Kathmandu backstreet: at alley's end, grins Joker -- global chaos face.
Saint Chaos [Senryū]
Reply
Category Archives: poem
Be Drunken by Charles Baudelaire [w/ Audio]
Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually.
Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken.
And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, or whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time, be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.”
NOTE: This is the Arthur Symons translation from the 1913 Elkin Mathews edition of Baudelaire’s Poems in Prose. Available via Project Gutenberg at: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/50489/pg50489-images.html#XI
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Water Swap [Haiku]
the falls are thin. the rains are hard. soon, fortunes will reverse.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Rain Song Tempo [Common Meter]
I hear the rains accelerate From the lightest sprinkle. Soon the streets are aflood; mere sound Makes my fingers wrinkle. The rain continues to ratchet Up: faster & faster. 'Til it's maxed out at a speed that Spells certain disaster. How can it keep up this dire pace? What sponge this cloud must be To hold on high, up in the sky, The contents of a Sea. But, in time, the downshift begins Towards just drips & drops. No matter how boisterous the band, The song, it always stops.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
The Daffodils by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Green Fairy [Free Verse]
Bohemians gathered around the absinthe bottles, the light hitting the bottles shone a radioactive shade of green. That green light threw blotches against walls & floors & people & anything else there was to illuminate. The more they drank, the less green the mottling -- not because the empty glass was clear, & didn't refract, or spray green, but because the splotches turned every color -- every color there is -- and the colors danced around the increasingly amorphous surfaces. Until, at last, everyone was asleep, and visions of Green Fairies danced in their dreams.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Autumn Rust [Haiku]
the year shows its age, a coating of rust flushes the hilltops.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
Old thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Crow Cabal [Haiku]
three crows circled up.
their conversational look
makes me nervous.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
furu ike ya [Old Pond] by Matsuo Bashō
old pond, a frog jumps: "plop-splash!"
Original: 古池や蛙飛びこむ水の音; Romanized: furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto
Tiger Riding for Beginners 