they say
it’s not normal
the winds here
in Izmir
this time of year
but they blow
trees bend sway
branches shiver
apples fall to the ground
outside
and I find
a heaviness I felt
before
being blown away
on the wind
over the hills
to the sea
beyond
Author: zdunno03
the future
like always
will be here
sooner than expected
just when
I was finally
getting used to
the past
ain’t that
a kick
in the head
expectations
say it isn’t so
because if it is
I will have to
rearrange
all my expectations
for tomorrow
fool that I am: for L
a voice
not my own
but suspiciously like yours
keeps waking me
at all hours
depriving me of sleep
whispering things
I haven’t heard
in many years
and fool that I am
I believe
and don’t believe
every single word
this night
the whirling
of a fan
the hiss
of a candle
the beating
of a heart
this world
familiar
changed
a corner
turned
a light
in a window
not noticed
before
a footstep
on gravel
a scent
in the air
even the cat
senses shifting
this night
An Argument by Thomas Moore
I’ve oft been told by learned friars,
That wishing and the crime are one,
And Heaven punishes desires
As much as if the deed were done.
If wishing damns us, you and I
Are damned to all our heart’s content;
Come, then, at least we may enjoy
Some pleasure for our punishment!
A Drinking Song by W.B. Yeats
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
I may have posted this before but feel the urge to post it once again.
the surprise: for the rabbit Zaychik
didn’t expect it
was not prepared
but 4 hours later
was enchanted
no rap
no horror films
the cat stays
lots of fish
a bottle of wine
coffee and cheese cake
and the scooter
there you go
in baseball jargon
a homerun
what a surprise
first time up
at bat
On Yellow-Crane Tower, Farewell to Meng Hao-jan Who’s Leaving for Yang-chou by Li Po
From Yellow-Crane Tower, my old friend leaves the west.
Downstream to Yang-chou, late spring a haze of blossoms,
distant glints of lone sail vanish into emerald-green air:
nothing left but a river flowing on the borders of heaven.
translated by David Hinton
the promise
in the glint
of your eyes
the hint
of a smile
on those full lips
one hand caressing
your hair
the other firmly placed
on a hip
the tilt of your shoulders
almost a shrug
there
here
the promise
of things to come
Leonard Durso 