by phillipw | Feb 11, 2020 | CH, DE, MO, ST
Adieu Tonight you are a voice that calls to me Across the waters from a liner bound For shores beyond an endless, waveless sea. The coastlines have no harbours ever found By living voyagers and so we do Not know the colours of the beaches or Their...
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 | Feb 6, 2020 | CH, LO, RO, ST
Recovery Road Forget the sense of melting when your chest Felt waterfalls of wonder from your soul, When tides came as a wave, a glistening crest Which washed your heart and left it kneeling, whole. Leave memories of warmth behind, the shape Which made...
by phillipw | Feb 5, 2020 | ST
A Nutritionless Meal Loud microphoning of a shouting rant Made up of commonplaces is supposed To lodge inside us by repeated cant. The same old things again, again are posed By big black speakers yelling louder than The man himself–though he is bad...
by phillipw | Jan 26, 2020 | LO, ST
Limitless Response Death garners blankness, stores the space between The asteroids. Notwithstanding, Love breathes In all spaces, even those which green Has never dwelt in. Love inhales the wreaths Of galaxies and closer groupings of These glittering, fiery...
