Stickgrappler's Sojourn of Septillion Steps: Poetry

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Friday, November 27, 2015

Bruce Lee's Poetry

11/27/2015 10:54:00 AM Birthday, Bruce Lee, Movies, Poetry No comments

Bruce Lee would've been 75 years old today.

In his honor, I'm posting some of his poetry. 7 poems from "Bruce Lee: Artist of Life" edited by John Little. There are 17 more poems in it. 3 other poems from sources as noted.

Enjoy!

Click for larger pic

Into a soul absolutely free
From thoughts and emotion,
Even the tiger finds no room
To insert its fierce claws.

One and the same breeze passes
Over the pines on the mountain
And the oak trees in the valley;
And why do they give different notes?

No thinking, no reflecting,
Perfect emptiness;
Yet therein something moves,
Following its own course.

The eye sees it,
But no hands can take hold of it—
The moon in the stream.

Clouds and mists,
They are midair transformations;
Above them eternally shine the sun and the moon.

Victory is for the one,
Even before the combat,
Who has no thought of himself,
Abiding in the no-mind-ness of Great Origin.

Source: Tao of Jeet Kune Do (1975), page 2

RAIN, BLACK CLOUDS

Rain,
Black clouds,
Fallen blossoms and pale moon,
The hurried flight of birds
The arrival of lonely Autumn
The time for us to part.

The clouds above are floating across the sky
Swiftly, swiftly passing,
Or blending together.

Much has been said, yet we have not
Come to the end of our feelings.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.

The good time will probably never come back again.
In a moment—our parting will be over.
When days are short and dull nights long

Read this poem I leave you, read it
When the silence of the world possesses you,
Or when you are fretted with disquiet.
Long must be this parting, and
Remember, remember that all
My thoughts have always been of you.

Source: Bruce Lee’s handwritten poem entitled “Rain.” Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 93)

THE DYING SUN

The dying sun lies sadly in the far horizon.
The autumn wind blows mercilessly;
The yellow leaves fall.

From the mountain peak,
Two streams parted unwillingly,

One to the West, one to the East.
The sun will rise again in the morning.
The leaves will be green again in spring.
But must we be like the mountain stream,
Never to meet again?

Source: Bruce Lee’s handwritten poem entitled “The Dying Sun.” Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 95)

FOR A MOMENT

For a moment
The surrounding utters no sound.
Time ceases.
The Paradise of Dreams come true.

Source: Bruce Lee’s handwritten poem. Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 100)

THE FROST

Young man,
Seize every minute
Of your time.

The days fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.

If you believe me not,
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white and cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.

Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?

With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter;
With your sadness
Start my tears.

Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?

Source: A poem entitled “The Frost,” by Tzu-yeh, that was translated by Bruce Lee. (Artist of Life, page 110)

THE FALLING LEAF

The wind is in high frolic with the rain.
Outside the garden a little yellow leaf
Clinging desperately to its mother branch.

I pick up the leaf
And put it in the book,
Giving it a home.

Source: Bruce Lee’s handwritten poem. Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 111)

THOUGH THE NIGHT WAS MADE FOR LOVING

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon.

And so the time flies hopefully
Although she’s far away.

Other thoughts may come and go,
But the thought of you,
Remains deeply in my heart.

Source: Bruce Lee’s handwritten poem. Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 112)

Jeff Cooper as Cord in Circle of Iron (1978)
Click for larger pic

THE SILENT FLUTE

I wish neither to possess,
Nor to be possessed.
I no longer covet paradise,
More important, I no longer fear hell.

The medicine for my suffering
I had within me from the very beginning,
But I did not take it.
My ailment came from within myself,
But I did not observe itUntil this moment.

Now I see that I will never find the light
Unless, like the candle, I am my own fuel,
Consuming myself.

Source: “Cord’s closing speech,” quoted from Bruce Lee’s copy of the script of The Silent Flute, written by Bruce Lee, dated October 19, 1970. Bruce Lee Papers. (Artist of Life, page 113)

These next 2 poems were in a letter from Bruce Lee to Jhoon Rhee.

