The sky is gray.
The lake is gray.
The city beyond is gray.
Once so big,
The city is now small,
And I fear fog
Might erase it.
Gray [Free Verse]
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Tag Archives: Free Verse
Lantern [Free Verse]
The lightbulb inside
A temple lantern
Shines like the sun:
Backdrop to painted
Branch & blossom...
But the fact that it's lit
Means that it must be
The moon.
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Wee Hours [Free Verse]
In the wee hours,
The city becomes a blur
Of color and motion,
But the moon
Is the moon
Is the moon.
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Hills of Tranquility [Free Verse]
Stony hills
Blanketed in green;
Softened -
Yet still hard.
Silent -
Yet riotous
As wind buffets
My face when I
Speed past.
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“Upon the Road of My Life” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]
Upon the road of my life,
Passed me many fair creatures,
Clothed all in white, and radiant.
To one, finally, I made speech:
“Who art thou?”
But she, like the others,
Kept cowled her face,
And answered in haste, anxiously,
“I am good deed, forsooth;
You have often seen me.”
“Not uncowled,” I made reply.
And with rash and strong hand,
Though she resisted,
I drew away the veil
And gazed at the features of vanity.
She, shamefaced, went on;
And after I had mused a time,
I said of myself,
“Fool!”
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“A Decade” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant.
I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour,
But I am completely nourished.
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“Indian River” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]
The trade-wind jingles the rings in the nets around the racks
by the docks on Indian River.
It is the same jingle of the water among the roots under the
banks of the palmettoes,
It is the same jingle of the red-bird breasting the orange-trees
out of the cedars
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor
on the nunnery beaches.
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“Aliens” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
The chatter of little people
Breaks on my purpose
Like the water-drops which slowly wear the rocks to powder.
And while I laugh
My spirit crumbles at their teasing touch.
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City Market [Free Verse]
City market sprawls
Under covered roofs --
Blocks and blocks
With no outside, and yet
Not really inside either.
Miles of food:
Raw, cooked, and
-- Sometimes -- living,
Squirming in buckets
Or trying to flip to freedom.
In the witching hour,
With blue tarps up
And food stowed
And only streetlamps lit,
A drunk stumbles through,
Crushing an overripe
Peach underfoot.
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“‘Truth,’ said a traveller” [Poem XXVIII] by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]
“Truth,” said a traveller,
“Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
“Often have I been to it,
“Even to its highest tower,
“From whence the world looks black.”
“Truth,” said a traveller,
“Is a breath, a wind,
“A shadow, a phantom;
“Long have I pursued it,
“But never have I touched
“The hem of its garment.”
And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.
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