---=== ( DALE R. BROADHURST  HOMEPAGE ) ===---

 Nepal  Poetry

Dale's Poetry -- Written or Edited in Nepal (1983-86)

-- Your World -- (1985)

"Close the door"
  You said, with only a hint of hesitation.
And so I did.

"Close your eyes."
  You said, with only a hint of expectation.
And I did that too.

"The world is changed," you whispered.
  So I opened my eyes--
    to your world.

Outside the women carried water;
  The little boys walked hand-in-hand.
In the market the men played cards;
  The girls hid behind their shawls.

But you weren't playing
  and you weren't hiding.
You were real-- You were free,
  when I entered your world.

Unka Dale


-- Nepali Nightfall -- (1985)

From my window come the night sounds,
The Earth turns into sleep.
Leaving me in lantern-light-- remembering.

The while between twilight and midnight,
Allows moments of contemplation.
Touching me again with aloneness.

The night's embrace deepens.
Would that Thine might also
  be here upon my restlessness.

Through all the days and nights,
In far away places,
I've waited longingly for Thee.

-- Nepali Dawn -- (1985)

Voices in the distance tell me morning's come.
  I open my eyes: blurs of dark and light.
The cracks in my window shutters turn to turquoise,
  And I know the sun is come.

Light: soft, multi-hued morning light,
  Your gentle sprinkle turns to downpour--
  not of moisture, but of radiant electricity.
Now I partake of warmth again.

How Thou touchest my soul, the core of my being!
  Awaited morning-- breaking my fast,
I savour Thy bouquet;
  I blend my being with Thine.

Through all the nights and days,
In far away places,
I'll take joy in Thee.

Unka Dale
(livin' in a mud hut in the Himalayas)


-- These Latter Days --

During the latter ages you have been,
Gradually casting off layer after layer.
Dissipating the fog thrown 'round your mind,
This misty morning of human wisdom.
the intellect itself--
Until now.
now you are beginning.
beginning to awaken.
awaken and see!
Ever thinning clouds atop My mountain.
Granting glimpses of My countenance.
The Latter Day Glory-- beyond all expectation.

from "The Impersonal Life" pg. 13
adapted by Dale Broadhurst


-- A Bit of Poetry -- (1986)

  So again he questioned:
How can it be that you promise me your love?
For I'm certain that you'll forsake me,
  or failing that, you will leave me,
  or in any event you will die and leave me
Without you.

  But she answered him saying:
Take, eat of this body.
Take, drink of this blood.
  Thus wed thy soul to His.

And when you touch a child in love;
  or dry another's tears;
  or turn away wrath--
With gentleness, you will hear Him saying:

"Lo, I will be there with you.
And never will I forsake you."

Uncle Dale
(contemplating women in the priesthood)


Wasatch Morning (1983)

A fog shrouded stillness in morning nearly spent
  Petrified sentinels standing aloof from motionkind
Guardians of ages, blind immensity overseeing all
  Untouchable distant summit mist land.

Remoteness of everlasting rock, empty hardness
  Reigning beyond the ceaseless flow of days
Witnessing in silence this kleidoscopic epic, life
  A stone's throw, upward, upward, until--

The space between filling, melting, flowing
  Rolling away in rainy ragged grey billows
Pouring softly down chasms, dark declivities
  Stone strewn slopes carressed by thin warm rain.

If the spirit of the Goddess were not so strong
  If She did not pour through our being, into our lives
I wouldn't try so hard-- I could ignore it all
  And yet, the risk is worth the effort. I believe.

Almost graspable here in this envelopedness
  Drawn to the almost-warmth of almost-spring
Elude me as you may here in this life
  In grey misty mornings I come close to Thee.

And from these still snow bespeckled crags
  I wrest a fragment of Thy mountain being
Here, speaking at long-last Thy secret name
  I'm lost in wonder and dissolved in Thee.


