I was born upon thy bank, river,
My blood flows in thy stream,
And thou meanderest forever
At the bottom of my dream.
“I was born upon thy bank, river” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]
2
Category Archives: Poetry
The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams [w/ Audio]
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
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With Kung Fu Grip [Haiku]
the monkey stops
halfway up a cable climb
to inspect its toes.
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Limburger Limerick
There once was a purveyor of fine cheese
who liked 'em runny and stinky as you please.
Limburger and Camembert
hung pungent in the air.
He built a drive-thru, snarky patrons, to appease.
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River Snow by Liu Zongyuan [w/ Audio]
From one thousand mountains, birds have vanished.
Over ten-thousand paths, not one footprint.
A lone boat, an old man in coarse cloak and hat:
Just he, fishing in the cold, river snow.
Original Chinese:
千山鳥飛絕
萬徑人蹤滅
孤舟蓑笠翁
獨釣寒江雪
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Buddha Echo [Haiku]
Night Market [Free Verse]
Rains have come & gone.
Neon red shape-shifts
across the puddles,
and sparkles on glistening
roadways.
People converge
on those rain slick streets,
expecting to be fed.
Vendors work crinkling tarps,
trying to remove them without
sloshing standing water --
working with controlled haste.
Fires are lit and dialed in.
Soon plumes of aroma
from street food delicacies
will stretch down the street:
Silently calling & bewitching.
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Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas [w/ Audio]
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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Watercourse Weave [Haiku]
the river weaves -- just a gentle meander; a floating leaf roams.
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Fugu Death [Free Verse]
What a moment!
When you realize
that your lips had been more numb
than from Szechwan peppercorns,
and that numbness
has slid into paralysis.
You are dying:
death by Fugu --
poison blowfish.
Your heart will stop.
You will keel over,
falling from your stool
at the sushi counter.
A booth-dweller,
seeing you bounce off
an adjacent patron,
wonders why you don't
bring your arms up to catch yourself,
but - of course - they're dangling
uselessly,
and so you land face first.
The booth-dweller cringes.
There's nothing to be done for you.
You had the nerve
to try the Fugu!
But, while Fugu life is exhilarating;
Fugu death is inglorious.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 