at water’s edge,
snakes wrestle: writhing, twining,
but slipping the pin.
Roughhousing Snakes [Haiku]
1
Category Archives: poem
“Death, Be Not Proud” by John Donne [w/ Audio]
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
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Autumn Mind [Haiku]
paper lanterns
in the Daoist temple
turn my mind to Fall.
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Spring Dream [Haiku]
one pink-laden tree
stands amid a wall
of spring greenery.
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“Written While Moored on the Qinhuai River” by Du Mu [w/ Audio]
Mist touches cold water and moon embraces the sand.
I’m moored for the night near a tavern on the Qinhuai.
The singing girl doesn’t know the empire is in bitter ruin.
Across the river I hear her singing “Blossom of the Inner Court.”
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.
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Buds & Blooms [Haiku]
Heron Perch [Haiku]
from still water
juts deadwood on which herons
perch with their shadows.
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Four Seasonal Haiku of Ryōkan [w/ Audio]
Spring
rainy days
make the monk Ryōkan
feel sad.
Summer
the moon in my window
is all the thief left behind.
Autumn
an autumn wind
chills the dangling persimmons,
and my testicles.
Winter
little birds have
gathered in the brushwood
on a snowy morn.
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Bristling [Haiku]
leaves have dropped;
reflected sun viewed twixt
bristled seedpod clusters.
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Hanshan 131 [w/ Audio]
During thirty years since my birth
I've hiked thousands of miles,
seen green grass converging with a river
and red dust rising at the frontiers,
searched in vain for immortals and elixirs,
studying books and histories.
Today I've returned to Cold Mountain.
I lie back in a stream, washing out my ears.
Translation: Barnstone, Tony and Ping, Chou. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry: From Ancient to Contemporary. New York: Anchor Books.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 