Beauty

. What the Caterpillar Calls the End ---for those who are becoming The light grew dim, the air grew still, The green world closed, the leaf went chill. “I am undone,” the small voice cried, Wrapped in a thread the dusk supplied. No sky, no sun, no place to flee;...

. Sonnet XIII On days you do not need my sound embrace, When tenderness and warmth envelop you And Fortune shines upon your amber face And suffering and sorrow are but few, I wonder what your mind then does with me? From the shore the grey tide pulls away; Of...

. Young Catherine’s Vision ---on St. Catherine of Siena Invested with the Dominican Habit by Giovanni di Paola A maiden kneels on gray da Torre stone. Save for a crucifix, the room is bare. Her thighs seem formed of otherworldly bone; her anorexic body drifts on air. As if in...

. Sally  November rains brought to our basement door From the woods some pleading, needy eyes Staring from a fur mass, soaking wet. Our catless home (about to be no more) Welcomed her and tended to her cries. By Providence we had ourselves a pet. I don’t recall why Sally...

. Bonanza The March of rains has staked its claim, its boast _To brag upon these thousand hills, and opened the sluice of the motherlode to mantle the slopes in yellow and gold. _From Tehachapi to the poppied coast, __meadowlark-loud with whistles and trills, _Spring’s linen is laid along every...

. Going Home to Campania I come back to my cool and quiet road, Testudo-shielded by umbrella pines, Where pavement cracked and garbage overflowed To fade beyond in bright converging lines. I come back as a stranger, long since grown, Back to a land I knew when I was small,...

. The Spring Has Come The mating call of the black-capped chickadee (a North American songbird) sounds like "Hey, Sweetie!" "Hey, Sweetie!"—this is what you say.Small chickadee, it is your wayto signal interest in your mate.You sing and chase—and often wait—until she deigns to make your day. A furtive "cheep,"...

. Ghost Town With phantoms, I have lived for far too long. Both day and night, I’ve sighed, without a song. In vacant shells, I’ve tried to make my home In this ghost town of memories where I roam. They crowd like tombs around me every day--- These husks of...

. The Sky _I'm watching the storm_From the sea coming in,Windy and rowdy and gray._The raindrops begin_And the gale makes a spin.Pelicans swoop o'er the bay. _A downpour at last_With some lightning and flash,Thrashing the coast and the cay._As thunderclouds boom_And the sky threatens doom,Nature makes good at its play....

. Riverside Breeze ___How beautiful you look __Browsing the flowers one by one _While lying down along the babbling brook; ___And there, beneath the sun, __Whose melting kisses mark your skin, _The faintest of the zephyrs overrun ___The linen, wearing thin, __Of your translucent floral dress, _And as you fall...

. Pollinator When swift spring breezes suddenly excitethe conifers out back, they really comealive in dips and bows and surges rightbefore my eyes. I watch to see if froma few of them, or even one, a cloudwill be released, all green and dense and fraughtwith life. It happens, and I...

. Back to the Greenwood The spring has come to England once again But I am far away and cannot see The blackthorn blossoms blowing in the wind, And blackbirds in the heavens, flying free. The sun, grown potent, burns the standing stones, Releasing things enthralled by winter’s hand, Igniting...

. Zips and Zooms The hummingbird both zips and zooms To search for nectar in the blooms Of flowers that unfold in spring. The hummingbird has peewee wings And yet she moves with lightning speed. Her eggs (like little jelly beans) Are laid into her nest of moss And twigs...

. How I Spent My Spring Vacation: Poetry and Photography by James A. Tweedie . It Begins 45 Days Surrounded by the circle of the sea I cruise Atlantic waters, eastward bound, As knot by knot each longitude degree Leads onward towards a world as yet unfound. To Portugal’s fair...

. Heritage I’ve never asked for anything The living soil does not provide. I don’t want cash; I don’t want bling; I only want to stand beside The footprints of departed fathers, Now looking down through time and space To see what son it is who bothers To understand his...

. An Ode to Silay Cathedral bells now toll, And horses march the streets, The crowd has filled the hall, We hear the priest now preach. A lady makes a curtsy To the Lord respectfully. The marble pillars stand, The bougainvillea blooms, The sky azure and grand, The silk dress...

. High Society The Cornelius mansion on Park Avenue, New York City, Sunday, August 22, 1886 A derby hat; a fresh, white boutonniereOn my lapel. You just can’t have a newBeau Brummel jacket without something brightTo make the pretty debutantes draw near---The girls who sigh that I’m a Wall Street...

. Linden She stands against the sunlit sky, _Her beauty plain to see. The birds sing sweet and pleasant songs _High in the linden tree. The weary travelers stop below _To rest their weary bones, And listen to the happy birds _Sing cheerful, rhythmic tones. They rest beneath her cooling...

. Anachronistic Chaucer When April showers, forecast on TV,delayed our pilgrimage to Canterbury,an eating house, clept Hooters, we espiedbeside a leafy glade where we could bideour time in revelry and intercourse.Unto a cycle rack each tied their horseand entered Hooters, where a comely wenchcried: “Welcome! Here’s a menu! Take a...

. On Shen Yun . I. The land of China. Deep in history That like a river flows with people and culture, Extending into misty mystery. But now this fascinating, gleaming treasure Is buried in the mud beneath the beast Of communism seeking to destroy The goodness and the beauty...