Who am I?

Who am I?
That is the age-old question
Asked by every man
At one time or another.

Though he looks into a mirror
And recognizes the face,
Though he knows his own name
And age and history,
Still he wonders, deep down,
Who am I?

Am I a giant among men,
Master of all I survey,
Or an ineffectual pygmy
Who clumsily blocks his own way?

Am I the self-assured gentleman
With a winning style,
The natural born leader
Who makes friends instantly,
Or the frightened heart
Tiptoeing among strangers,
Who, behind a frozen smile, trembles
Like a little boy lost in a dark forest?

Most of us yearn to be one,
But fear we are the other.
Yet we CAN be
What we aspire to be.

Those who cultivate
Their natural instincts,
Who set their sights
On the good, the admirable, the excellent,
And believe they can achieve it
Will find their confidence rewarded.

And, in the process,
They will discover the true identity
Of him who looks back from the mirror.

Which Are You?

The doubters said,
“Man cannot fly.”
The doers said,
“Maybe, but we’ll try,”
And finally soared
Into the morning’s glow,
While nonbelievers
Watched from below.

The doubters claimed
The world was flat.
Ships plunged over its edge,
And that was that!

Yet a brand new world
Some doers found,
And returned to prove
This planet round.

The doubters knew
’Twas fact, “Of course,
No noisy gadget
Would e’er replace the horse.”

Yet the carriages
Of doers, sans equine,
Came to traverse
All our roads in time.

But [to] those who kept saying
“It can’t be done,”
Never are the victories
Or the honors won.
But, rather,
By the believing, doing kind,
While the doubters
Watched from far behind.

Source: Bruce Lee's handwritten letter to Jhoon Rhee. Jhoon Rhee Archives. (Artist of Life, pages 254-255)

This next poem is not written by Bruce Lee. He liked it so much, he wrote a copy of it.

Click for super large pic

Thinking by Walter D. Wintle
(also known as "The Man Who Thinks He Can")

If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don't.
If you'd like to win, but you think you can't,
It is almost a cinch that you won't.

If you think you'll lose, you're lost;
For out of the world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will
It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you're outclassed, you are;
You've got to think high to rise.
You've got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win the prize.

Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man;
But sooner or later the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can!

SOURCE: From my research, this Bruce Lee handwritten unsigned poem was auctioned in June 2010 and sold for $12,756.00!

Please check out these selected Bruce Lee-related entries...

Animated GIF's of Bruce Lee:

Videos of Bruce:

Hymn to Ares "by" Homer

3/09/2015 10:59:00 AM Homer, Poetry No comments

Click for larger resolution picturePic source: ARH Studios

HYMN TO ARES

"Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden- helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities, harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of death."

- attributed to Homer

From wiki:

The Homeric Hymns are a collection of thirty-three anonymous Ancient Greek hymns celebrating individual gods. The hymns are "Homeric" in the sense that they employ the same epic meter—dactylic hexameter—as the Iliad and Odyssey, use many similar formulas and are couched in the same dialect. They were uncritically attributed to Homer himself in Antiquity—from the earliest written reference to them, Thucydides (iii.104)—and the label has stuck. "The whole collection, as a collection, is Homeric in the only useful sense that can be put upon the word;" A. W. Verrall noted in 1894, "that is to say, it has come down labeled as 'Homer' from the earliest times of Greek book-literature."

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

IN MEMORY OF: Kobayashi Issa (小林一茶, June 15, 1763 - January 5, 1828)

1/05/2015 10:54:00 PM Haiku, In Memory Of, Kobayashi Issa, Poetry No comments

Picture Credit: Wiki

Kobayashi Issa (小林一茶, June 15, 1763 - January 5, 1828) was a Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest of the Jōdo Shinshū sect known for his haiku poems and journals. He is better known as simply Issa (一茶), a pen name meaning Cup-of-tea (lit. "one [cup of] tea"). He is regarded as one of the four haiku masters in Japan, along with Bashō, Buson and Shiki - "the Great Four, Basho, Buson, Issa, Shiki".

