by phillipw | Feb 11, 2020 | CH, DE, MO, ST
The Coach Rides Past The coach rides past where pheasants once were seen But much has changed since then. You died. The limbed Edge by the fields lost leaves and when the green Came back again, the furrowed ground then brimmed With life again, but if the...
by phillipw | Feb 10, 2020 | CH, DE, LO, ST
I Spend my Nights Composing Sonnets for The Dead: Charles Randall Stanfield I spend my nights composing sonnets for The dead. The great majority of these I never knew because they number more Than friends and relatives I try to seize In poetry. I write of Talleyrand...
by phillipw | Jan 25, 2020 | DE
Heedless The gardener doesn’t come. The rose’s long New shoots for next year’s blossoms whip about In gale force winds and being young aren’t strong Enough to bear the storm. The ruthless clout Snaps them, one by one. They were supposed to Be stapled...
by phillipw | Jan 22, 2020 | DE
A Sheen of Strength A sheen of strength more powerful than gold Shines svelte on outer surfaces of glass, A beauty far more powerful and old Than gilding. Spreading out across the grass This April morning is an hour that brings Its joy to beast and plant...
by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | DE, EX, SL
The Refugee Camp, the Deepest Coastline, the Mortuary The mother of the little ones who died Must fall to drowsiness like all the rest Of us. Her bleeding sorrow has not dried Out yet, but sleepiness will have its jest With agony, no matter what. Our eyes Close,...
by phillipw | Jan 8, 2020 | DE, MO
Little Tips of Putrefaction on Some Petals Three leaves fall. The oak seems undiminished In grandeur. Four peonies are dying Back in yellow. Brown acorns have finished Their suicides for life. A hawk, flying His shiver on the sky, is unconcerned With symbol,...