-- O Daughter of Zion in Latter Days --

Come unto Christ!
and lay hold upon every good gift,
and touch not the evil.
Arise from the dust, O Jerusalem!
Put on thy beautiful garments
O Daughter of Zion!
and strengthen thy stakes
and enlarge thy borders
Be not confounded!
that the covenants of the Eternal Father
which He hath made unto thee,
O house of Israel,
Be fulfilled!

adapted from Moroni 10:27-28 (RLDS)


-- Doesn't Hold a Candle To: --

Doesn't hold a candle to:
Eliza Lucy Emma Kimball Rigdon Snow Mack-Smith,
the humble wife of the martyred body guard of
the Prophet.

She was struck down with the palsy, giving birth
to sextuplets in a snowbank at Sugar Creek, while
watching the Nauvoo temple go up in flames to the
tune of "There's a Star-Spangled Beehive Humming
Somewhere," played by the Warsaw Greys' Hummin', 
Drummin' and Cider-Sippin' Corps.

However she lived to make it to Nibley Ward, Cache
Valley-- where she was the first white woman to
climb to the bottom of Tanner's Cave (to retrieve a
horseshoe thrown by Elder Orson Tanner Young Smith 
Hyrum Hyde's bay mare).  While at the bottom of the
cave she was set upon by the last surviving cumom
in North America and hugged to death by the furrycritter.

Eliza Lucy Emma Kimball Rigdon Snow Mack-Smith was
honored at her 1847 funeral for having baked the
finest cornbread in all of Deseret, and for having
given her shoes to a passing Missourian headed for
Oregon. Eliza not only walked barefoot from Council
Bluffs to the Valley-- she did so carrying all six of the
infants and never spilled a drop of her husband's Postum.
Desolation, Nevada-- my aunt Petunia!

the ol' geezer


-- Old Heber and the Hotel Utah Elevator --

It was the first spring conference after the war--
(1920 I believe) and great-uncle Heber had at last
been persuaded to make the jouney to the Valley on
the Oregon Short Line. He took along great-aunt
Ezmeralda and lil' Nephi (still in knee-pants).

The haywagon ride to Ashton was uneventful-- The
train ride down to Ogden had Heber worried, "Man
wasn't meant to move at this speed" he whispered
into Ezzie's ear.

In Ogden cousin Lemuel met them at the train station
and they all drove down to temple square in his
Model T, eatin' last year's apples and talking 
about alfalfa crops.

At the Hotel Utah Heber saw his first elevator. He
had no idea what he was looking at as one person
after another walked behind the two metal doors and
disappeared from view.

About then an elderly sister in a calico dress and
sunbonnet walked up and put her suitcase down
beside Heber. "Would you mind watching this for a
minute, sir?" She said-- then disapeared behind the
mysterious doors.

When the lady reached the tenth floor she was met
by her daughter, who was decked out in a very similar
costume. "Oh, dearie, can you go down and fetch my
suitcase from the old farmer in the lobby?" she
asked the good-looking, buxom daughter.

Heber was still standing in front of the elevator.
He'd seen a half dozen folks go in, but nobody
had come out until the daughter in the calico dress
and sunbonnet walked out from behind the doors.

"Thank you for watching the suitcase." she said, 
and walked off with it to the registration counter.
Heber's jaw dropped dropped four inches. He felt
a little dizzy.

Just then lil' Nephi walked up. "What's behind them
doors, pa?" the tike inquired?  

"Well, I ain't quite sure, son-- but would you please
go and get yer ma. I just had one heck of an idea..."

Unka Dale


-- HomeLand -- (1985)

Distant apple-pied old glory land.
Amber-waved mother of a country.
I'm remembering you today.
Did I ever really know you?

I pledge allegiance to the flag of...
... to a double-pointed hunk of red cloth?
Nepali flag-- what an astounding idea!
Can you surrender to a banner?

Symbol of a place; emblem of a people.
Something to wave over the crowd.
Home of the brave; land of the free,
No, now not even that.

Are all thy good crowned with sisterhood?
Or were you written before human-lib?
"What castes do you have in 'merica, teacher?"
W.A.S.P. caste-- Was that my tribe?

