understory thrives:
light plants & shadow plants
each finds its place.
Understory [Haiku]
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Category Archives: Poetry
Watcher [Haiku]
“Do Not Weep, Maiden, For War Is Kind” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom—
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift, blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
This poem opens War Is Kind and Other Lines (1899.)
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shamless plug: THE PENGUIN BOOK OF POEMS ON THE INDIAN CITY
I have a piece in this new collection, out today (May 30, 2025) in the Indian market and later in the year for international markets.
GoodReads Page Amazon.in Page
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After Autumn Rain [Haiku]
pavement glistens;
yellow leaves sodden:
nothing moves... but drips.
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“Smoke” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]
Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird,
Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight,
Lark without song, and messenger of dawn,
Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form
Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By night star-veiling, and by day
Darkening the light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou my incense upward from this hearth,
And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
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Something Moves [Haiku]
something moves
through the tall grass --
mystery rump & ears.
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shamless plug: THE PENGUIN BOOK OF POEMS ON THE INDIAN CITY
I have a piece in this new collection, out tomorrow (May 30, 2025) in the Indian market and later in the year for international markets.
GoodReads Page Amazon.in PageShare on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
“The Snow Man” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
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Clouds Out [Haiku]
rhododendrons aren't blooming,
but clouds fled & mountains are out!
Tiger Riding for Beginners 