Short Poems

Where ships of purple gently toss
On seas of daffodil,
Fantastic sailors mingle,
And then—the wharf is still.

There was a man o' Adam's race,
Wha had a certain dwellin' place;
It was neither in heaven, earth, nor hell,
Tell me where this man did dwell.

John Keats
Among other notable feats
Drank off a soup-tureen
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene.

Shouldst thou a little red man descry
Asking about his dwelling fair,
Tell him it under the bank doth lie,
And its brow the mark of the coal doth bear.

Down by the meadows, chasing butterflies,
Two little folk were taken by surprise,
When a tiny gallant came, with a bow and a smile,
And begged them to be seated, in his mushroom house awhile

light breeze
but just enough to carry
plum blossoms' scent

Let forty thousand pecks of pearls
rest on the lotus leaves.
I box and measure them
to send them off somewhere.
Tumultuous rolling drops—
how zestful, graceful.

I don't like foreign languages; I won't study them;
And I've never translated barbarian words.
Tell you of Zen? It's what's topsy-turvy,
What makes the Prince of the West die of laughter.

departing autumn—
water feels softer

Here Aretine lies, most bitter gall,
Who whilst he lived spoke evill of all,
Only of God the arrant sot
Naught said, but that he knew him not.