Hey people, I talked to PaladinBen this week, and he said he has to step away from the slam temporarily due to other concerns. I talked to some others about it, and am willing to take over for awhile if necessary. I am not one to lead institutions, but the Friday Night Poetry Slam is vital to my own study and participation in the community, so I feel like I should be willing to lend a hand.
I messaged some other slam regulars, and if others are interested in doing some weeks, we will run it like a co-op going forward (got a late start on it this week, my apologies).
Otherwise I will make a 2 or 3 month project for my Zen study out of it, and take over until u/PaladinBen returns. (Who is a far better poet than I am.)
For this week, I will use a poem of Stonehouse's. I have really enjoyed the recent series on Han Shan, and think another poet who writes from the perspective of a student of Zen is a fun idea.
Here is Stonehouse's own prose introduction to his poems:
> Here in the woods I have lots of free time. When I don't spend it on sleeping I enjoy composing poems. But with paper and ink so scarce, I haven't thought about writing them down. Now some Zen monks have asked me to record what I find of interest on this mountain. I have sat here quietly and let my brush fly. Suddenly this volume is full. I close it and send it back down with the admonition not to try singing these poems. Only if you sit on them will they do you any good.
No wonder I have always liked this poet! Next week, or next time I am doing the slam, I will provide some more background for him. He is an interesting figure to hear about for a student of Zen—as far as the story the records tell goes.
The experiences in the poems and the poetry speak for themselves. Here is the first:
> Grave upon grave buried beneath weeds
> before their funerals they carried gold seals
> but desire is no match for detachment
> and how can ambition compete with restraint
> lured by bait golden fish end up in kettles
> uncaged magic wings fly high
> worldly affairs don't concern a hermit
> I weave my robe from homegrown hemp
—Stonehouse (1272—1352)
And now I'm going to go walk my dog in the mountains–and come back to write you a poem about it.
—Linseed
Welcome to the Friday Night Poetry Slam.
This is the second week I will be posting a poem of Stonehouse’s. As a part of this project, I will be making an OP about him, and the traces he left in the historical record, later this week.
I’m the meanwhile, here is a short snippet from Red Pine’s introduction to The Mountain Poems of Stonehouse:
> Stonehouse was born in 1272 in the town of Changshu , not far from where the Yangtze empties into the East China Sea. Nothing is known about his family or his early life, other than that his father’s surname was Wen () and his mother’s surname was Liu () and that he received the traditional Confucian education for someone from a family of means.
> No one knows either when he started using the name Stonehouse (Shihwu,) or why.
> He probably picked up the name while he was still studying to become an official. It was the name of a cave on Yushan, just outside his hometown.
> Yushan was known for its pine trees, its rock formations, and its springs, in particular a spring that flowed out of a cave as big as a house.
> It was not uncommon for an educated person to assume such a name. Many people took several names in the course of their careers, especially artists and poets.
Here is the second poem from this volume:
> To glimpse the fluttering of shy birds
> I don’t always close the door I made
> a piece of jade is worth more than a cliff
> but gold can’t buy a lifetime of freedom
> the sound of icy falls on a dawn-lit snowy ridge
> the sight of distant peaks through leafless autumn woods
> mist lifts from ancient cedars and clear days last forever
> right and wrong aren’t found in the clouds
The Mountain Poems of Stonehouse
Red Pine & Stonehouse
Alright, poets—show me what you got!
Anyone know any good open mic nights especially for slam poetry in San Diego?
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (14)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
>Oh Wise Gentlemen, ignore me!
>
>Like I ignore you fools.
>
>I’m not stupid, I’m not wise,
>
>from now on I’m just gone.
>
>Into the night, singing in moonlight,
>
>into the dawn, dancing with white clouds.
>
>That’s the way to occupy your hands and mouth!
>
>I can’t just sit still while my hair grows!
_ _ _
Somewhere beyond dawn and dusk--
or, no-- somewhere within them.
You can spit or swallow
a mouth full of song.
Some of you might have gone to the Slam at the Drake Hotel, and some of you might know there's a poetry team that comes out of that Slam every year. So that Team just won the national champinoship at the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word in Guelph, last night. Hamiton came second, Vancouver third, and a Wild Card Team took fourth.
This is TPS's second championship in a row. TPS won it all last year in Peterborough.
These are your national champs (with coach Luke Reece on far left): Cassandra Myers, Gabrielle Cohen, Amoye Eee, Gavin Russell, Jennifer Alicia.
https://preview.redd.it/umg8vkffwbw11.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=63e329180a25c93d55369f2f50ce9aa5a08d542c
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (13)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
>There is a man who makes a meal of rosy clouds:
>
>where he dwells the crowds don’t ramble.
>
>Any season is just fine with him,
>
>the summer just like the fall.
>
>In a dark ravine a tiny rill drips, keeping time,
>
>and up in the pines the wind’s always sighing.
>
>Sit there in meditation, half a day,
>
>a hundred autumns’ grief will drop away.
_ _ _
Between the living and unborn,
Cold Mountain womb is overcrowded.
Felled trees continue the conversation;
one hundred autumns' verses voiceless.
Does tulsa have any spots that do this? I’ve always admired it and would love to attend a session, if there’s any going on in town!
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (11)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>My father and mother were frugal, hard workers.
>
>The grain fields, the vegetable plots,
>
>they left me are as good as any man’s.