Reflecting the popularity and interest in Issa as man and poet, Japanese books on Issa outnumber those on Buson, and almost equal in number those on Bashō.

Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku, which have won him readers up to the present day. Issa wrote 54 haiku on the snail, 15 on the toad, nearly 200 on frogs, about 230 on the firefly, more than 150 on the mosquito, 90 on flies, over 100 on fleas and nearly 90 on the cicada, making a total of about one thousand verses on such creatures'. By contrast, Bashō's verses are comparatively few in number, about two thousand in all).

In his honor, I'm posting some of my favorite haikus and prose he wrote.

Enjoy!

In the city fields
Contemplating cherry-trees...
Strangers are like friends.

In the cherry blossom's shade there's no such thing as a stranger.

Everything I touch
with tenderness, alas,
pricks like a bramble.

Even in warmest
glow
how cold my shadow.

In this world
we walk on the roof of hell,
gazing at flowers.

In the midst of this world
we stroll along the roof of hell
gawking at flowers

Before this autumn wind
even the shadows of mountains
shudder and tremble.

The holes in the wall
play the flute
this autumn evening.

Bright moon,
welcome to my hut -
such as it is.

P!ssing in the snow
outside my door—
it makes a very straight hole.

Just beyond the gate,
a neat yellow hole
someone p!ssed in the snow.

O snail
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!

Reflected
in the dragonfly's eye --
mountains.

Arise from sleep, old cat,
And with great yawns and stretchings ...
Amble out for love.

When the wild turnip
burst into full blossom
a skylark sang

I'm going out,
flies, so relax,
make love.

Giddy grasshopper
Take care...do not leap and crush
These pearls of dewdrop.

Ah, the sad expression
in the eyes of that caged bird -
envying the butterfly!

Right at my feet --
and when did you get here,
snail?

Don't kill!...
The fly is asking you
To save his life
By rubbing his hands together

Like some of us
he looks very important -
this snail.

A huge frog and I,
staring at each other,
neither of us moves.

The snail gets up
And goes to bed
With very little fuss.

Where there are humans,
You'll find flies,
And Buddhas.

All the time I pray to Buddha
I keep on
killing mosquitoes.

In spring rain
a pretty girl
yawning.

Blossoms at night,
and the faces of people
moved by music.

In the beggar's tin
a few thin copper coins
and this evening rain

Once in the box
every one of them is equal -
the chess pieces

Approaching my village:

Don't know about the people,
but all the scarecrows
are crooked.

Summer night—
even the stars
are whispering to each other.

Writing sh!t about new snow
for the rich
is not art.

The vanity of men
they would like to retain
this passing winter moon.

Brilliant moon,
is it true that you too
must pass in a hurry.

Crescent moon--
bent to the shape
of the cold.

With my father
I would watch dawn
over green fields.

Last time, I think,
I'll brush the flies
from my father's face.

Not gifted with genius but honestly holding his experiences deep in his heart, he kept his simplicity and humanity.

Dew Evaporates
And all our world is dew...so dear,
So fresh, so fleeting.

At the age of 49, Issa married Kiku. Their first-born died shortly after his birth. A daughter died less than two-and-a-half years later, inspiring Issa to write this haiku:

This world of dew
is only a world of dew
-And yet...

Issa’s third child died in 1820 and when Issa was 61, his wife Kiku fell ill and passed away in 1823, he wrote this:

Outliving them,
Outliving them all, -
Ah, the cold!

His death poem:

A bath when you're born,
a bath when you die,
how stupid.

For more information:

Wiki - Kobayashi Issa

"How Did You Die?" by Edmund Vance Cooke

9/26/2014 11:00:00 AM Edmund Vance Cooke, Poetry No comments

From time to time, I come across a poem that is inspirational and powerful. I've included links at the bottom of this page to other poems I've posted in the past.

