Friday, December 21, 2012

Captain Robinson By Edgar Lee Masters

If the tune "spoon river", played by the nameless fiddler,
Heard by me as a youth in the evenings of 57,
By the cabin door on the banks of the little stream,
May under the genuine witty hands of Percy Grainger,
Become a symphony utterable to the baton
of great conductors, and only thus, in brasses,
Viols, violins, flutes, and strings of the harp,
The bloom of the drum, the thunder tubes of the organ-
If this may be, may not my dream of the sixties
Flower to a dream of song, a great Republic?
Till the smoke of the cabin, the smell of honey and corn,
And days of labor, and evenings of neighborly talk,
And nights of peaceful sleep under friendly stars,
And courage, and singing nerves, and honest hope,
And freedom for men to live as men, and laughter,
And all sweet things that ripple the tune of the fiddler,
become a symphony rich and deep as the sea.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Life's Lessons : Author Unknown

I learn, as the years roll onward,
And leave the past behind,
That much I had counted sorrow
But proves that God is kind;
That many a thorn of pain,
And many a rugged bypath
led to fields of rippened grain.
The clouds that cover sunshine
they cannot banish the sun;
And the earth shines out the brighter.
when the weary rain is done
We must stand in the deepest shadow
to see the clearest light;
And often through wrong's own darkness
comes the very strength of light.

I Live My Life In Widening Circles By Rainer Maria Rilke

I live my life in widening circles,
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
but I give myself to it.
I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
and I shall not know, wondering, am I falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

Translated By Anita Barrows,
and Joanna Macy

Sunday, November 25, 2012


Politeness is not always fitting,
Being polite could disappoint
because you won't get what you need
if you choose to give in,
it is a result
of inconsistence, weak
or meek position of blind
tolerance...we loathe
politeness, since it comprises,
and leads to frustrations.
Say "No" if you must,
wait for your turn
by standing behind
the long line,
take it
if people
gifts you
in true manners.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Poetry Is Money Itself? By Kay Ryan

Poetry is kind of money,
whose value depends on reserves.
It's not the paper it's written on
or its self-announced denomination.
But the bullion, sweated from the earth
and hidden, which preserves its worth.
Nobody knows how this works,
and how can it be? Why does something
stacked in some secrets bank or cabinet,
some miser's trove, far back, lambent.
and gloated over by its golem, make us
so solemnly convinced of the transaction
when Mandelstam says "gold", even
in translation?

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Dana Naone (Kaneohe, Oahu, Hawaii): The Distance

I have been sitting for days
trying to flatten my right breat
in hope of becoming an Amazon.
You appeared as a repairman
and went straight to the switch-
board behind my stomach.
a strange orange bird had been
pecking through all the wires,
You killed the bird and used
its feathers to make new connections.
My first call was to Egypt.
All the cobras came to the phone
flaring and hissing.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

What Does Poetry Do To Me? The 4 Line Run!

word connection and metaphors too,
they speak and express point of view.
Lyrics, Haiku, verses, tanka, free style...
poetry keeps your brain refreshed for a while...

After A Visit By Thomas Lanier Williams

The petals of the cosmos
are fallen to the vase;
And evening is denial
of all that morning was...
The smell of tea and lemon,
And an angle of a chair,
Remain your only signature
Against the darkening air.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Atlantica (Ya'Tai'Lan'Da) By Mary Mason

Atlantic, in your restlessness,
Run back and tell them all,
You know of the bliss
that passed between you,
Run back and tell them
of the pain she knew,
before coming to rest
in your resting place.

Thanks for the lovely award...Hyde Park Poetry.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Mango or Mangoes as Meng' Guo

Mangos, Mango, Mangoes, Meng Guo...

None tropical fruit,
Mangoes look orange and red,
Taste the rich texture.
Mangoes are rare here,
Mango juice is mixed then,
Special food to cheer.
Mangoes are not men's
rooms or where men go for sex,
Mangoes are unique food.
Don't think of blind dogs,
when you hear the name of mangoes,
they're sweet juicy fruit.

Image Credit:

Friday, October 19, 2012

Love Knows No Age By Elaine January Iodice

Love knows no age, no time at all,
As long as there's a heart that beats,
A mind to let us think and feel,
Love is now-forever more.
Long before a spoken word,
The sheltered warmth, the peacefulness
of love surrounds our tranquil world,
Oblivious to earth and space.
Months, then years, drift to a calm
of deep, true love when two are one,
a gentle touch, a smile, a word,
that fills the soul with peaceful bliss.
As long as there's an ocean's tide,
the air to breathe, a sun that shines,
Love knows no age, no time at all...
As endless as infinity...

Image Credit:

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Rainbow Thoughts

 Thursday Short Story Slam Week 29: Dramas and Freedom

Rain falls while the sun is still on,
All of a sudden the earth is wet and brown,
After the rain is gone,
An arch appears in the sky,
You see it, and feel young,
But it's out of reach, damn!
It's the beauty of nature,
Sunlight bending to unfold
the rich content inside the white beam,
Such treasury moment won't last
for long, but the memory
will remain and come along,
Love is like the rainbow,
It is there when
you're ready to fetch it,
It's felt and seen
but couldn't be bottled.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Love Lock (Poetry and Love)

Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 74 (October 4 -October 10)


Our body temperature
reaches the same level
as we lock our lust
with the warmth
of a kiss;
and the rages
of the anxious
The clock tells that
it's past midnight,
While we hoped longer sleep
under the jealous stars,
believing twilight is death.