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Random Poem

© Wang Wei

You also come from my home town,
You must know all the home town news.
At dawn, before the silken window,
Is it too cold for plum blossom to show?

A fisherman is drifting, enjoying the spring mountains,
And the peach-trees on both banks lead him to an ancient source.
Watching the fresh-coloured trees, he never thinks of distance
Till he comes to the end of the blue stream and suddenly- strange men!

Sometimes I'd walk

© Wang Wei

Sometimes I'd walk,
walk far from home,
the things I've seen,
and I alone.

The Smile on the Face of a Kouros

© William Bronk

This boy, of course, was dead, whatever that
might mean. And nobly dead. I think we should feel
he was nobly dead. He fell in battle, perhaps,
and this carved stone remembers him

On a young Lady Whose LORD was Travelling.

© Anne Killigrew

NO sooner I pronounced Celindas name,
But Troops of wing'd Pow'rs did chant the fame:
Not those the Poets Bows and Arrows lend,
But such as on the Altar do attend.

A Pastoral Dialogue (Melibæus, Alcippe, Asteria, Licida, Alcimedon, and Amira. )

© Anne Killigrew

Melibæus. WElcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade,
Distemp'ring Heats do now the Plains invade:
But you may sit, from Sun securely here,
If you an old mans company not fear.

The Miseries of Man

© Anne Killigrew

As a fit Place to take the sad Relief
Of Sighs and Tears, to ease oppressing Grief.
Near to the Mourning Nimph she chose a Seat,
And these Complaints did to the Shades repeat.

To my Lady Berkeley, Afflicted upon her Son, My Lord BERKELEY's Early Engaging in the Sea-Service

© Anne Killigrew

In bloody Conflicts he will Armour find,
In strongest Tempests he will rule the Wind,
He will through Thousand Dangers force a way,
And still Triumphant will his Charge convey.
And the All-ruling power that can act thus,
Will safe return your Dear Telemachus.

The Poet

Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song,
To me alone, to me the lonely one

I Know, You Walk--

I walk so often, late, along the streets,
Lower my gaze, and hurry, full of dread,
Suddenly, silently, you still might rise
And I would have to gaze on all your grief

I Am 25

With a love a madness for Shelley
Chatterton Rimbaud
and the needy-yap of my youth
has gone from ear to ear:

Gregory Corso

Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb
Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you
Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt the jawbone of an ass
The bumpy club of One Million B.C. the mace the flail the axe