“Gitanjali 35” by Rabindranath Tagore [w/ Audio]

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heave of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

NOTE: This poem is often entitled “Let My Country Awake,” particularly when it is anthologized independently of the larger Gitanjali poem.

Holdout [Tanka]

a tree’s last blossom
seems to wait til no one
is looking to drop.
what a thing it must be
to see a holdout yield.

“Seeking a Hermit-Sage in Vain” by Jia Dao [w/ Audio]

I question a local boy under a pine.
He says, "Teacher is gathering herbs
right here on the mountain...
But who can say where?
The mountain is thick with clouds."

Faint Day Moon [Haiku]

a daytime half moon,
feeble compared to at night,
yet I stop to look.

Diabolical [Free Verse]

I don’t mind one crow,
on a rail or curb,
by its lonesome.

Nor am I troubled by
a large number of the birds.
(The group designation “murder,”
notwithstanding.)

But where two or three
are gathered, facing
each other…

That’s when I get the
heebie-jeebies.

Four Seasonal Haiku of Sōgi [w/ Audio]

SPRING

Despite the storm,
Spring's herald makes it through:
Scent of plum blossom.

SUMMER

Abundant fireflies
This year, but this morning
None are to be seen.

AUTUMN

Autumn sea:
A boat moves, leaf-like,
In the floating world.

WINTER

Winter rains
Cross the mountains
On rising clouds.

Egret Eye [Haiku]

an egret peers
into the lake, past
surface reflections?

“Suicide in the Trenches” by Siegfried Sassoon [w/ Audio]

Photo by Ernest Brooks (Imperial War Museum)
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Psychedelia at First Light [Lyric Poem]

When early morning sunlight warms
The vibrant lakeside greenery,
All of those cave-like lakeside trails
turn psychedelic scenery.

The leaves become so translucent
Butterfly and bee silhouettes
Stretch out at distorted angles --
Beasts beyond being caught with nets.

Despite being sober and fresh
The mind reels or seeks to reset.

Blindspot [Free Verse]

A culture is a vehicle
we use to move
through
this world.

And like all vehicles -
be it truck or bus -
it
has blindspots.

Everyone in a given
vehicle has the same
blindspots...

That's why we travel.