Beauty

. The City, 1852 by Hans Theodor Woldsen Storm (1817-1888) translated by Dusty Grein Past the gray beach, beside the gray sea, lies a wondrous gray city of old. Heavy fog blankets the roofs all around and in silence, the sea roars quite bold. No rustling of trees in the...

. The Shadow of My Sorrow As soon as day has dawned and night is done, The shadow of my sorrow follows me, Outgrows the shape by which it came to be, Consuming it when night is new begun; And being my likeness, how can I outrun My other self,...

. Time Travel I chance upon a sylvan glade, an Orphic place: moon threads, a lace of nightkin shadows. A trill of breeze awakes the guardian trees, live oaks in gowns of moss, tall runes of pine. I hear the soft slow sound of fairy rings, up from the inner...

. Castile by Miguel de Unamuno (Spain, 1864-1936)translated by Cheryl A. Corey O Castile! You raise me up in the rugged palm of your hand;To the sky that burns, that cools, that holds you under its command. A mother of hearts and arms for a land that’s sinewy, lean, and clear;Who...

. The Snuff Box from a true story told in My Mother by Fr. Bernard Vaughan (1847-1922) When I was just a little boy, My mother served us shepherd’s pie. We thirteen children sniffed with joy, With statue faces, on the sly. But quenching hunger was my goal, So while...

. So Close By At one point I was told that I Was purposely created by Some perfect being in the sky Who watches as I live and die. If that was true, I wondered why When perched atop His throne up high He’d let creation go awry; I asked...

. Comfort I gaze upon the endless sea against high cliffs, on golden sand— her everlasting majesty. Through ages rolling wild and grand, oblivious to time and space, against high cliffs, on golden sand. Her every mood my cares erase— there’s healing in each surge and flow, oblivious to time...

. Practical Philosophy The mind is meant to lead the body, And not the other way around. Permit no workmanship that’s shoddy, And build foundations plumb and sound. The godless, too, exalt their gods, Though often in the guise of science. Like little peas in brittle pods, Their order suffers...

. Life on the Farm Daddy’s gone. Is he sleeping? For only the shell remains. I hear the cries of cicadas. I listen to their pain. Momma, why are you weeping? Did Daddy push you away? Her tears rob the cicadas, And we live in silence today. Pain is the...

. The Land of Dreams written on the eve of India's Republic Day of India which is celebrated on Jan. 26 every year Some distance far away, the drumbeats sound __And echo victories now past; __Where clouds of slavery had cast Their shadows; every place a battle ground, And every...

. Look Up and See the Music Psalm 19:1 In winter, when the atmosphere is still And cold, and when the nighttime sky is clear, The stars and planets, fire and ice, blast chill- Blazed, hot-white light so bright as to seem near. No “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” for in...

. The Stonechat Listens at the Asylum Window I fear I might mistranslate what you said And lose the very essence of your words. May I record you as I do the birds: The warbler, shrike and wren, red’s wild-combed head Who can’t fly straight because his wings are strained...

. Note: Burns Night is when Scotland’s most important bard, Robert Burns (1759-1796), is celebrated, usually with the recitation of Burns’ poems, the eating of haggis, and the drinking of whisky. It occurs on January 25, Burns’ birthday. . An English Sonnet for the Scottish Bard for Burns Night Tonight, I’m...

. The Problem of Good a Petrarchan sonnet If there’s (the armchair philosopher maintains) A God (most likely writing in his blog), Then why’s the world in such a dismal fog Of evil will and endless human pain? Each day the whole thing just gets more insane And sad. No...

. . On Alma Tadema’s Coign of Vantage Flora peeks over the marble parapet, a dizzying perch above the azure Aegean. The Roman fleet is returning. 'Tis the season to flirt, to catch a lover in her net. Julia and Livia stand close, her bosom friends. Tomorrow they’ll break their...

. Ever Flowing Upon the rushing river’s bank I stand, deep water, ever flowing as it goes. The turbulence of my life it reflects as if my mortal pain, it truly knows. I close my eyes while cruel heartache builds and boils. It swirls and churns from deep within, akin...

. John Adams in Heaven John and Abigail Adams are being guided through heaven by John Milton. He takes them to a villa in the Elysian Fields, where they meet a famous Roman who shows them a vision of their political ancestors. Near spartan fields that nurtured simple roots, A...

. Bats at Sunset The monster is rotund, vile, enormous, three-muzzled, and barking ---Vasily Trediakovsky, after Virgil The woods are lovely, dark, and deep ---Robert Frost Last night the bats were flying so low that I could see their faces. Each of them looked like a Soviet relative of mine,...

. The Calendar You are the festive dregs of January,you liven February with Valentine’s.You are the March that gives spring sanctuary,you are the splashing rain April confines.You entertain the shaken buds of May,then are the shining June that bronzes all.You’re endless July---every holiday,you’re balmy August thwarting autumn’s pall.You are September’s...

. Moments from Dante’s Inferno Prepared to travel, if the gods allowed, I saw the woods were dreary, dark as death. I chose to heed a blessing there endowed, before emerging spirits took a breath. And that was Virgil, orator and font of god-like wisdom. He began to speak: "The...

