the clouds retreat,
revealing the jagged spires
up the mountainside.
Toothy Mountain [Haiku]
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Category Archives: poem
Cobble Sparrow [Haiku]
“Lost in Fog” by Qin Guan [w/ Audio]
The tower has vanished in the fog;
The boat is hidden in moon-shadow;
The perfect peach field cannot be found.
I'm shut in by the cold rain of Spring.
I hear the cuckoo's call at sunset.
Apricot blossoms sent by my friends
In letters received through the post
Cause an assault by countless memories.
A lonely river rounds the mountain,
But why should it flow toward my lost world?
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Ride by Night [Kyōka]
a little bird,
on a bit of driftwood,
speeds downriver
in the dusky, fading light.
doesn’t it know it can fly?
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Countless Pieces of Hate [Free Verse]
Countless pieces of hate
Tumble through our days,
Clogging up our Flow --
Tiny bites of thought
Pit us against
Imagined adversaries...
But aren't all adversaries
Imagined adversaries?
Those who act badly against us
Are only adversaries
If we slide them into that
Mental basket.
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“Wild Nights – Wild Nights!” (269) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
Wild nights -- Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile -- the winds --
To a Heart in port --
Done with the Compass --
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden --
Ah -- the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee!
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Ducks Adrift [Haiku]
a pond in summer:
ducks look like wooden toys,
drifting leisurely.
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Winter Malaise [Lyric Poem]
One bitter winter afternoon --
Locked under skies so low and gray --
The city slowed in cold cocoon
As what verve remained slid away.
And then the clouds, they broke apart,
And frozen souls began to thaw.
But some needed not the sun's kickstart
To free themselves of winter's maw.
What was their secret? I wish I knew.
To be happy sans the skies of blue.
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Psychopomp Shanties [Lyric Poem]
Here comes some sing-song psychopomp,
Shepherding all those stone-cold souls.
He sings stirring songs all day long,
Dragging the Dead over dark shoals.
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Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare [w/ Audio]
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes there is more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