>
>My wife keeps the loom click-clacking,
>
>and my boy can goo-goo with the best.
>
>I just clap time for the flowers as they dance,
>
>or sit chin in hand and listen to the birds sing.
>
>And who should come by from time to time
>
>to sigh their admiration? The woodcutters
>
>quite often do!
_ _ _
Who are your dharma parents?
Where do they come from?
What did they teach you?
No nest; claw and fang.
Glance at player's sheet,
Prototype Pixie adept,
Throw rulebook at him.
- Stalington
Ice mage on the run,
An unfamiliar town,
Snowing in Venice.
- Shiver
Data flowing like,
a gentle winding river,
Technomancer Spring.
- Whisper
Pedal to metal,
engine roaring and churning,
far past the red line.
- Gino
Unlike the Tin Man,
I don't need a heart in me,
When my fists are steel.
- Panzer
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (9)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>People ask about the Cold Mountain way:
>
>plain roads don’t get through to Cold Mountain.
>
>Middle of the summer, and the ice still hasn’t
>
>melted.
>
>Sunrise, and the mist would blind a hidden dragon.
>
>So, how could a man like me get here?
>
>My heart is not the same as yours, dear sir . . .
>
>If your heart were like mine,
>
>you’d be here already.
_ _ _
Inquiring dragons' scales are hidden--
ancestor, sister, son, or stranger?
Cold Mountain: Hanshan hears birdsong.
Are those hearts like yours?
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (12)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>Since I came to dwell up on Cold Mountain
>
>how many ten thousands of years have gone by . . .
>
>Accepting chance and change, I hid away by a
>
>spring in a grove;
>
>perched there, just watching, I was satisfied.
>
>Not many come, out among these cliffs,
>
>but white clouds sometimes touch, and pass . . .
>
>Soft grass to lie down on,
>
>blue sky for covers.
>
>Pillowed on a rock. Happy, alive.
>
>I’ll let Heaven and Earth take care of the changes.
_ _ _
arriving and withdrawing from dwelling:
present empires discover bilocational artifacts
reckless conjecture conjectures echolocal thinking
living happiness ; heaven swallowed earth
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (10)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>Parrots live in the Western Lands;
>
>forest huntsmen net them, bring them here.
>
>Courtesans love to play with them, and so
>
>they are well known at Court, in and out all day.
>
>They’re given golden cages to dwell in,
>
>but bolted in, their robes of plumes are ruined.
>
>Better a swan, or a crane . . .
>
>riding the winds high up, well known
>
>to the clouds where they fly.
_ _ _
"Worse" and "better" are cages;
decorations in a burning house.
Hunting forest hearts, Cold Mountain
captures feathers riding the wind.
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (8)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>Master of the sword and brush,
>
>I met three brilliant and virtuous rulers.
>
>In the East they got my letters,
>
>but they were not pleased.
>
>In the West I strove
>
>in battles for them,
>
>but all to no reward.
>
>Mastered the brush and mastered the sword . . .
>
>Today? I’m old of a sudden . . .
>
>What’s left of my life is not worth a word.
_ _ _
Sword and brush are masterless--
within them, there's no virtue.
Virtueless, they illuminate no merit.
That's why Hanshan can't accord.
Striving in battle, seeking reward,
you, yourself, were never masterless.
You could never overcome satisfaction;
"Cold Mountain" became your barrier.
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (6)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>I always wanted to go to East Cliff,
>
>more years than I can remember,
>
>until today I just grabbed a vine
>
>and started up. Halfway up
>
>wind and a heavy mist closed in,
>
>and the narrow path tugged at my shirt:
>
>it was hard to get on. The slickery
>
>mud under the moss on the rocks
>
>gave way, and I couldn’t keep going.
>
>So here I stay, under this cinnamon tree,
>
>white clouds for my pillow,
>
>I’ll just take a nap.
_ _ _
East Cliff, right upon waking--
where does sleep conceal itself?
Here, between the intermittent mists
and characters carved in moss.
Theme: Hanshan's Poems from Cold Mountain -- (5)
^(In Chinese, Hanshan's poems are written in the classical style of eight lines of five characters. Give it a shot.)
^((J.P. Seaton Translation))
>In the city, the moth-browed girl,
>
>her jade pendants like tiny wind chimes chiming.
>
>She is playing with a parrot in the flowers;
>
>she is playing on her p’i-p’a in the moonlight.
>
>Her songs will echo for three months;
>
>a little dance will draw ten thousand watchers.
>
>Nothing lasts as long as this:
>
>beautiful face of the hibiscus,
>
>can’t bear the frost’s caress.
_ _ _
Swatting at a crawling thing:
moths, flies, grasshoppers -- guiding moonlight.
The reflexive habit-ridden consciousness
doesn't hear insects in winter.
What about your young woman?
"Nothing lasts long as this."
Chimes or none, it's singing.
Don't call it an echo.
Just looking for something other than partying, and I haven’t had any luck finding anything.
Okay guys I'm 29F and I have yet to find any bars I actually enjoy. I'm pretty alternative and like poetry tho so I thought maybe you guys could give me some suggestions? It doesn't even HAVE to be a bar with poetry I just want something different. I don't care for sports or the typical scene. I'm your liberal millennial who sits at home playing Pokemon half the time. I don't have much of a social life and wanna build one so any suggestions are appreciated 🙂
Does corvo have any slam poetry or spoken word events?
