MOON AND MOTOR
The glide of moon along my fenders flowing
Is like a motion milking upon light,
So rapt and pallid does it lap and draw
From silver sources crescent with the night.
The earth is pouring off her liquid miles
Whose waterless water is the way I feel
Coursing on the desert, every sense
Collected and yet fluid at the wheel,
While cylinder and floating cylinder
So perfectly receive the plunge of power
That night, and rumors of capricious night,
Time’s own, the frictionless anointed hour
Wait on the motor mystical that drives,
Lean to the fury lovely and repose
That are the piston’s plunder and the sum
Of tranquil labor that an engine knows.
¤
POEM
At least and still at lingering last we can
Console ourselves because this earth is ours,
Though we could never hurl the hurricane,
Nor weld a hill, nor soft unlock the showers,
Nor rivet the diamond under the abyss,
Nor add the desert up, nor crumble the frost
Over the flower’s face. Remembering this
The warm security of pride is lost,
For we are dull mismasters of a huge event
And cannot think who tutored us to fail,
We ruin so quick, and hope is nearly spent;
But faint at intervals, benign and frail
A courage whispers, just this side of fate,
Cling earthward, inward, do not abdicate!
28 July 2005
Top Shelf
-
Everyday view from the kitchen window You read your horoscope and think it can apply to literally anyone in the world. Then you go deeper ...
-
I guess in every story there are three main points of consideration: character, event, and how the former engages with the latter. Various p...
-
Mabining Mandirigma adopts the most superficial element of steampunk, that is Victorian-futurism aesthetic, as seen in the costumes, set de...
-
My elementary life was a period in history I’d rather not go back to and attending the press launch of Annie the Musical at Resorts World Ma...
-
My one and only niece turns eight today and as part of her gift, I wrote her a riddle: An 8-Line Riddle for Your 8th I have no feet, I ha...
-
Sinangag. Longganisa. Tocino. Tapa. Nilagang baka. Kaldereta. Mais. Crab and corn soup. Cup noodles. Kit Kat. Tourist. Tofi Luk. Hello Pand...
-
I was 16 or 17 when I attended my friend, F's bithday party. I forgot if it was her debut. Nevertheless, this is not about her. This ...
-
If you think about it, retellings and adaptations are fanfics written by professional writers. And no two Sherlock fanboys are better at tic...
-
David Guetta takes a pause from his awe-inspiring, albeit mild seizure-inducing, concert to express his love for sports and music: “These ar...
-
My seven-year old niece has just learned to play Truth or Dare, which is a cool way of knowing what goes on in her mind. She's been tau...