Beauty

. Flying Home Alas, I missed My flight back Home, After all these years In life I've roamed. I had then raced To make my flight, I thought I had My timing right. But there before My startled eyes The clouds...

. You’re In Control In all, you’re in control; your imperious charms Have inspired a near-insatiable itch in my arms To reach and grasp and hold, in hopes to soothe, To bring our fire and ice together to...

. Tonight I Sail the Dreamy Sea Tonight I sail the dreamy sea Where we can find tranquility. The sails are set. The sea remote. Just you and I within the boat. I’ll sail to you and pick you up; Then we can...

. I’m Here __Your smile, it hypnotizes. It rises with the Inca doves and sun. __Sleep done, your love surprises And spices dawn with lush and precious fun. __Your widened eyes are fashioned In passion that...

.   https://youtu.be/3XWcnISYGSE . Rondel for Saint Valentine's Day by Geoffrey Chaucer (c.1340–1400) | modernized in the original lyric form by Margaret Coats Now welcome, springtime, with your gentle...

. An Oldie's Valentine Love Poem We met when she was seventeen, The fairest maid I’d ever seen. With eyes of blue and flaxen hair, My mouth agape, I had to stare, And wonder, if a girl like she, Would ever...

. To a Girl Named Olivia What shall I say to you of untold love In this more than empty space that lies between Our two selves wound in tongue-tied reticence? I have touched your hand in images and dreams, As...

. Road Trip I ride the countryside for you my friend. The white and yellow lines can’t separate The dots I will connect at this trip’s end. With spinning force that pushes on the bend Until the highway...

. No Going Back We feel our lives are slowly closing round Us when the nights grow longer than the days, When winter brings us sadness and malaise, And all around us is a chill profound. Across the moss the...

. The Agony and The Ecstasy I beg among the lonely hours__oblivious to time and spaceand pace beneath the Sistine towers__where pigments paint my puzzled face.Why call me to divine commission,as if I am the...

. A Winter Snow a rhupunt The white snow falls in swirling walls that so enthralls as in my youth. The wind is slight; flakes from great height a blissful sight--- whole life to sleuth. Each crystal flake a...

. Ode to Joy My final symphony---my best by far!--- Which crowns a challenged life of brilliant works. Vienna’s finest came! Some from afar: Nobility, musicians, Prussians, Turks. A triumph! Yet it made my...

. Great Lakes Weather Gaffe Beyond the equinox by thirty days, With trees and shrubs bedecked in glorious bloom, Onto the scene the weirdest weather strays And plunges all back into winter’s gloom. Snow...

. Those Who Go Down to the Sea in Ships a poetic paraphrase of Psalm 107:23-30 The men who go down to the sea in their ships, Who sail on the water and pursue their trade, The sound of the sea echoes back from...

. Missed Call O Muse, would you call back another time? My little boy, armed with a sharpened stick, winged with a blanket, sure that he can fly, is leaping off the countertop to try things unattempted yet in...

. Plum Blossom Blessings The pine, bamboo, and plum are winter’s friends, Yet plum trees bloom to overcome the chill And herald spring. Resilient health extends Throughout my struggling mind and body...

. The 10 Best Love Poems of 2021 What makes a great love poem? Love is such an emotionally charged topic that the answers to that question are going to vary tremendously depending on who you ask. But all the...

. Tel Shikmona Mosaics here surprise: you wouldn’t know, tramping on thistles, dry late-summer stubble and tripping over rubble, stumbling, slow, that this rough trail leads to the long-ago till...

. My Mother’s Eyes We took a ride into the countryside to search for bluebells but we first saw phlox. Delighted by the sight my mother cried, “Look at the flowers flutter on the rocks! Look at the...

. Sir Percival A quiet desperation lives within my soul: to find the Holy Cup, the Grail; to touch something beyond this mortal pen, and taste my God, His blood, from Cross’s nail. I am not worthy, this I...

