to sit beside a river
is to be Still
amid a moving world
a sweet break
from being that which moves
through the world
POEM: Sitting Beside a River
2
Tag Archives: poem
Three River Haiku
I
from a tree’s shade,
i admire bright, blue skies —
sunlight shimmers
II
washer-woman,
sitting at the river’s edge,
envying flow
III
foggy river
its far bank hazy,
a duck quacks
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POEM: Plummeting Arrow [Triolet]
That arrow can’t be meant for me
though it plummets toward my chest.
This is no time to turn and flee —
that arrow can’t be meant for me.
If I ran now, who would I be —
one of the crowd, just like the rest.
That arrow can’t be meant for me
though it plummets toward my chest.
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POEM: Lulled into the End Times
The criers are calling, “The End is nigh!”
as boats are languidly rolling offshore.
Their sway, it sings a kind of lullaby,
and by rocket glare, I begin to snore.
No one has slept through a world war before,
and though I might well die before waking,
I will be spared the futile bellyaching.
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Three Ugly Kyōka
I
a gnarled branch
twists its sinewy limb
from a crag;
its grotesque beauty
reminds me of me
II
reflections
on the rice paddies
show the sky
in an angry gray,
but dampen its scowl
III
glacier melt
leaves a great scar
gouged in the earth;
the gray and brown wound
looks like man’s doing
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Limerick of Slovakia
There was an odd boy of Slovakia
who often suffered from hypoxia.
He liked to hold raves,
but lived in the caves,
and so sucked the smokiest air in Slovakia
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POEM: Unsuspecting: or, Lucretia’s Plight
He sits outside and tells the tale,
but never lets her know
the story features future her,
and hopes for a hero.
She’ll play the lover and the mother
made wise too late to fly —
a mark with many a booster
but not one true ally.
She’s too naïve, too laidback, and
under-classed to wrestle —
a jungle lamb who, thus, becomes
the bled and the vessel.
They’ll quibble over right and wrong
as she lays in the way,
and will conclude evil was done
too late in her last day.
And sitting on an upturned crate
she would never suspect
that a listener would become
this yarn’s shattered object.
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POEM: Song on the Wind
hope is a song on the wind
that never makes an echo
it climbs to where the air is thin
that’s where it lets the song go
it rains to earth in tonks and tinks
no melody you’d recognize
no note longer than a blink
a song lost in the skies
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POEM: Carved Columns [Bergerette]
Image
the columns stand crooked but strong,
hewn with scenes – right & wrong –
by gods and monsters long forgotten —
some loving & some rotten —
each dancing into its swan song
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Floral Haiku
I
bougainvillea
wall of many colors
flames in sunlight
II
carpenter bee
submerges in a flower,
falling to earth
III
frangipani
blossom sits on sidewalk
courting glances
