Poetry Blog No 180 Heavens Above

HEAVENS ABOVE

This is a revised version of poem originally written many years ago about having watched a lunar

eclipse in the relative darkness of the country, some way from the nearest town. Perhaps it is living in houses with our entertainments- our screens and devices, perhaps it is the light pollution of streetlights and buildings in town and cities that blind us to the wonder-filled fact that the universe is there, right above our heads.

The following poem is in iambics apart from the last two lines, varying mostly from four to five feet with rhymes but with no specific rhyming scheme.

                 HEAVENS ABOVE

“On the big screen they showed us a sun,
But not as bright in life as the real one,

It’s never quite the same as the real one.”

-Bernie Taupman lyric from GREY SEAL Elton John.

And Saturn with white-yellow hue, gleamed far,

light-raying as a bright and eastward star;

and higher yet, the moon sphere, shining-white,

was flooding all of autumn sky with light.

Yet more and stranger happenings were seen-

the left side of the moon was catching rust.

Earth’s shadow-edge, brown-gold to reddish gleam,

the planet shine of air, as red as dusk,

was slowly sliding over lunar sheen.

Then earth’s whole shadow slow-eclipsed its face

and stole its night-bright, whitish beams,

that darkness creeping at a steady pace…

until our whole earth’s shadowing,

grown small by cosmic distancing,

had travelled over, swallowing

all of the moon’s reflected light.

Then fainter stars, at first unseen,

all hidden by the moon’s bright gleam,

were welcomed to our sight.

Then straight above our upturned gaze,

yet far in soundless depths of dark,

like some pale spectre on the night,

there Halley’s comet was departing,

departing never to be seen again

within the days of these, our lives.

And what will be by its return?

What keen and widening eyes

will view it passing in the dark?

Though comet and the moon-dark phase

by legend links misfortune’s ways,

no show upon the screen inside

could match that matchless night.

Heavens above, you left us in awe…

        starry-eyed. 

 

  

Poetry Blog No 179 Narrow Roads to Inner Lands Scene 9

 Taga site

NARROW ROADS TO INNER LANDS SCENE NINE

This scene is a reflection on time, the past and the inevitable passing of outer things. The site of these reflections is famous both for its historical nature and for being a part of Bashō’s journey.

Taga-jō was a fort in Tōhoku established during the campaigns against the Emishi in the eighth century. It was located in what is now the modern city of Tagajō, Miyagi Prefecture. It served as the administrative centre of Mutsu Province. Bashō tells of his visit to the site in Oku no Hosomichi. The ruins of Taga-jō and its former temple have been designated a Special Historic Site. From Wikipedia

Taga Stone

Taga Site present day

NARROW ROADS TO INNER LANDS SCENE NINE

On the road. At the site of the vanished Taga castle- a stone monument, six feet tall and three feet wide marks the place. It is half-hidden in grass. Enter Bashō and Sora with walking sticks and packs. They pause.

BASHŌ (pulling out a drawing and examining it)

We've passed that spot with clusters of tall reeds,

The home of famed, sedge-woven mats of Tofu,

A present from our friend, good Kaemon,

This drawing was so artfully conceived

For us at Sendai with a painter’s skill...

And from its image here I see that we

Are close to Matsushima's offshore islands.

(Bashō hands the drawing to Sora)

SORA (examining it)

That’s so indeed. With ease I think we shall

Reach shelter at the town of Shiogama

By coming nightfall.

BASHŌ

Let us rest a little.

(Bashō and Sora settle themselves by the roadside.)

BASHŌ (with a smile)

A priest I met upon another journey,

All black-robed like a crow and brandishing

A long, gnarled staff, stepped out ahead as if

He had received a free pass to the world

Beyond the Gateless Gate. I fear, however,

I'm not so confident a traveller

In this world or beyond. Still journeying,

Still shaking off attachments to this life,

I'm neither such a priest of purity

Or shadow-grasping, plain man of this world.

I waver endlessly, just like a bat,

That at first glance appears an eerie bird

But at a nearer view more like a mouse.

(with a slight sigh)

For ever understanding that I seek

Somehow eludes a limited perception.

As I once wrote, returning from a journey-

Oh, shedding all else,

Yet some summer road lice still

Crawl upon my robes.

(Bashō and Sora pause, musing. Sora suddenly notices the monument.)

SORA (pointing)

I wonder, Bashō, sir, what's that large stone,

Half-hidden by the grasses of the wayside?

It seems too straightly-sided for the work

Of nature by just alone…and yet it seems

So old… as though it has been standing here

For just so many seasons, lost to counting,

And yet I'm sure it bears the shaping craft

Of human hands.

BASHŌ

Let's go and view it closely.

Perhaps it has some writing on its face.

(Bashō and Sora go over to the stone.)

Yes, there are characters upon the stone;

Engraved, still visible through layered moss.

Above, I read directed distances

From here to many, varied provinces,

Both neighbouring and far away. Yet what

Is seen beneath speaks far more fascination.

This stone is marking that same spot where stood

The long-gone Taga castle, famed in story,

And founded in first year of Jinki, then

Remodelled in the reign of Emperor Shomu.

SORA (musingly)

That makes this monument most ancient.

BASHŌ

                                  Yes,

Astonishingly old. In all of this,

This ever-changing world where all we view

Is bound by ceaseless powers of time's passing;

Where even steep, stone-sided mountains crumble,

Where rushing streams and winding rivers change

Their courses as the years and years flow by,

Defiant rocks are buried by the decades,

Where tall, old trees yield place to fresh, young shoots,

Where all that's past is scattered and decays,

It is a wonder that this monument

Survived the distance of a thousand years,

The ceaseless battering of elements,

To claim a bare existence in our present.

SORA

A bare existence truly, yet still a state

Reminding us of those most ancient times.

BASHŌ (with a sigh)

Yes, Sora, that is true. It makes me feel

That all I write is but like battered leaves,

The golden dross of autumn, soon to be

Swift-borne away by winter’s heartless winds.

SORA

I’m certain that won’t work as way for all

The words of life that you have written, sir.

BASHŌ

Well, be that as it will, it’s sure such thoughts

Are not the gifting of this moment, for

This witness written, this solid memory

Of those who breathed and thought in distant ages

Is blessing on such pilgrimage as ours.

It's here for living eyes (this instant seeing)

As sense of ages past, a sudden feeling

Of presence that is vanished people's lives.

Forgetting all the aches and troubles on

The long and journeyed road I just rejoice

In this most singular and moving moment

And find deep sense of meditation in my heart.

(Bashō pauses, contemplating the monument. Then he gestures to Sora who takes out his writing pad. As Bashō speaks Sora writes down the haiku.)

Much, much of the past

Is brought to mind, standing here.

Long grass by this stone.

(Bashō and Sora remain standing. Lights fade.)