Images

Poetry: The River-Merchant’s Wife

IMG_0342You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses,
Too deep to clear them away!
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with August
Over the grass in the West garden;
They hurt me.  I grow older.
If you are coming down through the narrows of the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you
   As far as Cho-fu-Sa.
                          --Ezra Pound

via Poet.

Valentine’s Day Poem

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?
—IMG_0836

Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1792 – 1822

via Valentine’s Day Poem.

Poetry- Water Under World

IMG_0456I wanted a shirtless lifeguard

at the waterpark to see me, so I leapt

from the flotilla of plastic innertubes

into the waist-deep canal, where spotlit

mummies craned animatronic                                                                                   necks.

He came. He rustled, furious,

from a plastic hedge and banned

me from the Lost River of the

Pharaohs for life.

 

-Hannah Faith Notess

Poetry – The Sea and the Hills

IMG_0630IMG_0511Who hath desired the Sea? -the sight of salt water unbounded-

The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?

The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, formless, enormous and growing-

Stark calm on the lap of the  Line or the crazy-eyed hurrican blowing —

–Rudyard Kipling

Poetry

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAEulogy for the Costa Rican Ghosts

Knocking bamboo ushers in their moans.

Neither missing nor white,

they wonder who you are and what you are doing

and why life has left them and spared you –

imperfect as you are.

 

I feel their aching in the night air

their souls shaking in the tropical trees.

I remember their presence here

and bear them closer as time goes by…

my years stealing to inevitable death.

–Eileen Kennedy