November 2014
I fell in love with words when I started school and reading and writing have been my passion ever since. Since college my reading has been divided among philosophy, fiction and poetry. Although Indian philosophy and poetry have had the greatest impact on my reading and writing (my Ph.D is in Indian philosophy, and my books, The Indian Way, Asian Philosophies, and A Sourcebook in Asian Philosophy established my reputation in the field) Chinese and Japanese poetry have also influenced my poetic sensibilities. In recent years, as I have turned increasingly to writing poetry, I feel that I am beginning to find my own voice.
Words
Sometimes words tumble out of my mouth.
Sometimes words stick in my throat.
Sometimes words strut on the page.
Words are such funny birds
Always flying all around
Looking for places to roost.
They perch on their subjects
Never on the ground
Always looking for objects
On whose wings
They fly away.
Words, words, and more words,
like clouds piled high,
mountains in the sky,
dark with meaning
measured slowly by drops of rain
chasing the rainbow.
And we, in the clearing
after the storm,
we search for the meanings
of these piles of words.
Some people think that
First came things.
So solid, the things themselves.
Then came experience of things,
Always so subjective,
Breeding the ideas
For which we seek words.
When we find the words
They think, all else is lost;
Now, alas, they want to say,
We have nothing but words.
Should someone tell them
That with the words come
The music and the dance of life?
©2014 John M. Koller