. Voyage Among the Ancients "Tread softly, for here you stand On miracle ground…" ---Lawrence Durrell, "On Ithaca Standing" ( 1937) The Juno anchors, docks. We disembark. Each landfall’s an Odyssean surprise. Uncanny myths have left their canny mark. These islands are ruin-studded, rocky, stark. To wander is to feel...

. Who Are You and Who Am I ---a villanelle Who are you and who am I That you fill my life with light And for me you chose to die. I have fallen from on high, I am foolish, you are wise, Who are you and who am I?...

. Emmaus We barely saw he’d joined us as we made Our way along the road, so sad, afraid, So utterly confused by what had come To pass, so unsure as to what was rumor And what was true. And we were near struck dumb To hear the fellow didn’t...

. In the Garden of the King In the garden of the King I sit beside a crystal spring. The Tree of Life shines up above Fed by God’s eternal love. The Rose of Sharon is in bloom Freely giving sweet perfume. Friends and loved ones everywhere. The King is...

. Holy Saturday "Call the Sabbath a delight." —Isaiah 58:13 His weary, soulless body needed rest, Not only pierced and physically exhausted, But racked with mental pain, the scourging test Of misbelieving judgment that accosted The Word, yet found its wandering ways the best. Disciples treating Truth as an impostor...

. Crucified  She pondered horrors of the modern age. He thumbed through piles of dusty history tomes. She craved the timeless wisdom of a sage. He chewed on clues and mused like Sherlock Holmes. He scrutinized the motives in Ukraine. She grappled with the rabble on the jab. She mapped...

. Good Friday Rain I wake and hear the rain cascade. Its cleansing drops roll down my pane; They soak the garden, bathe the glade, Refresh the grass, and swell the grain. Stretched out in bed, from stress aloof, I lie in peace, content to hear The pleasing patter on...

. Magnolia The south wind’s newfound breath, The spring sun’s waxing ray, Draw from your outward death An opulent array. Before one fleck of green Has clothed your naked frame, The life that coursed unseen Bursts from your bones, aflame: Lush orbs of rose and cream Unfurl like lotus blooms,...

. The Tale of the Moon’s Reign ---an elegy Above the skies where reigns the moon _So bright in hours of gloom Lived those whose hearts no longer feel _Nor suffer and yearn to heal. We mortals hailed this sacred realm, _Where bliss must overwhelm. Their princess once found herself...

. Dirty Dishes The dust is often out of handAnd should I write my name uponThe coffee table and night standIt will be seen when morning dawns. But dishes, oh the dishes mustBe kept up or the sink will beFoul with spoons, forks, plates and cupsAll left to soak too...

. The Four Seasons . Spring I Amidst the cloudless sky and crimson dawn Comes bursting forth the bluebird’s orange breast, Whose shadow dances o’er the dewy lawn On having found last February’s nest; There he releases from his swollen chest A song to which the jay, the wren, the...

. A Ceiling Fan's Life (Is Like a Man's) On wintry days, it rarely spins Except when mopped floors need to dry. Its mission, once December's in, Is just to idly hang on high And watch us squabble, cackle, cry In earthy dramas' peace and strife. This is the childhood...

. Spring’s Unfolding View ---after Dylan Thomas’ “The force that through the green fuse drives flower” The force that through the green fuse drives the flower drives me new,that blasts the roots of trees, likewise is my destroyer too;and I am dumb to tell the crooked rose this, as are...

. Spring Snow Tyrant Winter reaches Beyond its frozen tomb, Dares cast its icy mantle On bud and crocus-bloom. Long it reigned unchallenged In dark and cold and ice; Thwarted now, it hurls back Last volleys as it flies. Spent, it fails to muster Its once-destroying blast; Failing snows fall...

. Canyon I’m traveling on a road down which I’m cast, a road that I am fitted for, no doubt, since I can see in arid skies white buffaloes, and humpbacks breaching from basaltic dirt. And too I can imagine I’m a fossil, straining my scapulas to almost breaking to...

. Happy Like Winnie the Pooh If I could be happy like Winnie the Pooh, Just thinking of good things in all that I do. I’d just want some honey—a big honey pot— I’d pay all my money, give all that I’ve got. With love for my friends and with...

. The Restoration ---for SJB Words sometimes fail. How best explainThat life can seem eternal rain?That though friends care they cannot seeOr grasp this wilderness of pain? Is this in truth how life must be?This drowning in a silent sea?This rack and screw, this raw negationWhich threatens hope and sanity?...

. Burning the Pieta Thoughts After Viewing Public Cremations at the Pashupatinath Temple Complex in Kathmandu, Nepal ---for Alok With tears wash fallen feet which once had stood To face a fated life with wonder and desire. Inhale the smoke and ash of flesh and wood; Breathe in the acrid...

. Bohème Opera in a bare and frigid room As winter winds were sweeping, like a broom, Raised an enthusiasm, understood As contrast to the landscape. Every plume Of horizontal snow blew toward the wood, Lifting fine sparkling sprays across each flume. Rodolfo, Mimi still awaited doom, Different for each....

. How Many Homes? ---January 2025 Los Angeles wildfires Twelve thousand lost, from stricken memories more Schools, churches, meeting places, shops and homes Of residents and others moved away, Bereaved of yesterday disastrously. The concrete evidence that life was lived In cool or agonizing passageways Lies toxic waste in space...