Beauty

. Some Mornings Some mornings it’s just tough to find that place, That slippery perspective where I view The world as not entirely unbraced From all that’s good and beautiful and true. I can’t quite find my footing, all askew Within a landscape sadly out of line With all my...

. Byron Swims the Hellespont On May 9, 1810, Lord Byron swam across the Hellespont from Sestos to Abydos to duplicate the legendary back-and-forth trips made by the mythical Leander on visits to his lover Hero. This was a distance of about one nautical mile, in very cold water with...

. Deschutes River Reverie The river, swift and shallow, roils its way Beneath the outstretched arms of old-growth pines, Past bank-side willows diamond-dewed with spray, And hillside ferns and thimbleberry vines. A fallen cedar, once a forest lord, Contributes to the nascent euphony As broken branches add a vocal chord...

. Don't Laugh at a Christian God looked down on Noah And said "Construct an ark Bigger than a boat, More like a zoo or park." Friends said he was crazy Until the rain came down. That is when we learned The first fact checkers drowned. . . Some Men...

. . A Happy 80th Birthday Wish for the Poet's Father I wish for you the golden years Odysseus had Retired from life’s long strife, a sort of Trojan War: The births and deaths were bloody fights, some good, some bad; And there were far-flung journeys bringing more Adventures than...

. . To Winter for John Keats Where are the songs of spring? Now moving west All of us are into winter finally: Threadbare, lackluster, shorn-sheer, and with a limp Stepping down to die flatly, not climb. Ay, where are they? Not only songs for asking But every living composition...

. The Photograph The snowflakes tumble down like frozen tears, Which fall from every eye this winter day; They heard the call and answered without fear, Their country to defend without delay. A couple stands away from all the rest: Her head is bent, her shoulders hunched in grief, His...

. Cordelia's Choice Ye gods, what should I do with such ill news? My father, once the king, is now insane And stripped of dignity. What must I choose To set things right? Yet, pray, why should I fain Raise up this man who banished me from sight And left...

. Elegy for the Child Never Conceived His would-be parents had but days; The procreative ship sat docked, And with the passengers’ delays, That ship is gone, forever locked, But if, instead, he’d been conceived And been allowed to live and die, His soul could one day be received In...

. On the Anniversary of My Father's Death These rainy mornings have a subtle saltTo them that even in the city canBring back the pier, its rugged paint-chipped spanStill wet with early rain, where by default(Too risky for the boat) our soft assaultWas launched: the war of fishes versus man,A...

. Self Defense When he pulled out his knife I thought I had No choice so I pulled out my gun and shot Him twice, then ran the streets for miles, too glad That he lay there dead and that I did not. I got discovery in jail and read...

. Mistress Within those sheets, my mistress lay, her flawless form with perfect feet. One last embrace; I cannot stay! I hear her heart in metered beat. Her voice, a ballad siren song with lyrics begging my delay. But I’ve already been too long! Within those sheets, my mistress lay....

. Sumo's Winning Ways Fierce frontal impact clenches victory In less time than an untrained eye can blink, But connoisseurs of sumo’s treasury Prefer discriminating knack. They wink When force through fine technique shows mastery. Drive into the opponent, pull him close, Then push him, force him, thrust him, crush...

. The Angelus, Jean-François Millet (Musée d’Orsay) How soft across the field the muted peal Has caromed off the setting sun, the air September-ripe, the earth upturned, a pair Preoccupied with what it might reveal, And calls them to a place of mute appeal. He stabs his pitchfork in the...

. For Then by Manuel Gutiérrez Nájera (Mexico, 1859-1895) translated by Cheryl Corey O, to die upon the open sea At sunset, facing heaven, where agony Is but a dream; and soul, the essence of me, Is like a bird in flight that’s soaring free. To be already one with...

. While Pondering Alexander Pope’s "Ode to Solitude" Grateful am I in solitude while reading Pope’s inspiring ode, a time for pause---an interlude ____________in my abode. I’m whisked into the distant past that once again becomes all new; his words, his lines like shadows cast ____________as poets do. His quill,...

. The Drive to Reconcile __We never wish to eat a bug __Or force an unexpected hug, But intimacy doesn’t come without A cost, and those who disagree, no doubt, Are lost.  But nonetheless we cannot see Why we can’t love the ones who disagree __With everything that we believe,...

. Free Verse Let us free verse from "free verse" while we can;A pile of branches does not make a tree,And fruit squashed on a plate does not make jam.While words strung down a page can never be,As eloquent as structured poetry.Let us free verse from "free verse" while we...

. . Introduction Percy Bysshe Shelley was born August 4, 1792 and died in a boating accident on July 8, 1822. To mark the 200th anniversary of his death, Guntbert “Gunny” Markefka and the Powerpoets Project (© 2022) have put Shelley's poem "Line to an Indian Air" to music. Set...

