Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Ghazal: To Shiva

And as I begin, I bow to Shiva.
May these lines soar, even now, to Shiva.

In darkness, delusion, despair or death,
look, through the light in your brow, to Shiva.

A mountain falling in love with the sky:
Parvati making her vow to Shiva.

Thou male-female, creator-destroyer,
single-duality: Thou Two, Shiva.

I could, like Ganesha, travel the world,
or cut to the chase, and bow to Shiva.

D.I.Y.—Destroy It Yourself, a book
not for dummies, titled: How To Shiva.

Om Namah Shivaya, I bow and sing,
my soul a transcendent shout to Shiva.

The end of life, the end of creation,
we will all return, somehow, to Shiva.

Tandava dancing, this music, this poem—
this life, an offering now, to Shiva.

Thursday, January 11, 2018

A Whole Sonnet in Two Halves

A hole is nothing but humility,
existence that can only be defined
by absence, and though anything the mind
can conjure it contains, to the degree
it does so it can only leave behind
its full potential emptiness, but when
all else is gone, then it exists again.

A whole is more than the sum of its parts,
it was nothing before the space was there
to hold it, empty, clear expanses where
ideas take form and inspiration starts
to draw to itself that which it would bear,
and that which, being born, will always hold,
behind itself, the presence of its mold.

Saturday, April 30, 2016


Who are you? What is your name?
What are you like? Perhaps we’re the same.

Do you roar like a lion when bedtime’s too soon?
Do you howl like a wolf when you see the full moon?
Are you wise like an owl? Quick like a cat?
Can you find your way through the dark night like a bat?
Do you slouch like a sloth when you’re just feeling tired?
Do you buzz like a hummingbird when you get wired?
Are you strong like a rhino? Fierce like a bear?
Can you climb a tall tree like a squirrel on a dare?
Do you swallow your lunch all at once like a snake?
Or in bits, like ants taking crumbs from a cake?
Can you run like a cheetah? Hop like a bunny?
Do you laugh like a loon when you hear something funny?
Are you graceful and elegant, poised like a swan?
Do you sing with the birds serenading the dawn?
Can you swim like a whale? Swing like an ape?
Can you fly like a hawk in your superman cape?

Well, judging by all of the answers you’ve stated,
I just have to say that—I think we’re related!

Friday, April 29, 2016

The Otters

There’s an otter in the water
and this otter’s got a daughter
who is on the teeter-totter
but at least she’s got a spotter,
’cause her babysitter otter’s
gonna stop her if she totters.

But the spotter spots another otter
spitting in the water,
so the spotter calls an otter copper,
tattling on the naughty otter.
(It’s the otter copper’s job
to stop the snotty naughty otters.)

So the copper stops the naughty otter
spitting in the water,
but the naughty little otter
is an underwater plotter.

This naughty otter spitter
gets around the babysitter,
and this rotter underwater
makes the daughter otter totter,
toppling down into the water
from her otter teeter-totter.

The haughty father otter
faults the baby-otter sitter,
but the floating daughter otter,
doting on her babysitter,
fits the fault upon the naughty plotting
snotty otter spitter,
so the otter copper jots it
in the naughty otter blotter.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

The Owl

As the night falls, I rise.
I lift into the lowering skies,
And welcome the dark to fill my eyes.

Ablaze in flight,
I know the secret of the night:
That we are never wholly without light.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

The Frog

Back in my youth, I was so insecure,
suspicious of my body, all the changes
that threatened to upend the life I knew.
A little life it was, though, to be sure—
so limited, unaware what new range,
what scope my life would gain then, as I grew.

And what a life! How little did I know
what joy there is in hopping, what delight
in the taste of flies! Indeed, in all respects,
this life so excels the old that now I glow
with anticipation, waiting, breathless, eyes alight,
wondering what will happen next.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

The Tadpole

I don’t think I’m a fish,
but I don’t belong on land
I swim all that I wish,
but I’d rather like to stand.

I’ve got this fancy tail,
though it’s shrinking day by day.
The air I can’t inhale,
’cause my gills get in the way.

These funny little stumps
might turn into legs, I guess.
But I could never jump
with my limbs in such a mess.

Oh, life is complicated
as an awkward polliwog.
I’ll become what God dictated,
but I sure hope it’s a frog!