by Dr. Edward J. Kame`enui
My Hawaiian blood is from Hilo,
the Waipio Valley, and Kamuela
where gobo grows vertical
in soft brown dirt.
Not Lahaina. Continue reading
by Dr. Edward J. Kame`enui
My Hawaiian blood is from Hilo,
the Waipio Valley, and Kamuela
where gobo grows vertical
in soft brown dirt.
Not Lahaina. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Terra Oliveira
four & a half million people
visit the island of O`ahu
per year, watch the red sun
climb down into the Pacific,
escape into paradise, laugh
with the water
as petroleum from Red Hill
leaks under the island, Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by James Ragan
Beneath the drizzling golden hues of sunlight,
a palm is swaying tall, muscular in its song,
smooth as a kumu hula sidestep, grazing the sand,
or a chanter’s muse waving a song
along the fingers to storied heights, each hand
rolling in air to dance one beat into a pair. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Colleen Kam Siu
Hapa is a Hawaiian word
that means part,
but more recently, half.
In 1870, Hapa
meant part-Hawaiian
and part-Chinese laborer;
the latter imported
for their bitter strength, eager
to escape broken promises
in Kwangtung,
not yet knowing
that’s the material
that makes a man
who calls himself Master.
Filed under Poetry
by Anne McCrary Sullivan
Hōkūle’a, teach me how to be on the dark sea
without a chart, clouds obscuring stars.
Teach me how to hold back panic, read the waves.
Teach me to trust the ancestors, who knew more
than I yet know how to know. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry