by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | DE, GR, MO
Another World Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem One world we know about remains unknown. It may be turgid blackness or it could Be wide with spilling light. Perhaps just bone With empty marrow...
by phillipw | May 12, 2020 | BI, KI, MO, MU
What Understanding Does: a Pair of Sonnets Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem “Son of man, can these bones live?” ~ Ezekiel 37:3 When faith is in retreat, then scripture reads More beautifully,...
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...
