Poetry Blog by Michael Kwack
Putting Out the Lamp
In the dusk of early evening, one day,
I awakened from a belated nap,
And came to find nobody back home yet,
Only the wall-lamp flickering away.
I, the child, quickly getting quailed,
Started to run away from the dark haunted place,
But soon stopped for looking backward
For some reasons I couldn't quite understand.
Probably it was the ...
Tuesday 15th September 2020 2:36 pm
was it true,
sleep depends on tears?
to refill the well
that had dried up by day,
or to wet the lids, at least,
by dreaming sad dreams,
with that tearful hope,
had the sleep come by night?
Sunday 26th July 2020 10:40 am
A Pilot's Joke
I used to love sand,
For, where there's only sand,
I need not land.
When I accidently had to land,
I did land
On the sand;
For there was no land
Anywhere on that land,
But only sand
All thru that land.
I now more love sand
Of this lonely land;
For, for there's only sand,
No men would come to land.
Saturday 18th July 2020 3:34 pm
What springs up in spring
Will all fall in the next fall;
Summer sums all we have,
Saying we are rich,
Not having to worry where to winter.
Sunday 12th July 2020 1:57 pm
Dominoes are hanging, like 88 wind-chimes, inside a
Record shop window; whereinto an old Irish priest, once a dreamer of becoming
Michelangelo, or Liszt the virtuoso, today called
'Father Manyon,' is peeping; recalling the scented
Solitary pine, on the hillside of his home town; whereunder he used to recite
La Belle Dame sans Merci, often wishing to
See the pale sighing face o...
Thursday 9th July 2020 3:02 pm
Leisurely and alone,
I was wandering in a palace garden.
Flowers were completely gone,
But deep green
Summer leaves were fully grown,
And on each branch
Small birds were all the way chirping:
Seemingly for me a perfect afternoon
To be lost in poem-reciting!
Suddenly a wind arose,
When a human voice came to my ear,
Saying low yet rather vivid:
Thursday 2nd July 2020 5:24 pm
To hang on a wall of my empty room,
I think I will need a picture of rain.
Hitting the ground, and springing up to ankles,
Rain wets the socks and trousers from below.
My eyes chase along
Roof-edges, streets, sidewalks,
--tick, tick, tick--
Checking all, one by one,
To find a dark brolly,
And a woman in black enamel shoes,
Lightly treading the...
Saturday 27th June 2020 7:47 am
The Poor Little Dove
To watch the wind play with the wave,
I sat on a bench by the museum garden pond.
Then a small pigeon came flying,
Landing to her feet, tiny and cute,
And stared up at me, a bit intensely,
Only blinking her eyes, with no other move.
She looked like a baby as a camera model,
Getting me to recall my infanthood picture.
I took s...
Thursday 25th June 2020 11:55 am
Friday 19th June 2020 4:55 pm