by phillipw | Jul 31, 2019 | IN
Awkward Repeatedly I’ve seen you do a dance, A little travesty of happiness. It is a dance but doesn’t give a chance To sentiment or Hallmark sappiness. Those steps are more a mockery and brief. They really only say, “Don’t look at...
by phillipw | Jul 31, 2019 | LO
Who Teaches Us What Love Is? Who teaches us what love is, what it means? Who? No one. Many try, but none of them Succeeds. Some say it’s like quick benzedrines Without inhalers needed. Bethlehem Is touted as another meaning of This principle or...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | SN
WARNING: Some readers might find this sonnet offensive. If you are easily offended, do not read it. Outpouring He picks his nose and eats the bogie raw. It seems impossible a scholar with So much beauty as to fire up awe, With so much handsome loveliness...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | LO
This luster glimmers on him in his sleep This luster glimmers on him in his sleep. A glowing from him when he lies at rest Lights bed and bedroom. Like torch flame deep Within a Delphic cave, a burn he blessed With breathing from the psyche of calm lungs, A...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | LO
Release I open up an envelope and time Unfolds. We think the past is closed to us But then a simple gesture sounds a chime Which swings the lost gates wide. That Pegasus Called memory goes winging up. Pale wings Embrace the air impossibly. ...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | LO
X-change of Gifts And what about the cards and poems, quotes, The flowers he sent to me? They don’t exist. I packaged all of them, his little notes, His trinkets that I’d kept like treasured cysts In my aorta, tiny souvenirs He’d handmade, made from...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | LO, SO
A Failure by Two Men Sharing the Writing, Back and Forth, of a Sonnet Sequence A sonnet sequence is by nature one- Sided, so far as history is concerned. So maybe it will be extremely un- Expected if I say why this one’s turned Out boringly to fit that mold. ...
by phillipw | Jul 30, 2019 | LO
Day and Night When you were dead to me, the living turned To ghosts, became a bunch of gibbering sounds And movements day by day. The living churned Around me on the streets and on my rounds Of work and food, and even through my bed. But they were just pollution in...
