Beauty

. On Me I am a simple Eastern bard __Who moseys by the heather That grows in sweeping fields and loves __To dance in springy weather. I glamourize my hometown great, __Pen tales of grief and love, And avidly behold the train __Of downy clouds above. My town is green...

. Lachrimosa As winter pushes fall aside And birds complete their southward flight I sit and watch the water glide Beneath the old stone bridge at night. The crescent moon, with smile askew, Reflects her light upon the stream, And births a thousand stars anew Which leap and dance as...

. The Name We Leave When we first breathe and start to peer, What we will be is still unclear. A book of pages yet unturned Is what we are when we appear. Whether assigned, purloined, or earned, And when a standing time has burned, The name revealed on every...

. Ipse Dixit I say Cogito ergo sum To the animal here in the room. So how do I know I exist? Well, here’s a provisional list: I doubt, and I fear, and I bleed; I attend to a friend who’s in need. The philosophers think they’re so smart, But...

. In the Woods by Eduard Mörike (1804-1875) translated from German by Alan Steinle While lying on the grass beneath the leaves, I listen to a cuckoo's mournful song. His melody flows gently out along the valley, and I clearly hear him grieve. The worst vexation that I can conceive:...

. Poem 101 by Catullus (circa 84-54 BC) translated by Bruce Phenix Conveyed through many countries, over many seas, to these poor funerary offerings I come to give you, brother, that last present for the dead and speak, to no avail, to ashes which are dumb. Poor brother, so unfairly...

. Last Visit to the Beach a sestina The beach, untouched by Time throughout the years As millions of waves washed from the sea, As Time transformed me, now no more a boy, Where I would walk each season on that sand, Each decade by my side a different dog,...

. The Poet’s Good Pen Take up your good pen. Write only words true. Now open your heart--- Your worth will shine through. Among the spare lines A poet can't hide. Their soul thus defined--- In their words, they reside. No room for clutter; Words chosen with care. The truth...

. Contagious Joy a villanelle You always find a way to make me smile. Like sunlight tracing rainbows in the rain, Contagious joy is never out of style; The day we wed, when you walked down the aisle, You thought it funny when you snagged your train. You always find...

. Vintage Love Love is as a grape when it begins, Unblemished by the bruises and the sins That will come in time. For now it is Refreshing sweetness and delightfulness. Bewilderment accompanies the crush That violates that virgin crimson blush. Forgiving, leaning in, and letting go Allow for love...

. When? I’ll love you when the bee has lost its buzz, When wolf and bear have quit their howl and growl, When lambs don’t sport a snow-spun fleece of fuzz And hoots don’t float from barns that house an owl. I’ll love you when the spin of earth is stilled, When moons...

. I Am the Stone I am the stone The humble stone the barefoot shepherd boy Selected from the muddy river bed; The stone which fit inside the sling he made As soon as he was given leave by Saul To fight for Israel in her time of need. I...

. The Southern Cross The caravels escaped at last The roiling tides of Bojador And entered tropic seas far past What any chart described before--- __An unknown world to cross. Strange southern seas! Unending miles Of blue, both sea and sky, stretched bare. The bights and capes, the shoals and...

. . Nocturnal Litany I “From all malevolence the night employs….” ---James Agee, “Epithalamium” . From all malevolence the night employs To haunt our ragged hearts and weary brains With bitterness that pulses through the veins Of memory with its unrelenting noise; From nightmare images that hover over us Portending...

. How Septuagenarian’s Cope Past seventy. Age does prevail. __The day is growing dim. I’ve managed through life’s calms and gales— I still can trapse through woodland trails __And workout at a gym. Past seventy. Age does assail. __Our grandkids prove time zooms! Their one-track minds never derail: Just tell...

. Bedtime Stories in triolets He’d curl her close and hold her tight and let the words dance in the air. The dragons soared and knights did fight, he’d curl her close and hold her tight. She’d gasp and laugh, her mind take flight, he’d breathe new worlds for his...

. A Temporary Exhibit A million drops of water will be sprayed Across my yard today. And each of them Will capture the refraction of each blade Of grass, each dandelion leaf and stem. Each image is reversed and upside-down, Of course, and everything that I can see That stands...

. Left Outside The shopping cart, precisely ordered now while searching for those perfect little lines of lights for decorations---anyhow, I'm sure there must be something that combines with lights around the centerpiece to show a little flair, if not a little art. I shift my stuff and somehow, yes...

. Sunshine Sun, shine on me—come and stay! Dry my tears, send gloom away. Warm my soul, chilled to the bone By the freezing wind that’s blown. With your reassuring light Put my griefs and fears to flight. Don’t be shy; no longer hide, Cloaked by rain clouds dark and...

. Gawain’s Prayer in the Wilderness …the wildrenesse of Wyrale; wonde ther bot lyte That auther God other gome with gode hert louied. (…the wilderness of Wirral; few wandered there Who loved with good heart either God or man.) —Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, 701-702 Here, where the Wirral...

. Had I held you in the fields of Hay beside The Wye and on an afternoon that cleared To brilliance, although the sun soon would Sink to an evening in which darkness neared, Nothing so near as never---we could not--- Distracted us from purposes of each Other. We said...

