Poetry

. Equinox Blues Welcome to spring! The last snow may be past,_and bright blue frames the parting clouds.The sun rides longer in the sky, at last,_than lost to night’s slow–ebbing shrouds. The weather’s clearing but, alas, not warming;_light sparkles on our coldest daysince winter last. No honeybees are swarming:_they’re told,...

. My Backyard  . The Campfire Elisha loves to build a fire; His dog is near, she loves to watch For birds that she will try to catch. They each pursue their own desire--- One by her leaps, one with a match. . The Dog House The dog house over...

. The Tundra Swan Its full and light and interfolding feathers __Number ten thousand plus, No wonder that the tundra swan out-weathers __With less than little fuss __The brisk Antarctic breeze, Yet half of them are quite superfluous. __Dear swan, I ask you please __To lend some excess down To...

. I Failed I failed so dramatically most early days I failed horribly in most critical ways I failed to use schooling at each different age I failed in the waste of my talents each stage I failed with some friendships in whole or in part I failed big time...

. Reflections on a Visit to Saint Augustine With each step up the old Castillo wall I pray The hurricane will detour east past Grand Bahama. If windborne flooding comes, it can’t be held at bay--- St. Augustine has only minimal protection: The remnants of its wall won’t hold off...

. Guitar music for "Sheebag Sheemore" performed by Jeff Eardley. . The Session Monday at the Shamrock Inn, So, the session does begin, Rosin up the fiddle’s bow, Get in tune and off we go. Pipes and flutes and mandolin, More musicians coming in, Carolan alive once more, As we...

. St. Patrick’s Day, 2025 While swathed in swirls of green, some raise a glass Of dark elixir topped with sheeny cream. Some twirl through Derry streets and Kerry grass In dreams ablaze with leprechauns that beam With larks as lilting harps spill silver tunes Of mountain thyme with shivers...

. Simple Simon Responds to Sayings of Captain Obvious English literature tends to be wordy. Many tricks are exceedingly dirty. On a bright sunny day the whole sky appears bluish. All the teachers that pray in Old Hebrew are Jewish. The weather is always mercurial. Some questions are strictly rhetorical....

. Opening extract from Canto 9 DoorWay: Arriving in Aquarius The poet, wrenched from love’s bliss with Seraphina in Canto 8, is carried onward by the Butterfly to his final destination. His journey leads him past the cosmic scorpion—his own sign—forcing him to confront the lingering shadows of mortality. Yet,...

. A Summer Evening The sky begins to cloak its face, Removing every streak of red. Above, two weary flyers trace The way back to their bough-held bed. A boy, awash with joy, returns Soil-vested from a football field. To celebrate the victory earned, He swaggers with his pride revealed....

. Beyond All Words Can words alone, in skill-scribed shape or form— Inspired by muse or writ with feathered plume— Express the stark-dark depth of death-dread storm? Or fell despair of bleak-black hopeless doom? Can laureled laureate’s ode of limn-lit love Convey or capture rapture’s ecstasy? Or sonnets Portuguese dare...

. Eternally Grounded There’s up and down, forward and back, Of opposites we have no lack. We have the dark and we have light, And we have left as well as right. We’ll choose to fight or run away, Keep moving on or maybe stay. Might be joyous or just...

. Mussolini's Minions ---Segesta, 2012 Entranced, we wander round the temple site.The hot Sicilian sun beats down. I’m frayed,now seek the parking lot's uncertain shade.My brother John’s nearby, though not in sight.I spot a limestone post, eye-level height.What are these bas-reliefs, chipped and decayed?Focusing on the figures, I’m dismayed.Bound rods,...

. A Fisherman’s Life The fronds of the palm trees sway in the breeze. A lone tiny boat is bounced by the seas. The sunset is orange, reflection is brown. The sailboat is cruising, searching for ground. Its sails are not open; winds aren't enough. It turns to the land...

. Cherry Tree One summer day not long ago a man planted a tree, With tender love and patience he invested energy. He poured his hope and faith into the little budding leaves, For by this time next year he thought that apples he would eat. But then the year...

. Blind Watchmaker A blind watchmaker tinkered for billions of yearswithout blueprints for making his intricate gears.So, he failed many times but got up when he felland was shocked when he made not a watch, but a cell. From that cell, which he made from primordial slime,every creature evolved through...

. Pumpkin Spice The scent of Autumn lingers in the air With hints of ginger, cinnamon, and clove; At 42nd Street and Herald Square, On 8th Street, Bleecker, Christopher, and Grove--- Each crowded sidewalk, every crosswalk where New Yorkers sip their pumpkin latte dreams. The years run back to homemade...

. The Core of War a pantoum The trickster charms and arms both sides--- He funds the ally and the foe. His hype unites and it divides. He’s oh so anti… also pro. He funds the ally and the foe. His crimson riches rocket in. He’s oh so anti… also...

. Of Elizabeth Bishop Ms. Bishop is one able–eyed observer;her vision is acute, that’s plain to see.Staring at her, I doubt I could unnerve her,though from the page she sometimes unnerves me.The variations she can ring on linesthat reach their end in (word, not fact!) “disaster,”wherein her art so eminently...