Today, I'm posting Edmund Vance Cooke's poem for your knowledge/enjoyment/inspiration. I recently read this poem in Col. Jeff Cooper's "Quoth the Raven - Seventeen Points to Ponder".

Enjoy!

Edmund Vance Cooke was born on June 5th 1866, in Port Denver, Ontario, Canada. His first job after leaving school was in a Sewing Machine Factory. In 1893 he left that job to earn a living as a poet, writer, and public speaker. He published his first book of poems, A Patch of Pansies in 1894 and went on to publish a further 15 books of poetry and several books for children. He married Lilith Castleberry in 1898 and they had five children. He became a broadcaster on station, WWJ in Detroit broadcasting his poems live to thousands of listeners. Cooke died in Cleveland, Ohio on December 18th 1932.

How Did You Die?
by Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
    With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
    With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
    Or trouble is what you make it.
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
    But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
    Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
    But to lie there–that's the disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the harder you bounce;
    Be proud of your blackened eye.
It isn't the fact that your licked that counts;
    Its how did you fight and why?

And though you be done to death, what then?
    If you battled the best you could;
If you played your part in the world of men,
    Why the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
    And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
    But only how did you die?

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

"The Road", a poem by Antonio Inoki

8/13/2014 11:00:00 PM Antonio Inoki, Fear, Josh Barnett, Poetry No comments

Josh Barnett faced Dean Lister at Metamoris 4 this past Saturday Aug 9, 2014. Josh had a towel with an inspirational poem written in Japanese and by one of his mentors. Here it is!

Enjoy!

The Road

Don't fear what happens if you keep going on this road,
With fear, there will be no road,
If you give one step, the step becomes a road,
Go on without fear , then you will find out...

~Antonio Inoki

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

Please check out these other Josh Barnett related posts:

NOTE: Posted 8/15/14 and backdated to 8/13/14 to reflect Josh Barnett's posting to the Underground this poem.

"Fearless" - a poem by Renzo Gracie

7/21/2014 11:00:00 AM Poetry, Renzo Gracie, Twitter No comments

Photo Source: Renzo Gracie's Twitter

"Fearless"
by Renzo Gracie

In life we have what we can handle,
Never let them see you flinch or falter,
When you have a chance show them who you are,
Stand proud and hit hard.

In case you missed these other entries on Renzo Gracie, please check out:

For further info on the great Renzo Gracie:

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

"For I Have Strayed From the Path..." - a poem by Stickgrappler

7/21/2014 11:00:00 AM About Me, Poetry No comments

i am no writer ... i am no poet ... a poem I wrote a few months ago about my inconsistent training and getting back onto The Path.

here goes:

For I Have Strayed From the Path

For I have strayed from the Path...
Marriage, Fatherhood, Career,
Weak mind, Weak body, Weak spirit!
Excuses ... all!
Forge myself I must!

For I have strayed from the Path...
Wise friends counsel:
"Do not chastise yourself!"; "Do not regret!";
"Do what you can, when you can!"
Forge myself I must!!

For I have strayed from the Path...
Sojourn of Septillion Steps
begins with but a Single Step.
Excuses, Regrets - Begone!
Forge myself I must!!!

-Stickgrappler
April 7, 2014

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

THE WISDOM OF ... Mother Teresa (Aug 26, 1910 – Sep 5, 1997)

5/11/2014 11:00:00 AM Life Lessons, Poetry, The Wisdom of... No comments

Happy Mother's Day 2014 to all the readers of this site who may be Moms!

Today, I'm continuing my series of "The Wisdom of ..." with a poem by, appropriately on this day, Mother Teresa. She hung up on the wall of her children's home in Calcutta a poem called "Anyway". It was not attributed and because of that this poem is often attributed to her. Without further delay, please check it out.

