“Sad” [Poetry Style #19 (悲慨)] by Sikong Tu [w/ Audio]

Strong winds ripple water;
Forest trees are laid low...
A bitter urge to die --
One can't come; one can't go.
Ten decades flow, stream-like;
Riches are cold, gray ash.
Life 's a death procession --
Unless you're adept and brash,
And can take up the sword
To hasten the anguish...
No rustling dry leaves, or
Leaky roof as you languish.

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 nineteenth of the twenty-four poems. This poem’s Chinese title is 悲慨, and it has been translated as: “Despondent,” and “Sorrowful.”

Fish Time [Common Meter]

Fish mill about the koi pond --
No hooks or fishnets;
Just falling leaves to break up
Hours into minutes.

Stone Damo [Lyric Poem]

The stone Bodhidharma,
Meant as more than likeness.
It tries to copy Damo's
Stillness & uprightness.

The Labor of Shyness [Common Meter]

Turtles sun on pier foundations
at the very edge.
So that upon the merest glance
They can slip the ledge,
And sink down into the pond's depths
To hide amid the murk.
Those who aren't shy can never know
Just how hard is its work.

Blue Sky Perspective [Lyric Poem]

What ancient tower sits
Under the patch of blue...
Exposed by tearing clouds
To give a boundless view.

Well, however ancient
And however stately,
I view it with less awe,
Or even quite sedately.

For it's a babe below
The ever-spreading sky;
Its edges - broad and tall -
Exaggerate -- They lie!

“I have never seen ‘Volcanoes’ –” (175) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]

I have never seen "Volcanoes" --
But, when Travellers tell
How those old -- phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still --

Bear within -- appalling Ordnance,
Fire, and smoke, and gun,
Taking Villages for breakfast,
And appalling Men --

If the stillness is Volcanic
In the human face
When upon a pain Titanic
Features keep their place --

If at length the smouldering anguish
Wil not overcome ---
And the palpitating Vineyard
In the dust, be thrown?

If some loving Antiquary,
On Resumption Morn,
Will not cry with joy "Pompeii"!
To the Hills return!

“Jade Gate Pass” by Wang Wei [w/ Audio]

Dawn rain has washed the city of its dust;
The refreshed hotel willows tremble in a gust.
My friendly advice, you dry up another glass,
You have no acquaintance beyond The Jade Gate Pass.

“Men Say They Know Many Things” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, --
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Foggy Stream [Lyric]

A thick cloud nestled into the
valley down below,
I wonder if the forager
in that streambed knows
that it's sunny above.

“Afternoon on a Hill” by Edna St. Vincent Millay [w/ Audio]

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!