"Do you practice Christ-dharma in USA, guru?"
Me? W.A.S.R.L.D.S. caste maybe-- Latter Day What?
"Doesn't Nepal need multi-party, rule, guru?"
Make that W.A.S.U. (U for untellable).

Far off pot of melting mixed marriages,
Land of space weapons and rocky mountains--
I'm remembering you today.
Did I ever really know you?

Unka Dale

(...ex-patriated Americans, feelin' so all alone)
(telling themselves the same lies here)
(that they told themselves back home...)


-- Pursue Not the Butterfly -- (1984)

Have you heard some melody,
coming unexpectedly;
Lingering less than twilight ray,
you felt it slip and fade away?

The nature of the Muse is this--
to awaken and inspire;
To bring to us on fairy wings,
refrain that all of nature sings.

To once more experience,
joy of human variance;
Each individuality,
partaking thus of Unity.

In moments touched so with song,
our souls know that all belong;
Within one realm where joining Love,
mirrors below all that's above.

But when I heard that song on the radio--
I was tempted to shut up my ears.

It took me by surprise--
It sang too much of life.
I never found out the title.
much less knew the singer;
And by now I'm quite convinced,
that it isn't sold in music stores.

It's only when I close my eyes--
That I remember what it was like.

I learned something from all that:
-- learned to let the melody be
-- learned to catch a glimpse
Out of one corner of my eye.

Pursue not the butterfly!

I sometimes imagine that,
with one such as you;
I might somehow break the rules,
and seek some deeper intimacy.

How rare a thought!

Catching more than glimpse of eye;
Pursuing more than butterfly!

An idea meant first to repel--
like guardian demons at temple's door
set to flight all the unprepared.

The mystery of the sanctuary
wasn't meant for such as those
who tend water-buffalo on the hillside.

An idea meant second to compel.
like incense in the early morning
awakens the senses to the day.

Where is She who would seek
that which is beyond
  repulsion and compulsion?

A lifetime spent in preparation--
for what?
A day wasted in anticipation--
of what?

Joy and suffering are the twin poles of the vajra.
What is that which joins the poles?
The Holy Dharma!

Call it by name, and your preparation,
your ever-yearning anticipation,
is all for naught.

Pursue not the butterfly!

The Red Dakini danced in my dreams.
She danced upon the dwarf of ignorance.
From her hands the bow of dharma
sent forth the diamond arrow.

The Green Tara appeared in my dreams.
She sat enthroned upon the lotus.
Her hands set in ineffible mudra
summoned forth the thunderbolt.

I learned something from all that:
-- learned to let the melody be
-- learned to catch a glimpse
Out of one corner of my eye.

Pursue not the butterfly.

Unka Dale
(readin' 2nd Nephi in Tibet, Dec. 1984)


-- In All That Toil --  (1984)

Gone one year, and that much known,
Of calendar, if not of aught that's else--
By what hand turned the rocks wondering not,
So much as I, what worth was wrought.

In all that toil, tiresome tearstained trouble,
Came queer, coniving consequence.
Asking-- nay, forthwith demanding, all that BE
it great or small, which doth upmake this "me".

And I in dread despair could not but turn,
To shadow play and puppetry-- yes, it was--
-- was only that, if we could now compare
the rider and the road, from here to there.

When then left would be of such thoughts?
Of bus rides, sodas, smiles and rugs.
With all these symbols we must use,
If wish we have, time to abuse.

Oh wrestle not with Almighty Fury,
Poet Hopkins, Loyola's conquering breed!
Consider-- yes do -- the Sacred Heart again,
And see what blindness tells now
                             as sin?

