• Grey Facebook Icon
  • Grey Twitter Icon
  • Grey Google+ Icon

December 21, 2019

Although known as a unique poetic form with roots in Arabia, the ghazal’s history suggests it is also a cultural phenomenon with an international and wide-ranging influence on cultures and languages, even religions, quite surprising for what is, after all, a form of po...

December 14, 2019

Full-blossoming moon! Here in thy light
Like flowing gold the ocean gleams;
As limpid as day, yet dimly bewitched,
Reposing across the expanse of the strand;
And in the bright blue, starless heavens
Hover the clouds of white,
Like colossal god-tableaus
Of luminous marb...

December 7, 2019

Fall rain, fall upon this old world,

And wake deep inside me the dreams

That I dreamt when I was a child,

When rain would wet the golden sand.

When the sultry summer breezes

Frolicked through the evening coolness

And the morning’s dewy leaves thawed,

When the crops shone a da...

December 2, 2019

When Horae’s icy sheets blanket the dale
And branches shed their frozen tears,
When Earth is covered with her icy veil,
We mortals run from Time’s cold sneers.

Yet let us not run from such cold deceived
As our tears turn to wintry pearls;

Let winter's denizens weather ea...

November 25, 2019

On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with ho...

November 18, 2019

If you see an ant go marching

In his regimented pack,

Brittle, beady body arching

With that leaf upon his back,

Let him be, don’t dare beleaguer

Him for what he didn’t do;

Life is sweet and even meager

Creatures know it to be true. 

If you see a bee go lugging

From the hive to...

November 10, 2019

... Among the shadows of the groaning elms,           

amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves ...

... Once there were paths that led to coracles

that clung to piers like loosening barnacles ...

... where we cannot retur...

November 4, 2019

November sings in minor chords,
in broken light, in maimèd rites,
and brings her own ghost rewards
to forgotten and forgetful men alike,
to poor souls lashed to masts in storms,
to all who, lashed by moonless nights
(moonless nights that see no end),
can find no harbou...

Please reload

Connect on Facebook
  • Grey Facebook Icon
Please reload