Beauty

(thanks for your kindness) How like a star in a darkening sky, appears an unexpected friendly deed. How much more so when storm warnings belie the growth potential of one’s kindling seed. But though my firmament was overcast from waiting for a bus to get to work - which forced...

Mulched beyond bones, but reprieved, Wolfgang has a home in my mind, and he’s still bereaved. From his pauper’s grave, and with a whispered pitch, I’ve summoned him with my ‘On/Off’ switch. I’ve a front row seat, alone in my darkened room. Herr Mozart performs for an audience of one,...

  On Super Bowl LI I went to bed. The Falcon’s made it 28 to 3 and yet I never should have doubted the poised Tom Brady. Halfway through the third-quarter he had a ways to go. I woke up in the AM and was quite flummoxed to know the...

There used to be a limpid lake Home to the finest birds you'd find. We'd watch their glory till daybreak. But now those days are far behind. I used to hear the bullfrogs croak Before the pond was quarantined. We left the woods in haze and smoke And all the...

What thoughts has thinking hard put in my brain, that show a different world than my eyes see, before, things easier were, clear and plain, but now are always less than used to be. What did I learn from all that reason claims? A lot indeed, and that can’t be...

  Bubbles I swish the stick To watch a spread of bubbles gleam; Free and delightful they float Almost a dream. This pristine orbs, A fragile yet audacious batch Seem hopeless until they reveal A rainbow patch. They move away And occupy a placid realm To demonstrate the physics of...

  A Strange and Sweet Unrest Awake forever with a sweet unrest . . .” —John Keats, “Bright Star” She stands at the windowpane, no one in sight, No one behind her in the silent room, No human form to be seen in the sultry night; And, for a moment,...

“This foyer of the spirit is the seat of a sovereign.” - Anca Rosu The lyric lures release of thought, emotive creation, human-made; a breath-carved essence in one’s idea, the living word in phrases drawn, life’s lost thoughts of ages gone, words old as grass or dreams. Emotion’s measure from...

Ballad: Our Crew of Two When we set forth, the breeze blew fair, The sun shone balmy, warm. Our sheets were fixed; sail filled with air, No warning of the storm. Our crew of two, so cheerfully, With confidence untried, Thought we could lick the strongest sea And still enjoy...

Song of Ulysses For greatness and glory’s sake For all things rich and noble In proud ships tall let us make Again where only men are able Tired we’ve grown of glitter and gold Of the clamor of the market place Let us dream of Delphic days of old That...

  Old School I saw two women at a table in a small café Not making eye contact or talking, but in their own way Communicating, and I found myself a bit perplexed. Then realized that they had iPhones®, and were sending texts. They sipped their drinks without a word,...

  Walked the Mountain What shape is that, the mountain's brow? A glacier field, a glacier field! I walked to read the mountains mood; Of what I read my lips are sealed. What threads make up the mountain's collar? Columbine! They're Columbine! I walked to color in my day; Do...

Rising above the silt and murky mud, Clean and pure is the small pink bud, Supported by a supple stem of jade, Adorned with gleaming dew drops, crystal made. Elegant yet sweet this gentle bloom, Penetrating the bleak, surrounding gloom, Steadfast, and honorable heart unmoved, Its light fragrance adds to...

Shin-Rin-Yoku Forest Bathing You stand beneath this canopy of trees, surrender will, hold still.   You close your eyes and listen as the rustling of the leaves and lapping breeze-blown waters tranquilize. Inhaling deeply, you can breathe the smell of dew-damp soil, the scent of pungent pine, organic emanations.  All is...

  Departure Like escaping through a siege, growing older       Hampers itself with hopes of return; So if, over your bare shoulder, Upwind palaces start to smolder,       Let them burn. Woken by ax-hack and sword-clang, at once you knew       Better than to arm for the defense Of gates your foes stream...

  The Terrorists Tears feed the sweeping sands beneath their feet, And blood runs deep into the living ground. The sun throbs down with agonizing heat. The captives kneel, blindfolded, with no sound: Only the jitter of the distant bug, The hum of desert winds above the trees, The spikes...

Water Music Just as white as a blanket of new-fallen snow Is the noise of a waterfall cresting a brim And ebulliently thrashing the basin below. But the sound of a freshet resembles a hymn, Its discrete iterations like chants that were spoke By the guardian spirits of hillside and...

The Speaker Unaccustomed to Such Oratory Feats The speaker - unaccustomed to such oratory feats - cleared his throat, a bit too loudly, while he fumbled through his sheets. The crowd sensed, early on, that they were in for a rough ride - when he called the "ladies" "laddies" and...

  Color streams burst brightly in a flourish of elation, Each to soar and cover night's condoning, lofty, canvas – Livening this moment, man-made shooting stars' vibration Emanate our gladness to be living. Will they preface Broad displays of kindness to complete this hopeful painting? Righteous souls endeavor, far and...

  How Can You Feel Blue? How can you feel blue When you look toward the sky And see the darkling silhouette Of birds, as gracefully they fly In strict formation 'cross The iris of your eye? How can you feel blue When you pause upon the shore To watch...