. Banish the Thought Who are you? Not me, I know You creep and crimp my edges fray, An apparition of Dickens’ play--- Who are you? Not me, I know. Push and prod and now you’re in, Little sprite you always win--- Who are you? Okay, I know Like tug...

. Swimming with Dreams and Memory My childhood dreams and memories remain through adulthood and old age. My doll speaks. My toy car surfs that tidal wave, again. I’m still afraid of darkness, and the creaks and groans of our sleeping house at night. My mother, long-dead, beckons from a...

. Gloucester in July A thousand silent saints and angels Hewn from vertex, plane, and angle Raised by blow of mason’s hammer Raised from stone to watch the faithful Underneath the sinners stammer Pray and weep, confess and clamber The thousand faces, gray, unblinking Witness judgement’s heavy hammer Saints and...

. Beatitude Be glad and smile, for they revile, The Truth they mock and put on trial, The Beauty they do not possess, The Good, they curse, and will not bless, For Christ foretold this world’s own bile. Sit back and watch your mirth beguile, A culture which has no...

. El Pescado They gloat: the age of Pisces, it is over. They chant to call Aquarius’ forces in. In the deep labyrinths we sought the sign, The two-stroke fish, walls clammy, glittering. The old Mass book fell open in my hands: The prayer for government, prayer for the king,...

. The Christmas Story An angel of the Lord, Came forth with joyful news, Of Him Who is adored, Messiah of the Jews. The angel hailed the one, A Virgin pure and bright, Who chosen for the Son, Would crush the serpent’s bite. “Oh Favored one behold, Thou shalt conceive...

. The Wind Listen, listen! Do you hear it?  It is on the march tonight--- The incessant winter wind that blows throughout the wood and glade. Like a spectral army passing through the night in grim parade--- Do you hear its restless movement where no moonbeam sheds it light? Do...

. Worth Disguised The hammer lifts, the anvil rings, The room with screaming noises brings __A torture, here inflicted. The bellows pump, the fire smokes, A prodding chisel pries and pokes. __This trial seems unscripted. The flames blaze hot, the subject melts, No pain like this has e’er been felt...

. Bingo Ladies Gray-haired gals meet twice a week, Have their luncheon with the clique At the Wendy’s in Coppell. After they have talked a spell Off to northwest part of Dallas To the Giant Bingo Palace. First they greet the Palace guards Then select their lucky cards. Thirteen at...

. This Side of Eternity I. Imagination, you’re a two-edged sword, The universe your oyster, opened wide; Conceiving all the boon life might afford In dazzling display: what may be tried, Perpetual possibilities, outpoured Before the casual confidence of pride. Infinity thus beckons, but we err Who hope to taste...

. For Sophie Pakaluk Barrows based on The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God by Michael Pakaluk in pie quebrado meter Before God made her soul and mind, Before her parents’ genes entwined __To start life’s spark, To them each priest and doctor bade That no more children should...

. Be Gone an angry teenage daughter to her absconded mother What irritant incited you to leave And not come back while I was left to grieve? Was it the man you wed, the girl you bore, Your dispositions? Tell me: Why? What for? I learned to live without you...

. The Fluctuations of Modernity and Antiquity a pantoum __Something is ahead, A solemn note on open sky, __It rises from the dead, A whizzing plane of time gone by. A solemn note on open sky, Reminds me of the shopping mall, A whizzing plain of time gone by, A...

. Queen of Jubilees A Queen there was, revered, of global fame--- Elizabeth the Second was her name. For three-score-years-and-ten she ruled the roost and gave us Brits a self-assuring boost through walkabouts and bric-a-brac that bore her likeness. She was loved by rich and poor who visited each town...

. Elegy for an Unremarkable Man Poor Niel is dead. He’d been off sick since May. Cancer, they said, as if we couldn’t guess, And, since we didn’t know what words to say, We stayed away. If pressed, we might confess We’d turned our jellied backs to his distress, Acting...

. Thorns Grow with Song It’s time to rend our hearts and look inside The chambered will, into the voices in The vein: thorns grow with song. A hope applied With mercy calls the tuner of the tidal Pull of the soul, brings rest, denying sin It’s time. To rend...

. Mourning Louis XVI We must not say in public that we mourn--- Sit still, Brigitte, and listen to your père! If we disclose our grief we court the hate Of France’s revolutionary swarm. These days are bleak for those of us well-born. Hell take that bloody butcher Robespierre, Whose...

. The Departing Year This night shall stand and stare with wintry rage Through half-closed windows stained in loss and gain; To measure all astounding feats and fame Against those bitter tears in blinding rain. The memories shall never wane with sight, Nor lend to coming days a newer tone;...

. The Babylonian Exile At first it cut much quicker to the bone: The loss of all, our world brought to the brink. But by and by you slowly start to think That maybe your concerns were overblown. Their gods are gods of appetite and prone To drunkenness from bouts...

. The Sky with Birds Just Lately Born Sometimes there’s a sadness in my heart. A stone, a thought, a fearful start. Yet I rise and see the morn, The sky with birds just lately born. So brave they try their early wings And taste wet crumbs of earthly things....