Submerge [Haiku]

a turtle
slips into the water:
no sound / no ripple.

Aesthete Levels [Free Verse]

       Anyone
can see beauty
in the flawless.

Artists
can see beauty
in the flawed.

Sages
can see beauty
in chaos.

“Ode on Solitude” by Alexander Pope [w/ Audio]

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by the day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixed; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

“Because I Could Not Stop for Death” (479) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

Because I could not stop for Death —
He kindly stopped for me —
The Carriage held but just Ourselves —
And Immortality.

We slowly drove — He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labour and my leisure too,
For His Civility —

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess — in the Ring —
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -
We passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - He passed us -
The Dews drew quivering and chill -
For only Gossamer, my Gown -
My Tippet - only Tulle -

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground -
The Roof was scarcely visible -
The Cornice - in the Ground-

Since then - ‘tis Centuries - and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity -

Green Fields [Haiku]

the rice fields 
are at their most verdant;
scent of rain.

Cold River Sky [Haiku]

clouds - low & textured -
look yet angrier when seen
in the cold river.

Cormorant Patience [Kyōka]

the cormorant,
glistening & dripping,
must air dry
before it’s a bird again;
humans cramp in the pool.

“There Is a Bird in the Tree” by Kabir [w/ Audio]

On this tree is a bird:
It dances in the joy of life.
No one knows where it is:
And who knows what the burden
Of its music may be?
Where the branches throw a deep shade,
There does it have its nest:
And it comes in the evening
And flies away in the morning,
And says not a word
Of that which it means.
None tell me of this bird
That sings within me.
It is neither coloured nor colourless:
It has neither form nor outline:
It sits in the shadow of love.
It dwells within the Unattainable,
The Infinite, and the Eternal;
And no one marks
When it comes and goes.
Kabir says, “O brother Sadhu!
Deep is the mystery.
Let wise men seek to know
where rests that bird.”

NOTE: This is the translation by Rabindranath Tagore from the 1915 text, One Hundred Poems of Kabir. This is poem #30 (XXX) of that volume.

Black Crow [Haiku]

a black crow, 
oily & otherworldly,
alights on a rock.

Yellow Glade [Haiku]

i follow the light
out of the woods and into
a yellow glade.