Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Cherry Blossom Festival Waimea 2010


Waimea Feb. 6 2010

Sonnet LXV: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea

by William Shakespeare
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Ode to New York City

I just read an amazing article in National Geographic with the most amazing photos and artist renderings of New York before and after.

I have not been to New York since 1991. I still have photos of myself and classmates on the top floor of the Twin Towers, and in my scrapbook I kept my ticket stubs for my trip to the top of the building. New York City is an amazing city, with a fascinating history. Click on the link above to see the online version of the article complete with the computer generated artists rendering of what Manhattan looked like 200 and 400 years ago.

There hasn't been a beaver in New York for 200 years.
We hunted these buck toothed creatures for their soft fur. I wish I could have seen the towering Chestnuts,the mushroom cloud Oaks, and Hickory trees. The sandy beaches contained feasts of oysters and clams. The 17th century Dutch village had a lovely pond. Deer sipped the fresh water, and ducks played in the far edge while Sunfish swam and leaped. Now we have the Marriot Marquis Hotel on the corner of Broadway and West 46th St.
The streams, and hills, and swamps, the eels, and pickerel are gone. The pond is gone. It was polluted by a tannery, then was buried by a slum. Foley Square now lies there with it's grey cement, asphalt, silver towers, red brick, and "golden arches".
One tree remains there in Foley Square. It once was one of millions, and now exists as a remnant, a single specimen for a museum, for posterity, a single tree with roots far beneath the cement, down where there is still dirt, dirt that was there before trappers, before soldiers, and bankers, before hot dogs, bagels, and pasta, before Sicilian pizza, dollar bills, Gucci, and Times Square.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Honolii Beach



First waves for Isaiah 2009

forgive
seventy times seven
more than the pebbles at Honolii
more than I can on my own
I could,maybe once
then I give up
My Higher Power must take over
it is a miracle to wake up
to open my eyes
it is a miracle just to be alive
to get up
to breathe

Friday, April 10, 2009

What I am hearing with my ears


i hear hysterical laughter
humming humming hum hum
Sufjan Stevens
singing singing singing
strum
i hear dancing feet,skipping,and running run
falling falling down
being too loud
wrestling, and jumping
making a sound
what was that sound?
redemption
violin
piano
the ground
hummmmming
tears,hysterical crying,sighing
i hear a joke
i hear smoke
i hear a frown
now a smile
i hear coldplay and a contradiction
a giggle
a trip
slam
7 pieces of beethoven
ingrid michaelson and a contraposition
i hear brother bob dylan
a son
a daughter
hummming
drumming
snapping
water

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Ode to the Compost Worm



You live in darkness moist and dirty,
eating things that are not perty.Compost worm.
Mango peels, and moldy bread, coffee grounds, and a carrot end,
anything rotten is your friend.Compost worm.
You like to sleep upon some poop, and there are maggots in your soup.Compost worm.
Dirt and filth, slime and germ, these are all delicious to the compost worm

Saturday, May 31, 2008

It is all the same to a sea turtle


I love sea turtles. When they sleep on the beach, they look so peaceful, and they just don't care about us. My mermaid self wishes she could sleep on the beach and swim all day. This guy(or girl) slept the whole time we were at the beach, and reminded me of this poem.

you may leave the clam on the ocean’s floor.
it’s all the same to the clam.
for a hundred thousand years or more
it’s all the same to the clam.
you may bury him deep in mud and muck
or carry him round to bring you luck
or use him as a hockey puck
it’s all the same to the clam.

you may call him tim or frank or nell
it’s all the same to the clam.
or make an ashtray from its shell
it’s all the same to the clam.

you may take him riding on a train
or have him sitting in the rain.
you’ll never hear the clam complain,
it’s all the same to the clam.

yes, the world may stop or the world may spin,
it’s all the same to the clam.
the sky may come a-fallin’ in,
it’s all the same to the clam.
and man may sing his endless songs
of wronging rights and righting wrongs.
the clam just stays - and gets along
it’s all the same to the clam. -Shel Silverstien