ANYWAY
People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered,
LOVE THEM ANYWAY
If you do good, people will accuse you of
selfish, ulterior motives,
DO GOOD ANYWAY
If you are successful,
you win false friends and true enemies,
SUCCEED ANYWAY
The good you do will be forgotten tomorrow,
DO GOOD ANYWAY
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable,
BE HONEST AND FRANK ANYWAY
What you spent years building may be
destroyed overnight,
BUILD ANYWAY
People really need help
but may attack you if you help them,
HELP PEOPLE ANYWAY
Give the world the best you have
And you'll get kicked in the teeth,
GIVE THE WORLD THE BEST YOU'VE GOT ANYWAY.

The truth of the matter is that the poem "Anyway", often attributed to Mother Teresa, was a slightly altered version of the below piece.

The Paradoxical Commandments
by Dr. Kent M. Keith

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

© Copyright Kent M. Keith 1968, renewed 2001

Remember: "Do it anyway!"

For other entries in my "The Wisdom of ..." series, please check out:

THE WISDOM OF ...

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

For more information, please check out:

"Samurai Song" by Robert Pinsky (1940-) & World Poetry Day

3/21/2014 11:00:00 AM Poetry No comments

Photo Credit: Jared C. Benedict

Today, March 21, 2014, is World Poetry Day!

I'm posting a poem I literally came across yesterday (props to "Callidus C.") that was pretty good. Additionally, I'm posting a video of the poet reading his own poem. The poet in question is Robert Pinsky. He served three terms as the U.S. Poet Laureate. He founded the Favorite Poem Project, where thousands of Americans of all walks of life shared their favorite poems. He is also the poetry editor of Slate as well as teaching in Boston University.

I present to you "Samurai Song"... enjoy!

"Samurai Song" by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

From "Jersey Rain" (2000).

If you liked this poem, please Share it with your friends by clicking one of the buttons below. I thank you in advance!

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Aubrey Marcus' What is a Warrior?

2/12/2014 11:00:00 AM Aubrey Marcus, Poetry, Warrior No comments

There is a great piece/poem that The Warrior Poet (aka Aubrey Marcus) wrote. This piece in itself is pretty powerful! I've been struggling to put my thoughts down on paper about a similar subject if not the same. Aubrey Marcus does an admirable job in defining a "Warrior"!!

Marcus collaborated with NotThisBody on the below video which more than brings the text to life!

Enjoy!

What is a Warrior? from Warrior Poet on Vimeo.

Full transcript:

What is a warrior? A warrior is a way of life, a way of thinking, a way of being. Carlos Castaneda says we choose only once, to be warriors or ordinary. We choose only once. Because choosing to be a warrior alters your fundamental approach to life. While others will view everything as a blessing or a curse, you see only challenges. And a warrior lives to overcome challenges.

Every warrior has a code, an ethos. It is an invisible thread that connects him to all of his warrior brothers and sisters since the beginning of time. Steven Pressfield asks “How do we find our true calling, our soul companions, our destiny? He answers, “In this task, our mightiest ally is the warrior ethos.”

A warrior never hopes, but he must have faith. Hope is powerless, useless... The longer we sit and hope the more time we waste, because the universe gives only what is sought, what is believed! But yet a warrior must have faith. Because at times not every path is clear, and not every enemy a fiery dragon. When the forest is dark the warrior holds his ground with faith that if he remembers the warrior code, the light to illuminate the darkness will come.

For the warrior, the body is as important as the mind, because the two are inseparable. Danielle Bolleli writes “ A person who knows there is a wild wolf living under the skin has less reason to be intimidated by reality. Even when the power of the mind is in doubt, the body can provide tangible proof.”

A warrior is not an ascetic. He does not deny himself the pleasures of conquest simply for the sake of denying them. He realizes that in denying oneself it is easy to think he is doing great things, when really he is just focused on himself. But neither is the warrior attached to these pleasures. He can walk away from them at any time, and sometimes he does, just to prove it to himself.

The warrior is a natural leader, and he leads under one principle-- Follow me. When Alexander the great was threatened with mutiny after years of a brutal campaign in India, he stripped down naked, so all the men could see his scars. “Bring forth a man who has bled more than me, and we will go home.” No one came forth, because it was Alexander, riding his horse Bucephalus with a double plumed helmet who led every charge. Instead, his men erupted in cheers and pounded their shields.

