Originally posted on John Wreford Photographer:
Standing in the cold lifeless air of Westminster Abbey, surrounded by marble morbidity, the good and great and privileged interred at every turn, monarchs at the head of the table and poets consigned to a dim corner, and there, amid the flag stones of the nave lie the mortal…
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Self Singing
Whitman had a lot of songs,long and rambling, so many notesventuring all over the melodic rangefrom the highest octaves to thelowest reaches of the bass clef If he was written out on a staff,codified into halves, wholes, and sixteenths,he would be a tangle to rival Brahms,with a reach beyond Rachmaninoff or Liszt You wouldn’t wantContinue reading “Self Singing”
Woman by Amy Jasek
This body is a conduit? between the earth and sky she sings to the moon pulls heaven down to wear across her shoulders This body is a shadow? of glory, a powerhouse of creation, sealed with the Divine she soars through her cycles cries out wrenching new beginnings from the canyon of existence She vibrates…
Taking Sides
the Joyful Conqueror arm wrestlesthe Sorrowful Scared Cynicwho’s used to losing Wild Dreamer kicksthe Careful Rule Followerin the shins under the tableso Sh*t-stirrer starts up,knocking over a chairinto Peacemaker, who spillsher drink onto the stifledRealist’s crisp white shirt the Diplomat steps forwardbut procrastinates for an instantand gets shoved out ofthe way by the Bitter GossipContinue reading “Taking Sides”
Notice — Pact
Reposting from my daughter’s blog! The writer’s journey continues. . . . So I’m back, and as you may have noticed I did NOT overhaul the website like I said I would over the holidays. Instead, I decided “hey, wouldn’t it be a great idea if I rewrote the entire thing in a completely differentContinue reading “Notice — Pact”
Scrutiny, 1
Floating in my cup of tea:
the bric-a-brac chunk leftovers
from the small scoop of flavorful dust
I stirred in, along with honey. . . .
A Pair of Italian Sonnets
Pristine Sistine: at the Vatican I walked and walked through halls of wondertil at last I reached the endwhere God’s own voice resounds like thunderfrom images well known as friends In awe beneath that gorgeous ceilingsequestered as a holy choiceoverwhelmed with thoughts and feelingsbrought back to earth by recorded noise Quiet! and No pictures, please!LoudlyContinue reading “A Pair of Italian Sonnets”
Prologue – Dominic
Originally posted on The Hermit Crab Tank:
Three people stood under the weak light of a streetlamp. The first was a tall young man who stood in a shabby black overcoat with a back straight as a rod. His short, dark hair was combed across his forehead, and each of the features on his long…
Ode, to Coffee
Oh hallowed nectar, rich and capped in white!
Strongest cup of daily refuge. . . .
Wildflowers
With sunshine and graceyou present your joyful faceto brighten this place Nourished by autumnthe seeds wait in secret hopefor the coming spring In storm the showersof restorative powers:the earth re-flowers And bees run the racea buzz of furious pacethrough the garden space So much more than commonplacefar too wild to be encased in a vaseLeaveContinue reading “Wildflowers”
The Poetry Patio 