Two Bluebirds

I've been rereading Ray Bradbury's (...may he rest in peace...so sayeth we all...) Fahrenheit 451. Actually, I'm listening to it on Audible; there is a performance of it by Tim Robbins which literally makes me weep. It's THAT good. Anyway, as I revisit this all-too-prophetic story of a society so frightened by what is uncomfortable, challenging, or…

To Travel: A Sonnet

I was a stranger here yet better known Away from all I thought myself to be— Away from all routines that made me, me, I found myself in being severed grown. Away from all the people I loved best I found myself in newer company— I found my soul in this older country Away from…

On Departing

My feet pounding the pavement to the beat Of poetry that laid the cobbled street, I feel a shaking sense of bittersweet For a face I only once did meet And wind that sings its fingers through my hair Will not again its subtle secrets share, Nor will the trees and flowers for me bear…

A Poem Passed-By

That moment gone was but a spot of time Yet still I yearn towards its eternity, To find it past yet feel it presently For such moments are best realized in rhyme. But somehow this one fails to really be As full in feeling as it was before; In that one moment, not a second…

A Poem to the Church of St. Edward King and Martyr

The words that lie written beneath our feet, Titles of saints, these graves in graven stones, The echoes of reformers' gracious tones Which once and still all sinners here would meet. And still these words evoke fascination Of both pilgrim and poet's seeking hearts, Quickening with the spirit each their arts, Knowledge grown into Imagination.…

Little Elegy

Walking through Cambridge, inspiration is difficult to avoid. My apologies to those on the sidewalk who had to go around me as I stopped to give this poor bird a proper elegy. "His eye is on the sparrow," so 'tis sung But 'neath some foot or wheel its feathers flung- Poor claws curled up in…

“To Leave” (and a snippet)

Let me premise this by saying that this is not intentionally about death and I am not dying (except to get out of school). Once again, this was inspired by my favorite little running route and the feathered friends who live there. (Speaking of birds, there is a little snippet at the end of this…

Mariners

We are mariners, mariners we, made for the land, parted from sea from that second day and still - striving as on the earth to fill- drawn by its alluring, billowy waves- we drink down the depths to find watery graves. . We hear the call, that age-old call, a whisper first, a breeze enthralls,…