The Warrior is a Believer. As Paulo Coelho says, “Because he believes in miracles, miracles begin to happen. Because he is sure that his thoughts can change his life, his life begins to change. Because he is certain that he will find love, love appears.”

A warrior is highly tuned to sense danger, but he does not fear. He does not fear because pain is temporary and death is an illusion. What is eternal cannot die, and the warrior knows that he will laugh, he will love, and he will fight for all eternity, in this world or some other.

If he errs, if he wanders, if he indulges in self pity, if he complains... He does not despair. He knows that he is human, and he remembers the choice he made. He picks his sword back up from the ground, and resumes the path of the warrior.

A warrior fights for one reason alone: love. Love of life, love of what is good, love of family, love of tribe, and love of our infinite soul on the quest for impeccability. He lets love swell in his heart, flushing through every cell in his being until he cannot help but proclaim, like Cyrano De Bergerac, “I am going to be a storm -- a flame -- I need to fight whole armies alone. I have ten hearts! I have a hundred arms! I feel too strong to war with mortals. Bring me GIANTS!”

Please check out these other posts on Poetry:

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NOTE: My appreciation to my friend Eddie C. for giving me a heads-up on this!

Poem by Dan Inosanto

3/17/2013 11:00:00 AM Dan Inosanto, Poetry No comments

Throughout history, there were martial artists who also were masters of the Arts. Some of history's famous examples include:

Miyamoto Musashi, in addition to being one of Japan's greatest swordsmen, was also an accomplished artist, sculptor, and calligrapher.
Yamaoka Tesshu, also amongst Japan's greatest swordsmen, was a master of swordsmanship, Zen, and calligraphy.
Cheng Man-ch'ing/Zheng Manqing of Tai Chi/Taiji fame, was often referred to as the "Master of Five Excellences." The Excellences were as follows: poetry, calligraphy, painting, Chinese medicine, and taijiquan.

Let's fast forward to a modern example. Arguably one of the 20th and 21st century's famous martial artists, Guro Dan Inosanto, needs no introduction. I present to you a poem by him:

We are all climbing different paths through the mountain of life,

and we have all experienced much hardship and strife.

There are many paths through the mountain of life,
and some climbs can be felt like the point of a knife.

Some paths are short and others are long,
who can say which path is right or wrong?
The beauty of truth is that each path has its own song,
and if you listen closely you will find where you belong.

So climb your own path true and strong,
but respect all other truths for your way for them could be wrong.

Check out this cool video with a reading of Guro Inosanto's poem:

Did Guro Inosanto's poem inspire you to try your hand at writing poetry?

If you missed the other entries in this series, please check out:

Assorted poems by Yamaoka Tesshu

3/16/2013 11:00:00 AM Kenjutsu, Poetry, Yamaoka Tesshu No comments

Continuing my series on poems which may inspire you to pursue poetry writing or one of the other Arts, today's entry is on Yamaoka Tesshu. He was considered one of Japan's greatest swordsmen. Not only was his skill with the sword superb, his poetry was just as good. Here are a few:

On Training and Enlightenment:

For years I forged my spirit through the study of swordsmanship,
Confronting every challenge steadfastly.
The walls surrounding me suddenly crumbled;
Like pure dew reflecting the world in crystal clarity, total awakening has now come.
Using thought to analyze reality is illusion;
If preoccupied with victory and defeat all will be lost.
The secret of swordsmanship?
Lightning slashes the spring wind!

Mt. Fuji is the subject of his most famous poem and is a classic:

Perfect when clear,
Perfect when cloudy,
Mount Fuji's
Original form
Never changes

Some Doka (Songs of the Way):

Do not desire money,

do not depend on empty principles,

do not seek fame:

just go with what you have

and you will pass safely through this world.

Over a few years

let intimacy

ripen naturally-

the number of friends will be small

but the quality will be very large

If your mind

is not projected

into your hands

even 10,000 techniques

will be useless.

Do not concentrate

On striking your opponent.