. An Ode to a Hymn “Like aught that for its grace may be Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery” ---Percy Shelley in “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” Cathedral with its prayer sings homily _About an ancient mystery, _What is this ancient mystery! Oh God, are you in truth my...

. Kitchen-Sink Musings It’s International Women’s Day today But as a flunkee in biology I’m told I’m far from qualified to pay Fair tribute to such morphing majesty. As I’m a wombed and bosomed dinosaur With brazen XX chromosomes to boot, I’ve lost my precious Reddy right to roar--- My...

. Nishijin Weaving In the tranquil heartThere is no scattering ofBlossoms once gathered. ―Satomura Jōha, master of linked verse The shining fabrics of nobilityDemand the planning of a pattern first.The weaver trusts to instinct in design,And looks ahead to twenty tedious tasks,Each specialized. There is humilityIn knowing all and delegating...

. Gossiping Hinges Some think we hinges only squeak __because we seek __an oily drop __to make us stop, but hinges gossip day and night, __our message, quite __distinctive. We, __with raucous glee, say 'hi' to hinges down the street __we'd like to meet, __or squawk a song __for sing-a-long....

. Craft ---a conversation between Beauty and Productivity "You don't have time for this, you know." "Says who?" "That daily checklist down there in your tool bar, that's who says!" "Calm down. You need to cool your jets and let me think." "Think? That's what you call this? You look...

. A Token of Espousal Sister Elisabetta Dardinelli Speaks Concerning the Token of Espousalof Saint Catherine de’ Ricci (1522-1590) Dixit mihi Dominus meus: Ne timeas, filia: Non rapiet tequisquam de manu mea. My Lord said to me: Be not afraid, daughter; no one willtake you from My hand.  —Carmelite Breviary...

. Ode to the Sun . I Oh first and longest-lasting of my friends, Helen Aurelia, how can I express Through this guitar o’er which my finger bends, And these fine words, each wanting in finesse, The warmth with which you lovingly caress My frail and frigid form upon the...

. Ashes Before the Lenten ashes fade and thin, I might remind myself of those regrets More earnest than a taste for sweets Or bad TV and that my conscience meets With frightening ease at times far greater sin. I might recall the truth the sign abets: The cross traced...

. Seeing the Forest Listen to the rustle of the foliage in the forest, _And note the motes of pollen floating there; Muscle headlong through the brush and never feel embarrassed _If you get whiplashed on your derriѐre. Spurs are meant to drive you on to where your eyes are...

. Give Praise for These Days of Old Age You’re up in the morning, you moan and you groan, You’re feeling the grinding of bone against bone. When your knees have embarked on a life of their own, _Then give praise for these days of old age. You’re down at...

. The Greatest Time of Fatherhood I know that I’m supposed to say The finest time is now—today. And with all their accomplishments, That would indeed make lots of sense. And yet the greatest time of all To me was back when they were small— With boundless joy they would...

. A Brief Return Hey, little girl. I’ve come to check on you;To hear your voice, to see your face anew.Can it be true? Has it been seven years?You’ve grown up nicely since I went away.I’m proud to see you on your Wedding Day---This day on which you sought me...

. We Already May Be in Purgatory The Peterson Postulate "What if this life is just a test so we can become better people?" ---The White Lotus HBO TV series What if God has sent us all to Purgatory? It’s our second chance in His Reformatory. Here, we toil and...

. Zelensky Gets a Hard Lesson Zelensky comes strutting, in hope of a payout— Trump and young J.D. are trusting that he’ll Accept their diplomacy’s well-crafted layout Of how the Ukraine needs a cease-fire deal. Zelensky has burned through a mountain of dollars— (Three hundred billion is what he’s received)....

. Snapshot It's morning and you rise. You shake your hairAnd stretch yourself a bit, your elbows high,Your blue night gown illuminated byA slant of light that smolders in the air. I want to keep you here just as you are---Your smiling face and hair confused just so,Your two bare...

. Winter at the Pond I scan the pond. Young birches standing there Have given up their leaves. I set my gaze On trees in water and on trees in air, Where all is peace, with nothing to amaze. The cold, harassing breeze has dropped away. Late sun comes through...

. Bloat A warrior is battling the bloat Of bulging skivers bleeding strivers dry--- The gloating glut of grubbers kept afloat By worn out workers as these shirkers shy Away from promises that snared their vote. A warrior is battling the bloat. A conqueror is scything surplus fat. The plumpest...

. The Dark Wood: Canto I of Dante’s Inferno by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) translated by Stephen Binns Midway along the journey of our days __I found myself astray in a dark wood, __for lost was right direction in that maze. How hard a thing to speak of how it stood:...

. A Show Tonight The young dawn pierces languid night And dips the theater in newborn light. The Shen Yun trucks are at its doors, For there will be a show tonight. The crewmen build but time is tight With staging, props, two hundred lights. They dare not let a...

. The Vice Worse than the addiction of a smoker, And harder to get over than cocaine, More drawing than to gamblers their poker Is a vice that never ends the game. It’s worse than the attraction of a hooker And easier to fall into its claws. If Death came...

. Distance Kills Distance kills. It’s always true. In time and space, In all we do. Those on our team, Who leave the sport. Those at our work Who find new port. The friends we make Who move away. The school we loved--- Though we did say… “Let’s keep in...