Michael Shepherd Poems

There were two monks who
shared a cell in perfect amity.

Yet they, concerned to perfect their compassion
...

I put the teacup down,
looked up from my book;

and whatever calls the eye
...

At dawn each day, as
the monk awoke upon the polished floor, and
rolled his bedding mat, the Way –
the way things are, the way they follow –
...

His parents guarded the temple,
answered questions; the child
wandered, looked, later read
all that was said;
...

Do spiders do what spiders do
with no alternative?

Or can they wake up one fine day
...

‘The burning flames of anger have parched the stream of my being.
The thick darkness of illusion has blinded my intelligence.
My consciousness drowns in torrents of desire.
The mountain of pride has flung me into the nether worlds.
...

Every few months, a shot rings out
in the desert of the public mind;
another cliché (reading its local newssheet,
chewed cigar in mouth, string tie,
...

This is a thankyou for your poem
though, it may not seem like that, to you -

To be quite honest, I can't now quote
...

If a wise man can be happy,
then happiness must be possible.

If a simple man can be happy,
...