Bluegrass Reverie in the Spirit of the Ages

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

I want the hurricane to quit its hate

And turn to Caribbean breeze in palm

And orchid blooms.  I dream a winter’s skate

On ice to carve a figure made of calm.

I wish the Mississippi lost among

The live oak trees with Spanish moss to drown

Out deserts, sing the spirituals unsung,

Then love to be an angel verb, not noun.

I need all midnights turned to shooting stars

And moons unpoxed.  I hold my heart to find

Its gold and diamond flower refusing scars.

I siege the sun to strike screamed evil blind.

We want the worm of death to die beneath

Spring apple trees above as bridal wreath.

~ Phillip Whidden