them your own--now they will remain with you along with the wisdom they've imparted to you. The structure of your poem lends well to the subject matter and your verbiage creates fresh images to dance in the enlightened mind. The sounds of silence, the heavens breath that you hear, the song of the universe will resonate always for you just as you've shared this poem of these wonders with us. I find no nits with your write and applaud your gift for shareing such unique gifts of extra site with us. I look forward to reading more of your meditative exploits...the peace they offer, the life lessons they give. Best always, Lora


This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2008-05-20 08:53:19
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
From the read my friend your words brought me to Granite Flat and a most enjoyeable place it was. Your words brought it to life with its river flowing, the rocks and huge trees and the beauty of it all. Even the road was inviting being no wonder why you so enjoy the mountain area so much. It must be some view to also see the valley with its natural beauty too. As always it is so nice to find your work here on the link and I hope you will stay awhile longer. Indeed it is sad to find no one at home here as in comparison to days gone by....perhaps it will take just one strong poet to keep the link flowing with words calling others to come in and share as well. I was glad to find a poem from Dellena too......God Bless and keep the words flowing, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-05-10 09:39:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
I spent childhood summers with my grandfather who ran the kitchens for an exclusive TB camp in Valmora, New Mexico. A ridge parted the way between it and the ruins of Fort Union. Upon that ridge was a cave where a hermit had been living for over a decade. No one went near since it had been rumored he would throw rocks at intruders. But as a boy, eager to learn how he survived with no trips into town and no contact with others, I couldn't let it go without a try to visit him. The rumor was wrong. Though we may confront humanity on the stages of life, you and I both know real connections are not found there. Even sadly, bethrothed connections. At some point or another we turn inward (or we don't) to venture where these real connections (and how) might be found and made. It is then we notice the magnificent wonders untold to us before, how there can be a "crows throne", differences in the "moan" between lanes of a highway, where words are not the true entry always but part of it only and stream is better unsaid than, "I stand at a floor in the valley grey/a smile in flowing face released tickling my ankles and toes..." You have not just answered a way, "...doors of spirit gain entry..." but again, unspokenly given insight into just what poetry can likewise become. Or, better, delivered. The best subtitle for your wonderful poem is the line, "my troubles drained to empty". Leading so well to what comes of looking inside newly, "at the verge of weighted urge", succeeding on to, "all seven doors of spirit gain entry". All the difference to being to but representing. I cannot express to you how welcome your poem is to me. JCH
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