Moving at a glide --
No strain, no effort,
Rolling side to side,
No lord or escort.
Things are going SWIMMINGLY.
Swimmingly [Lyric Poem]
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Category Archives: Poetry
“Absolute” [Poetry Style #1] by Sikong Tu [w/ Audio]
With wear you will decay outside,
But inside resides the vital force.
Approach the Absolute through the Void:
One's strength will grow, and vim will course.
You can know the world and its Way,
Across space and time -- to the Source.
To desolation range hang dark clouds,
Air still as latitudes of the horse,
Move beyond all one knows by sight,
And gain the Center -- but not by force --
Hold onto this strength by hook or crook,
And flow the Endless by watercourse.
NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a crude translation of the first of the twenty-four poems. This poem’s Chinese title is 雄浑, and its translated titles include: “Energy – Absolute” [Giles] and “Vigorous.”
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Safe Distance [Haiku]
from the mountain,
one can see the city, but
not feel its chaos.
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Two Rivers Merge [Tanka]
two rivers merge:
the smaller, lighter branch
seems shut out, but
the bigger river moves
onward a lighter shade.
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Sunny Side [Haiku]
light on my face,
i look across the dark valley
to sun-fringed mountains.
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“Autumn” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
All day I have watched the purple vine leaves
Fall into the water.
And now in the moonlight they still fall,
But each leaf is fringed with silver.
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Spine [Lyric Poem]
The spine is not a line.
It likes to twist and twine.
Bend it, stretch it, coil it;
Just don't bake, fry, or boil it.
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At Harbor [Lyric Poem]
A stiff line of ships
Stands in the harbor:
Neither rise nor dip -
Just anchored torpor.
Is a storm coming?
Will ships be unbound?
Will waves be drumming,
Or lost be all sound?
If a ship snaps loose,
Will it reach the sea
To become a recluse,
A ghost ship riding free?
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Bumping Gunwales [Haiku]
“Scorn not the Sonnet” by William Wordsworth [w/ Audio]
Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,
Mindless of its just honours; with this key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart; the melody
Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;
A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;
With it Camöens soothed an exile's grief;
The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf
Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned
His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp,
It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land
To struggle through dark ways, and, when a damp
Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand
The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains -- alas, too few!
Tiger Riding for Beginners 