Gliding o'er all, through all,
Through Nature, Time, and Space,
As a ship on the waters advancing,
The voyage of the soul -- not life alone,
Death, many deaths I'll sing.
“Gliding O’er All” by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]
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Category Archives: Free Verse
Long Lost [Free Verse]
crumbled ruins:
once a fine home,
occupants long gone
did their voices
resonate into stone,
trapping something
of their existence:
some subtle indication
that there was life here...
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“Meditation” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
A wise man,
Watching the stars pass across the sky,
Remarked:
In the upper air the fireflies move more slowly.
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“A Glimpse” by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]
A glimpse through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-
room around the stove late of a winter night,
and I unremark'd seated in a corner,
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love,
silently approaching and seating himself near,
that he may hold me by the hand,
A long while amid the noises of coming and
going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together,
speaking little, perhaps not a word.
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“One’s-Self I Sing” by Walt Whitman [w/ Audio]
One's-Self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse.
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is
worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete
is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws
divine,
The Modern Man I sing.
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Survivor [Free Verse]
What a thing to return from war --
a survivor --
To find that so little has survived:
Not the grass, nor garden,
Not the roof, nor lintels...
The homestead, an overgrown ruin:
Like a remnant of a once great
Civilization that was one's
Peace of mind.
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“Autumn” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
All day I have watched the purple vine leaves
Fall into the water.
And now in the moonlight they still fall,
But each leaf is fringed with silver.
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Photographic Deception [Free Verse]
An overexposed photo
feels like it's from ages
ago --
decades past.
But it's from just the other day.
When I was there in person,
opening that shutter,
it didn't feel like the 90's,
but something about that photo
ages it...
and ages me.
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“Gitanjali 7” by Rabindranath Tagore [w/ Audio]
My song has put off her adornments.
She has no pride of dress and decoration.
Ornaments would mar our union;
they would come between thee and me;
their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight.
O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet.
Only let me make my life simple and straight,
like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.
NOTE: This poem is sometimes titled, “My song has put off her adornments,” or – simply – Song VII.
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Speakeasy Stained-glass [Free Verse]
The light of a streetlamp
Streams through the stained glass,
And colors spread stably
Over surfaces below.
Then car after car
Pass by that bar,
And the colors are
Climbing and crawling,
Shifting and sprawling,
As headlamp light, briefly,
Dances through the window --
Kaleidoscope swirling the
Shockingly bright colors
In short-lived arcs.
The window was designed
To evoke a cathedral,
And deny all debauchery...
Oh, how it's failed.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 