a moth, wings tattered,
basks in the canopy-
breaching spotlight.
Tattered Moth [Haiku]
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Category Archives: poem
“The Splendour Falls” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson [w/ Audio]
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits in old story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying,
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World Writ Minimalist [Kyōka]
sunrise paints the haze
the color of campfire flames,
and nothing looks real,
but rather like a painting
by an artist, skilled & lazy.
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Pleasant Valley [Lyric Poem]
In the narrow valley
Traversed by a cool stream,
Life is but a pleasant,
And ever shady, dream.
Feet within the waters,
But mind up in the sky,
Nothing can upend one,
Nor kill what cannot die.
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“Treading on Grass” by He Zhu [w/ Audio]
On winding pool with willows dim,
At narrow strait the lovebirds swim.
Green duckweeds float,
Barring the lotus-picking boat.
Nor butterflies nor bees
Love fragrance from the withered trees.
When her red petals fall apart,
The lotus bloom 's bitter at heart.
The setting sun greets rising tide,
The floating clouds bring rain.
The swaying lotus seems to confide,
Her sorrow to the poet in vain.
Then she would not be wed to vernal breeze.
What could she do now autumn drives away wild geese?
Translation: Xu Yuanchong [translator]. 2021. Deep, Deep the Courtyard. [庭院深深.] Cite Publishing: Kuala Lumpur, p.226.
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Graveyard Trees [Haiku]
graveyard trees
turn crimson in the Fall, but
hold leaves stubbornly.
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“A Shropshire Lad XXXVI” by A. E. Housman [w/ Audio]
White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way.
The world is round, so travellers tell,
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,
The way will guide one back.
But ere the circle homeward hies,
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
NOTE: This poem is sometimes titled by its first line or an abbreviated form, thereof. So, it’s sometimes called: “White in the Moon the Long Road Lies.”
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Sandstone Still-Life [Haiku]
in sandstone canyons,
shrubs grow thick & green;
no signs of day life.
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Last Cluster [Haiku]
the last cluster
of frangipani flowers
tops a bare tree.
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Seasonless [Haiku]
spring green to the right;
tawny stalk stubble on the left
a seasonless dreamworld?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 