Deport yourself naturally

Like moonbeams flooding

Into a leaky cottage.

He knew he was dying and he composed this Death Poem:

Tightening my abdomen

against the pain.

The caw of a morning crow.

Now get to it... starting composing some poems!

If you missed the other entries in this series, please check out:

“Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann (September 26, 1872 – September 9, 1945)

3/15/2013 11:00:00 AM Poetry No comments

Max Ehrmann
Photo Credit: Wiki

Many of the warriors/martial artists of the past were not only masters of the MARTIAL arts, but also masters of the ARTS be it painting, calligraphy, music or even poetry. Check out Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata".

From Wiki:

Desiderata (Latin: "desired things") is a 1927 prose poem by American writer Max Ehrmann. Largely unknown in the author's lifetime, the text became widely known after its use in a devotional, subsequently being found at Adlai Stevenson's deathbed in 1965, and after spoken-word recordings in 1971 and 1972.

Quote:

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Was that good or what?

If you missed the other entries in this series, please check out:

Enjoy!

"If—" by Rudyard Kipling (December 30, 1865 – January 18, 1936)

3/14/2013 11:00:00 AM Poetry, Stoicism No comments

Rudyard Kipling
Photo Credit: Wiki

Continuing with the concept that a Martial Artist should also embrace the "Arts" part of "Martial Artist", here is another poem to enjoy and inspire.

From Wiki:

"If—" is a poem written in 1895 by British Nobel laureate Rudyard Kipling. It was first published in the "Brother Square Toes" chapter of Rewards and Fairies, Kipling's 1910 collection of short stories and poems. Like William Ernest Henley's "Invictus", it is a memorable evocation of Victorian stoicism, self-control and the "stiff upper lip" that popular culture has made into a traditional British virtue. Its status is confirmed both by the number of parodies it has inspired, and by the widespread popularity it still enjoys amongst Britons. It is often voted Britain's favourite poem.

The poem was printed, framed and fixed to the wall in front of the study desk in the officer cadets cabins at the National Defence Academy (NDA) at Pune, India. The poem's lines, "If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / and treat those two impostors just the same" is written on the wall of the Centre Court players' entrance at the British tennis tournament Wimbledon.

Quote:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a man, my son!

If you missed the other entries in this series, please check out:

Enjoy!

Site Under Construction

Slowly but surely I've implemented changes to the site's look and functionality. I'm sure you have noticed the changes. Ecstatic that I've finally been able to successfully update my site closer more in line with my vision of it.

Not sure if it will be the final look of the site or not, but the Sojourn of Septillion Steps with respect to the site's look has already taken quite a few steps beyond the first!

I will still be endeavoring to put up information I think will benefit your martial arts training as well as your self-defense. I sincerely thank you for visiting/reading!

I remain very truly yours in the martial arts and self-defense,

~Stickgrappler

Friday, November 27, 2015

Bruce Lee's Poetry

Monday, March 09, 2015

Hymn to Ares "by" Homer

Monday, January 05, 2015

IN MEMORY OF: Kobayashi Issa (小林一茶, June 15, 1763 - January 5, 1828)

Friday, September 26, 2014

"How Did You Die?" by Edmund Vance Cooke

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

"The Road", a poem by Antonio Inoki

Monday, July 21, 2014

"Fearless" - a poem by Renzo Gracie

"For I Have Strayed From the Path..." - a poem by Stickgrappler

Sunday, May 11, 2014

THE WISDOM OF ... Mother Teresa (Aug 26, 1910 – Sep 5, 1997)

Friday, March 21, 2014

"Samurai Song" by Robert Pinsky (1940-) & World Poetry Day

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Aubrey Marcus' What is a Warrior?

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Poem by Dan Inosanto

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Assorted poems by Yamaoka Tesshu

Friday, March 15, 2013

“Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann (September 26, 1872 – September 9, 1945)

Thursday, March 14, 2013

"If—" by Rudyard Kipling (December 30, 1865 – January 18, 1936)

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