by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | PO
Prophetic Temptation Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem If only poets could entice the world, If only. Maybe they would cause the rain To fall in wadis. Mysteries unfurled By stanzas could obliterate...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | DA, Ho, OP, SP, Uncategorized
Benison Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem The first of our own daffodils spread out Today and maybe that bright yellow will Reach wider since the sun is now about And shining on the...
by phillipw | May 11, 2020 | CH, FR, LO, MA, ST
Extremes with Charles “Time stutters in your arms. It expands, diaphragm pushing down and out to make room for seconds smoothing into hours.” ~ Jaime Mathis, “Blood Blister,” It Rises and Falls I now invite you each to call up in Your mind the most important...
by phillipw | May 11, 2020 | AB, JA, PO
From the Enlightenment to Gazing at a Dark-haired Navel...
by phillipw | May 11, 2020 | BR, VI
Reading about the Red-haired Priest in the British Library The lamplight’s fall across each chord-like tress, The phrase-like forehead and the eyebrows (straight) Perhaps are not that different from the stress, Though gentle, from the candle light in late Night...
by phillipw | May 11, 2020 | CO, SU
Memory A farm’s green pond is still. There is no air; The trees, in harder green, are moveless, too. The morning’s laundered clouds lie on the bare Wet skin of water where a white canoe Which brothers left looks green in brighter dawn. A little...
by phillipw | May 11, 2020 | PE, ST
Holiness Deep as a Bollywood musical score But only as broad as a hopscotch grid, Pete’s mind prepared him for nothing much more Than beating his wife and hitting his kid. Then he met Jesus one night in a tent Where people got sweaty and spoke in...
by phillipw | May 10, 2020 | FR, GA, LO, MA, RO
Screens and Boundaries If trees sprout cinnabar and seas are gold, If lotus blossoms grow in gold and blue, If cranes strike poses by shrill suns as bold In red as rubies boiled in taboo, If cats strut round behind a smaller screen Of deeper crimson, older gold...