. In a Home based on Michael Bunker’s grandmother (b. 1909) as described in his book Surviving Off Off-Grid . I Old, blind, and helpless, Grandma’s all alone— Bed, radio, phone, and nothing stimulating, __Indifferent care-crew members— Unwanted, worn-out human unit, waiting To be no more than carvings on a...

. A Wing-stroked Spectacle Segmented sets of starlings sharply elevate towards candescent skies, suspend, then circulate in sync. Their wingspans whisper sunset symphonies while manifesting silhouetted symmetries. With poise and spurts of swiftness, they transform the air into an ever-changing scape; this canvas where each turn and swirl unfurls a...

. A Blanket of Snow from childhood memories of the blizzard of 1949 on a farm near Bonesteel, South Dakota. The world is all bound in a blanket of snow, The kerosene lamps keep the windows aglow. The fire from the hearth with the wood we laid in Protects from...

. Unshackling the Spirit I toss and turn at night. I wonder why I’m here. But then with dawn the skeptic’s free, Dismissing faith and scoffing at the sky. I’m certain---Oh so certain---all I see Is limited to mass and energy--- What I can see and hear and touch and...

. Learning to Laugh The pathos of a circus clown, with empty pockets inside out, now challenges a small boy’s frown. Bewildered by the mimicked pouts, the racoon eyes and painted tears, he wonders what this clod’s about who falls but never seems to fear the squirting flowers or flying...

. Another Day How time has wasted, over time, over time. __At least to me, that’s how it seems. Oh how I’ve chased it, back and forth, back and forth… __I catch it only in my dreams. The clock is ticking overtime, overtime. __I cannot seem to catch a break....

. The Blue Absorbent Towel . As he fillets my leg and makes a flap above my knee of skin to sew it shut, interns are watching closely how the cut is perfect artistry, a suture map, a hemisphere I'm sailing into all alone. That pungent sea of flesh and...

. Ambition We’re dipping our toes in the paddling pool __When we ought to be tackling the seas. There’s no point at all in thinking so small __With the water just up to our knees. We need to be braver, go deeper, work out __What to think, where to go,...

. Windjam Dry leaves abruptly fell that day— Whirled weathervane communiqué Proposing a quick stroll away Along a narrow inlaid path To venture past the aftermath Of an alfresco yellow bath. Emerging from the stonecut room Behind a waterfall’s stray spume, A tenor tone, “May I presume To lift the...

. What Time Is It? “What time is it?” he asks of me, __“It’s now eleven o’clock;” “What time is it?” he asks of me, __As I hear the tick and tock. “What time is it?” he asks of me, __“It’s now eleven o-two;” His eyes light up in childlike...

. Requiem The notes we cherish most Are gathered from the throats Of those who perished young. The song we sadly toast Was sown from wanton oats, Disowned and never sung. . . Role Models __A forager is digging ramps Up on a sunny hill in Tennessee, __Philatelists collecting stamps...

. A Star O silent sphere of silver-soft-spun light,Thou crystal pearl strung on an airy veilSuffusing bright celestial delightIn snowy glory o'er thy starry trail:The bridal necklace of the night inflameWith purer ray, whose brighter progenyUnveils her blushing face, unmarred by shame,With vestal grace’s immortality---Or so at first you seemed...

. Blessings Every now and then when I’m in prayer I feel Your famous joyfulness descend. It doesn’t descend, of course; it’s always there Waiting for us, just as it’s always been. It doesn’t happen often, just enough To keep me moving toward You. I had come To think I...

. On Cats and Love My cat does not explain himself. He knows his reasons. Why must I? He needs to bathe while on a shelf Or hunt some trash? I don’t care why. I do not need to understand. I love him since he’s loyal, kind, And brings me...

. To Find a Waterfall The wild forest is a spiritual place. Disbelief does not last there. Halfway through My span of life, my sunrise-to-set race, I found my trail among the trees anew. Goal for the Spring: to find a waterfall, To trace my pathway out to that grand view....

. Summer of ‘73  It’s sunset and the sidewalk still feels hot. My legs and feet are bare, they do not mind Mosquitos nearly eating me alive. The neighbor kids are starting to come out. We play a game of hide and seek; I hide Up in a tree and...

. Father after "So Far, So Near," by Christopher Pearse Cranch (1813-1892). Father, maker of all spirit, infinite, You can ensphere it. Still, You enter all that's living: raising, guiding, and forgiving. Of all worlds, You are the spawner. You alone deserve our honor. All things good You don't deny...

. Again The bench is near where children play And where she sits to dream and muse. She knows her life will shortly fade— A doleful thought she can't refuse. Her wrinkled skin declares her age, And her eyes, alive years ago When young and lustrous in their shine, Now...

. The Pitcher Plant The insect dances on a pitcher plant drinking deep the fabled honey nectar. The rim affords a place to lean and slant— heedless treads the doomed fructose collector. Advancing where the juice is still more sweet, excess brings him to his tragic blunder: ignoring slippage neath...