. The Pigeon Once upon a workday morning, sleepy-eyed and loudly yawning, I was splattered without warning by a pigeon from the shore. At my half unconscious stupor, this unpardonable pooper, Took his aim just like a trooper from a raging bloody war, And he peppered me with pigeon poop...

. O Say, Can You See?   Let’s think as we sink into star-spangled wonder, Intolerable acts were the reason to fight Each pillaging bully who’d brazenly plunder The treasures of those who were drawn to the light. Let’s ponder the journey, the valiant history Of pilgrims in search of the...

. Anew Whisk me away to the mountainside. __Spirit me far to the glen. For I long to find that secret place __Where I can begin again. All of us long at least once in our lives __To flee from all that is known. But most of us die with...

. A Ballade on Being Commissioned  Twixt Florence and the Holy See Of every artist you could hire You thought it meet to torture me. You gave no weight to my desire But quick to wield the Church’s ire Commissioned me to paint for you And mount a scaffold ever...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHUuaA8DKiQ . On Palestrina's Music Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum, Ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus. Psalmus 41:2 As the deer desires springs of water, So my soul desires you, O God. Psalm 42:1 __Like the deer who longs for water ____And finds a living source, Listeners...

. Gleam by Any Means The poem that I seek to write, the piece with flair and form, Which raises spirits high as clouds on zephyr breezes warm, Or states a truth in such a way that brings a tear to the eye Remains, for now, elusive as a mist...

. Life Is a Dream by Pedro Calderón de la Barca (1600-1681) Translated by Elwin Wirkala The king dreams he is king, and lives with this deception ordering, disposing of and governing, and all the applauses he receives are but a loan writ on the wind and burnt to ashes...

. The Requisite I may have made a great mistake In my pursuit of solitude and grace; Perhaps have stumbled unaware Into an all-too-human ache I don’t know I’ve the fortitude to face Or honesty its source to bare. The emptying I thought I sought Has as indeed I’d planned...

. “Upon These Boughs that Shake Against the Cold” ---Shakespeare, Sonnet 73 Her script was always lovely and unique, And still unique when it began to wobble, Along with spoken words. Increasing trouble With memory made her less inclined to speak. But still, she wrote her letters. Before we’d started...

. There Is a Quiet Place There is a quiet place Where we can go to hide. A place where no one sees us, That cannot be denied. There is a quiet place Where we can go to think. A place to solve our problems And get our life in...

. Advice from the Untalented They smugly said I’d never make much money From playing with my words and making art, That it would be a waste to spread such honey So any fool could tear the thing apart. “Forget it! You have always been contrarian. There’s money to be...

. “In God We Trust” The motto for our nation boldly states, “In God we trust,” Which is, of course, a matter for each person to decide. We can’t assume such faith is held by all, nor is it just To claim it as prerequisite for patriotic pride. But even...

. Tongues as of Fire If men desire to find belief, to sing It out through throats works best to make the soul Embrace it.  This will make the sought faith zing Behind their hearts and manliness’s whole. The faith will throb straight through the tenor throats, The baritones and...

. The Duke D’Alençon Meets Joan of Arc What task from the dauphin comes to me hence? A lowly maid now seeks his audience. This Joan, a girl from province unheard of, They say she can hear voices from above. I care not for such things, but like the rest...

. Apollo in Retirement Quite early he approached a humble hut, With saxifrage and canneberge sun-brewed To melt the stone that galled the shepherd’s gut, And brighten him with warmth of health renewed. The healer was a handsome older man, Not much accustomed to go far beyond Spheres where his...

. In Praise of Bollywood To India! To visit from afar... My journey there would be a dream fulfilled. To visit Delhi, Agra, Bangalore, To ride an elephant, pluck a sitar; I’d see a thousand temples loudly filled And visit ruins steeped in Sanskrit lore. How I regret I’ve never...

. Speechless I have smelt the perfect scent of the flower of a rose, Known intoxicated freedom where frangipani grows. Watched majestic rivers meet the wild and moody sea, And flown right over mountains where only gods should be. I have drunk the purest water in the deepest caves on...

. Why This Time, Why This Place? When I die And leave this land, Please dear Lord Extend Your hand. Extend Your hand To this good soul, Who finds this life Does take a toll. The toll it takes Has many forms, Do this, do that--- One must conform. Conform...

. Judge Not We notice, Signor Alighieri, that You have a rather well developed bent For taking your opponents to the mat And showing them that in the Main Event They will be pinned like insects to a wall To illustrate their faults and consequent Amercements handed out to one...

. Classical Camouflaged __It begins, like all prose poems today, with a bit of narrated diary, as though it were a tale by Hemmingway, but more self-conscious and less flowery. __It then proceeds to rub the reader’s nose in an unrelated past happenstance where the tortured soul of the poet...

. Canzone to the Virgin by Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374) Translated by Margaret Coats Virgin beautiful, vested with the sun And crowned with stars, who pleased the Sun supreme So much that within you He hid his light, Love spurs me to speak words in your esteem, But only with your...