Category Archives: poem

“Concord Hymn” by Ralph Waldo Emerson [w/ Audio]

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By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
   Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
 Here once the embattled farmers stood
   And fired the shot heard round the world.
 
The foe long since in silence slept;
   Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
 And Time the ruined bridge has swept
   Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
   We set today a votive stone;
 That memory may their deed redeem,
   When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
 
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
   To die, and leave their children free,
 Bid Time and Nature gently spare
   The shaft we raise to them and thee.

Sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument, July 4, 1837

Malacca Limerick

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There once was a pirate of Malacca,
 Who liked ramen and chow mein and hakka.
 He'd eat any noodles
 by the oodles and oodles, 
 But, with no fiber, he couldn't make caca!

Mind Fog [Free Verse]

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The fog envelopes me.
   I draw vivid pictures 
      on its white surface.

I don't know how I do it,
    But I know why.

It's a craving:
   To fill emptiness,
   To disallow silence.

The fog's texture is
   Subtle, but existent. 

Should I not sketch my story
   On that white surface,
   But rather give it my attention
      then I might see that texture,
      and then see it clearly,
      and - eventually - feel it
          as I glide my hand 
          though space...
   Blind and at ease.

Dusky Winter Scene [Haiku]

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church at dusk
 looks shuttered and vacant, then
  door creak, candle flame

“The Little Boy Found” by William Blake [w/ Audio]

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The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
 Led by the wand'ring light,
 Began to cry; but God, ever nigh,
 Appear'd like his father in white.

He kissed the child & by the hand led
 And to his mother brought,
 Who in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale,
 Her little boy weeping sought.

Tough Pink Blooms [Haiku]

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flower cluster hangs
 through a cold December --
  the last leaf lone gone.

“What Was Her Blondness Like” by Juhász Gyula [w/ Audio]

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What was her blondness like? I can't recall,
 But I do know the blondness of the fields,
 When the wheat fields' grain ripen in the Fall,
 And in this blondness her presence I feel.

What were her blue eyes like, I can't recall,
 But I do know the blueness of the sky,
 September morn, or later in the Fall,
 And then again I do feel her nearby.

What was her silky voice like? Can't remember,
 But in springtime, when fields begin to sigh,
 I feel that Anna's voice is calling, tender,
 From a past Spring that's as far as the sky.

Translation by Frank Veszely in: Hungarian Poetry: One Thousand Years. 2023. Manitoba, CA: Friesen Press.

Modest Sun [Haiku]

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rising sun looms
 at first sight; but shrinks
  on second glance.

“Water” by Ralph Waldo Emerson [w/ Audio]

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The water understands
 Civilization well;
 It wets my foot, but prettily,
 It chills my life, but wittily,
 It is not disconcerted,
 It is not broken-hearted:
 Well used, it decketh joy,
 Adorneth, doubleth joy:
 Ill used, it will destroy,
 In perfect time and measure
 With a face of golden pleasure
 Elegantly destroy.

Clipper [Haiku]

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jungle butterfly
 finds a spotlight
  to warm its back.