Unka Dale
(the Mormon Jesuit)


-- Into Everything --  (1983)

Looking down through clear still waters
  Looking up through empty endless skies
Catching glimpses of that which is
  In the midst of what only seems to be

Lighter and lighter the footfalls coming
  'Til naught but void fills void
The very zephyrs of vally air breezing
  Through this illusion: flesh, bone, blood

Vital force of body nolonger ending
  At fingertips, at skin's seeming barrier
But rather reaching out beyond sight
  To flow in currents unfathomable

Touching everything, everywhere, everywhen
  Networks of spider-webbed complexity
Joining fragments, linking particles
  "Til naught but self reaches unto Self

A center everywhere-- now here, then there
  Motion on the changeless face of eternity
Motion from where the center was
  Motion to where the center is-will be

Looking out through constant change
  Observing observation only, changes only
The point of symmetry is rediscovered
  And change changes changelessness

Unka Dale
(the poor man's mystic)


-- Musical Teddy Bears -- (1982)

The thing about musical teddy bears is that
They exist in two seperate worlds:
The realm of sound-- the kingdom of sight.

They bring their admirers into both at once-
Dimensional doorways intersecting.
So we recognize them at the cross-roads.

Is it they that dream the dream?
Or is it the dream which dreams them?
Clever creatures-- those musical teddy bears!

Uncle Dale


-- My Mormon Friend -- (Jan. 1978)

Sophisticatedly naive, she's so fearfully self-confident!
She's dreamily planning while gainfully losing--
This stormy sunshine is a river running to the sea.

Faithfully questioning, she's returning, listening-learning.
"Let me alone! Hold me close!" The words they come and go.
Her words spoken and all her emotions held-- held back.

Givingly keeping, she's showingly waiting.
Her anger an iceberg tip that fast melts away.
Knowledge dearly won brings golden rays and burning sun.

Teasingly critiquing, humming an old song off the radio.
She reads her Omni from a printing-- with different verses.
Frowningly peering, solemnly nearing my own foreign edition.

Picking flowers, she's adrift-- her mind in the rainbows.
She wants it all: experience, wonder, love and hope.
Filling my emptiness, it's a pathway to the ALL.

Spending energy till the fire embers out and sleeps.
Her days fly by while the hours last forever.
Patterns now fit, when there's plenty of brown thread.

Trying so hard to do it write-- she's looking a second time.
She's all snarls and tangles, but later the hair combs easy.
Easy, easy-- quietly now. I'll tuck blankets 'neath her chin.

Smiling days going rightly, she's singing-winging brightly.
Hiding the Dialogues before the ward teachers arrive.
Someone understands! A silent pride stirs within.

Nolonger caring, she chases the grey days away.
Her tears and laughter, openly waiting--
Golden girl, Ann-ticipating--

Uncle Dale
(for the late Ann Chidister Van Orden)


-- Chemistry -- (1977)

Funny thing about oxygen,
It seems to be at the center of things.
Almost makes you think,
Everything was meant to burn up
               sooner or later.

Evolution keeps trying,
To find a better way of burning.
I mean, after all, weren't gills enough?
Why did we have to go and
                develop lungs?

Oxygen to the brain!
Oxygen to the brain!
That ancient cry--
                of fish struggling,
                to become poets.
                of dinosaurs,
                yearning to fly.

Take away the oxygen, and what,
I ask you, is left?
                brain death,

No wonder the yogi types,
Watch their breathing so carefully.
Transcendence is just another kind of

Uncle Dale


-- Plurality of the Gods --

Being a god is rather relative.
Seems there's always someone more advanced,
Who appears in burning bushes and lays down the law.

You just get your own little creation going.
Some being with a higher degree comes along,
And beats you on your own Monopoly board.

Being God is something that's gonna ellude us.
Progressing eternally up the celestial ladder,
We'll have to backtrack to get it right.

Uncle Dale


-- Simple Truths -- (1977)

That unselfishness is the lesson we're here to learn.
That children see more clearly than we.

That love is rain and sunshine all mixed together.
That hate is fear.

That flowers are the most powerful of all life-forms.
That what is not destroyed in testing is strengthened.

That if we all believed strongly enough, it would happen.
That love does not have a past or a future-- but is now.

