Long long ago, my mother’s tender care,

eagerly I think of it.

Held close within my mother’s clothing

there was a different kind of springtime.




Haiku Master Buson

Y. Sawa & E. Shiffert

My happiness

                I find

In filling my emptiness.

My emptiness

                I create

In seeking happiness.

                                    ~Gopal Honnalgere*


Visit The Daily Post @WordPress.com to view this week’s challenge: Split-Second Story…become “a documentary photographer and attempt to capture a candid moment of a person, place, or thing. Put your National Geographic hat on and tell a story by documenting a moment in time through a single image. Capture the thrill of a skate park, or the calmness of a café patio. Let your imagination inspire and guide you.”


fire in the sea

An Anthology of Poetry and Art

Sue Cowing

Same Dream, Same Mirror 

We have dreamt the same dream

during many unraveling autumns;

one joy, one worry binds us.

We put on faces

before the same mirror:

our small flight of swallows

is secure.  We hear

inmortal music

on ancient bronze bells.

            ~Chen Yinke*

The Rose is without Why

To view additional images submitted for this week’s photo challenge reflections visit The Daily Post At WordPress.com


Ancestral intelligence

Vera Schwarcz


from the shadow
of food offerings
the God of Wealth peeks out

Sharul Hafiz Feed Blog

You can tell how much she likes her sweet cake during her sweet attack by how she holds both pieces in her hand as she savors the flavor in her mouth and last eyes the hand which holds her future bite all at the same time. The joy of food for some is very rewarding. because its where they have the most nerve endings attached to taste buds.
via 500px http://ift.tt/1mPXmux

View original post

in the cessation of craving, we touch that dimension of experience that is timeless;

the playful, unimpeded contingency of things emerging from conditions only to become conditions for something else. 


…Known as the ‘womb of awakening’ it is the clearing in the still center of being,

the track on which the centered person moves –

it whispers, “Realize me.”  

But no sooner is it glimpsed then it is gone.*

*source:  unknown