To Michael Dana Gioia* By Cal Wes Ubideer The Word within the World that articulates itself does not exist in sunlight or in leaves upon a shelf, upon computer monitors, or on stones on a path; the Word speaks only dialects of purest being's math, the human kiss somehow divine...

  Unspoilt, unique, a soulful place Ancient oaks all around Scattered acorns sprouting shoots New life emerging from the ground I touch the parchment bark of birch It's leaves shimmering in the breeze My spirit soars in the forest glade Resurrected there among the trees It takes me back to...

. . On the Winter Solstice Winter Winter cold and crass Winter Winter old the grass Fast we go across the field Massed the snow and frost to wield Night of rest abed when tired Light and fest and sled and fire . . Caryatids At lunch I sat and...

By Jane Blanchard On December 5, 1830, Christina Rossetti was born in London to an Italian-English mother married to an Italian poet in exile.  The youngest of four children, all of whom grew up to be published authors, Rossetti became so well regarded for her work that she was mentioned...

  Obi-Wan Bin Laden RIP Let’s remember what God wants: Killing people’s never right, So Obi-Wan Bin Laden then Cannot be a Jedi knight. To make folks free you face them straight - Backstabbing lacks God’s protocol; So Obi-Wan Bin Laden looks Like something that has lost its soul. He’s...

A rondeau on Shen Yun Performing Arts By Evan Mantyk I love the dance that can exalt The human form without a fault, Demeanor grand, inspiring pose; They’re swift yet seem in sweet repose And all my troubled thoughts they halt. Then when as one they somersault It’s like a...

  In an Unfinished Honeycomb:  An Old Story As lichen on a rock expands, so you grow in love on the lap of your mother until --- smothering her presence you burst aglow into green adolescence. Seldom still, you run before the bulls, climb peaks, favor dreams to feed your...

Unforeseen Good Fortune’s Heirs Are We There’s little of the Plague that we can find to celebrate except for this small gem – when those who died left property behind it often changed their family’s lives for them. Their station rose, by education freed from toiling years in poverty and...

  Wood Nymph A wood nymph knocked on my door last night           her hair was flaxen gold the ivy trailing through my mind           another story told: of winding rivers, banks and willows           together we had seen and in her presence wild pheasants           like the peacock seemed. The iridescence that she...

  Exhale swift, what crimson breeze; Amber crisp and fuchsia Colors adorn leaves on the trees Their coats of misty rouge. And clap, applaud with festive show Aware not of the scent; The musky smell of rot and woe Swoop, glide on currents brisk. Finger tips reaching for the ground;...

December—not April cruelest, nor June In moon—must be the most romantic month, Why else make men of snow, or gods of men, Or turn the world virgin-white, life in death? At dusk, a chickadee, cold-ruffed, calls out For light, for PHOE-be, not because he’s fool- Hardy, in touch with nothing...

  Christmastime Lush green tree, wet pine scent fills the air. Strings of tiny gems, that plump tree, strangle, Children’s handmade trimmings everywhere, Red and green and bells that jingle-jangle. Atop the tree a glowing angel prays. At bottom, gifts abundant, overflowing Spread outward from the base in grand display;...

Kindness and Stars The gentle touch and splendid gift Intended to restore and heal Is rich enough to move and lift Our souls beyond the grief we feel. Though stars a twinkle only show, Their powerful in depth and scope That without wrinkle, smooth bestow Our gaze aloft with calm...

  So Far, So Good One friend fears his father’s Alzheimer fate, another prepares herself for the end while her husband tries not to cry or state she can’t leave, but for her sake he pretends he’s as cheerful as she, as impatient for her trouble and pain to fly...

  Pygmalion at Twilight Like a fiery dawn came we forth unto Our place on pedestals above the dunes Of disappointment – longing dared to paint A fairer portrait, distorted by the wait; A gilded goddess ye straight forth became, And I, a worshipper to give ye name! Ages we...

  Culloden Moor At last they met. No sound. Arrays deployed. It was the perfect day—no haze, no shine. Long minutes lapsed before the bagpipes trilled. By noon it all ran smooth. Forlorn and void. No banner waved. No circle stood. No line. With peace and level smoke the field...

. . Said the Painter Upon the mossy stones I dwelt,I did, and was, and painting feltAn arch and angel bend to speak,Their sainted tones my brush to seek. And why such was, I could not say,But much they wrought, and taught that day:O hush of strife, unsought by me,O...

  Persistent Danger Where is this going when state and foe mow down civilians and non-combatants in market stalls? They shock and flame like an erratic clown whose grisly creativity appalls, resolving citizens to not shut down. As killing stalks with permanent, present dangers, our crowded sense of continuance recalls...

  Aleppo By Cid Wa'eeb El Sur We will drain it dry as hay. Peace shall neither night nor day hang upon its pent-house lid; it shall be a place forbid. Weary seven months times nine, shall it dwindle, peak and pine. Though its spot cannot be lost, yet it...

  Intimations of a Dream When the wind rustles through the open pine, And the leaves murmur and shudder off dew; When the sun, like an undeciphered sign, Through the imperial vault of swimming blue, Creeps through the mist to light the vague outline Of lovers in the park unknown...