That the first step is to depend upon yourself.
The the second step is not to depend upon yourself

Uncle Dale


-- Thought For the Day -- (1976)

A mind with total self-control
Over how it chooses to think
Could imagine all sorts of realities
Could create all those worlds anew each day
And choose which one to live in

We do everything we can to stop such madness
And it's a pity, a crying shame
What would we be
If we could really see?

And another thought--

Religions are the traps that the ALL
Has put in our way
To make the game of coming home
Just a bit more fun
It's got a warped sense of humor
           that ol' ALL

Uncle Dale


Shangra-La  (1962)

In a far, far distant land
Through hill, and river and vale
Through mountain passes and silver streams
Stands the castle of my dreams.

Golden doors and silver walk
Crowned with ramparts, diamondlike
Radiant, glistening in sunlight beams
A palace splendid, land of dreams.

Silence reigns, forgotten pains
Silver thoughts, forget-me-nots
Bluer skies, brighter eyes
Misty gates, heaven waits.


The Vedanta and I (1976)

You can't have a bullseye without a target.
You can't have a cloud without a sky.
So-- What do you you do
When you realize you're God?

Splinter yourself back into pieces.
Cosmic egg collapses in this cosmos,
Only to big-bang out into amother.
Existing as infinite love gets dull after all.
Without creation-- God is very slightly

As soon as creation got created,
It lost something-- it's total realization
of IS-ness.
This babyness of the soul.

But all is well after all.
It's a big secret:
You'll have your turn at all the
Parts in this play.

The ultimate game!
Audience participation: 100%
Not only seeing it,
But also being it.


And I, in Days Gone by (1978)

A radience slowly gathering
Softly stealing my attention
'til my being, like a fluttering leaf
Is out of control of my "I"

World of worlds
In every direction
Sound of sounds
In every dimension-- of my soul

This blinding light
This soft starry sight
One in the same
Is beyond name


Synthesis - Part Two  (1978)

G.W.F. Hegel was born in 1778.  He died in 1831.

The great grey sea bathes the stern towering cliffs
And children play upon the golden beach between

Justice, that proud logician, stands stiffnecked
Until Mercy, warm and tender, gives him respite

A loom was set up in the bedchamber of Ulysses
The woolen strands run cross one another-- in two directions

A unit can do almost nothing; a zero that alone
Put them into a binary computer and see what things come out

Even the lone star in the sky
                          has the sky behind it

Wherefore, I speak the same words unto one nation
like unto another. And when the two nations shall
run together, the testimony of the two nations
shall run together also...


Life (1976)

Behind all the illusion is the sustaining such-ness
And yet all perceptible such-ness is only illusion
It flows, constantly flows; its change is changeless

To live. Live with the illusion but not within it
It's the source of all of that which teaches you
It dances, always dances; its surface is its depth

Live in the body and live in the mind-- for awhile
Live in the soul and live in the spirit-- for a time
And when you've mastered all of that, then, then--

Your endless journey will begin.


Evolution  (1976)

The rocks, the sea, the clouds and the sun,
They know your life is more than just one.
But when will you know-- when will you see,
Your own evolution is love flowing free?

You live your life in your own little cage,
We read those words written on your page.
Can't you come down from your high tower?
Can't you come down, realize your true power?

The sun that's within so radiant shines.
You're more than your self-- more than your mind,
You're all the stars that blaze in the skies,
When you open your heart, your hands, and your eyes.

The rocks, the sea, the clouds and the sun,
They know your love is for everyone.
You have a secret-- you are the key,
To live you must give
        you must feel
        you can be.


-- When Life's Temptations -- (1998)

When life's temptations
Overcome my soul
And the world's sensations
Lead me from the fold

Ohhh-ohhh-ohhh, Lord
Have mercy--
Oh my sweet Lord
Deliver me--

When wisdom's waning
Overcomes my soul
And my complaining
Leads me from the fold

Ohhh-ohhh-ohhh, Lord
Have mercy--
Oh my sweet Lord
Deliver me--

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Last revised: Nov. 15, 2005