. Solitude by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827) | from German by Joseph Greene As when a cloud is darkened And drifts through sunlit sky, While through the many treetops An icy breeze does fly: As such I make my...

. Bach in Heidelberg for Marjorie Bach’s chorus didn’t leave us much to say After the Easter Monday concert in The Holy Spirit Church. Taking our way Over the Old Bridge seemed like we’d just...

. You Are Too Far from Me Send me your love for I’ve nothing to write,And my words are vacant or ugly---I slept through the morning, I raved out the night,And you are too far from me. I feel the entropy...

. The Two Corteges by Joséphin Soulary (1815-1891) | translated from French by Hadyn Adams Within a church two groups of people met: An infant’s funeral cortege, the first: A woman followed, her heart fit...

. Toasting Burns    His words ring out from windswept glens. __They lilt from lapping lochs. I see love through his red-rose lens; __I hear the midnight clocks In castle nooks chime Auld Lang Syne __As...

. Dystopia Reality is never what it seems To be.  It hides itself in shrouds of mist, In bulging envelopes of gilded dreams, In requisite pronations of the wrist That guides the palsied hand that holds the...

. Mourning the Dead by Li Qingzhao, Southern Song (1084-1155) | from Chinese by Talbot Hook Above in the heavens the star-river flows; Down on the earth the curtains hang low. As the air grows chill, and my...

. The High Cost of Low Prices Poetry is what I treasure. Books of poems give me pleasure, but my grief’s been hard to measure, since I did some shopping. “50 Famous Poems”---nifty! Now on sale for just...

. The Joys of Spring a pantoum It’s here—sweet long-awaited spring. New blooms smell lovely; skies are blue. The trilling birds are on the wing. Earth has awakened; life is new. New blooms smell lovely;...

. Disambiguation As in the dawn the nature of the beams Of light invading chambers---how they glint, Conceal with shade, or paint with rosy tint--- Reveals the day, not as it is but seems, So, in the natal...

. To Tchaikovsky by A.N. Apukhtin (1840-1893) | Translated from Russian by Olga Dumer With my musician friend’s departure A minor key pervades my lines. Yet, like a fugue’s evolving texture, Old...

. The English Cantos: StairWell Canto 4 Leaving a broken relationship of the past behind in Canto 3, the poet enters a new world of education and what that means. Before entering a specific establishment, the...

. Rescuing Contemporary Poetry from Vers Libre The conservative & informal vs. the free Before addressing my thesis, let me explain my choice of the word conservative in identifying a category of poetry,...

. The Heroes of Beijing on the Jan. 21 movie premiere of Unsilenced, just days before the Beijing Winter Olympics As great as it may be to send those hockey Pucks on icy wisps of air into A net as sweet as...

. Apocalypse The fractured sky splits, flaming at the edge— The earth heaves upwards in explosive wrath. No eye can bear the clay-caked risen dead Sleepwalking through the streets in blackened shrouds. The...

. To Sleep, to Sleep by Friedrich Hebbel | translated from German by Sean Thompson To sleep, to sleep and only sleep And never wake and have no dreams! The bitter woes that made me weep but half-remembered...

. Self-Exile "Parue—nec inuideo—sine me, liber, ibis in urbem.” —Ovid While driving underneath I had to pray: the tunnel, God, had better not cave in— as if New York could make the earth obey. My...

. Black and Red Within a latent, pathless peak, A mountain’s womb begins to leak The flicker of a fervent hue, When primal mantles stir a brew. This billow turns into a cloud That sprinkles as a stony...

. Lockdown The day sprawls wider than a yawn, a mouth that sucks a ticking clock, a door that lets the wind blow in, but no one comes to lift their fist and knock. The rain outside is free to run and fall and...

. Sonnetized “Why poetry?” My chair leans in his chair And slides me a sabbatical-swelled smirk. The past nine months I’d shouldered all his share So he could spend his patriarchal perk In penning pap...