Featured Topic: Dreams
Featured Product: Seasons
Featured Writer: poets better and more famous than me
Featured Form: Rondel
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Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae by Ernest Dowson
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: I have been faithful to thee,...
Transported by Ferry
"This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, ... Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow from Evangeline These men...
Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie (Excerpt) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Prelude. THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms....
Roll On Columbia: a sonnet for our tenth anniversary
The bargain wine and complimented treats were finished hours ago: the hotel's gift for our tenth anniversary. Now, as we shift our bodies beneath borrowed cotton sheets, could there be a better time to rehearse the old arguments, those familiar friends? Our fingers...
Does God still have a body?
Does God still have a body? Buried though he was? And risen now as from a seed with root and stem. Then branches, varied, grow up like cedars towering above those reeds that fringe the Styx where souls are ferried slow to find new bodies. It's said they'll never bleed...
For Michael on His Thirtieth Birthday: a Limerick
What can you say when your friend's turning thirty? I search for a word that is noble and worthy. That didn't quite fit. You're all thinking it: The best rhyme has always been, "dirty."
Panda Loose in My Brain: a sound experiment in multi-syllabic rhymes
Allow me to introduce and explain this rhyme where much blander uses remain. You must under- stand this muse is insane; someone has set a panda loose in my brain ordering snacks and a juice on the plane above a lake and a spruce in the rain. The new king will command...
Spider Dream: a Limerick
I saw a spider fall into my bed right onto the pillow beside my head. Now I'm hunting him, like preachers hunt sin, and dare not sleep till he or I is dead.
Thou Hast Made Me, and Shall Thy Work Decay? by John Donne
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror,...
To the Grasshopper and the Cricket by Leigh Hunt
Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; And you, warm little housekeeper, who class With those who think the candles come too...
Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening...
Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on,...
All This Juice and All This Joy
Alive and heavy with health, syrup swells the root, and sun-dappled fields are filled with walking flowers: the blossoms of the body and the promise of fruit. We know, and delight, and dream away the hours; let us have sweet Summer's cream ...
At Torrey Pines
A cruel salt wind molests the twisted pine who grovels on his gnarled knees for rain; his futile prayers won't mend his broken spine nor will he stand, as in his dreams, again. The cliffs themselves all crumble in the sea and the tumble-down rocks resent the mocking...
On Killing a Cat While Driving Home
He'd sprinted blind into the open road and she didn't have time to steer away. I told myself of mercy, something owed, when I drove the second car to hit the stray. I had aimed for the neck to make it quick yet still felt all the worse for paying it. The mirror saw...