“rule them with a rod of iron”

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

FIRST WITCH    Where the place?
SECOND WITCH   Upon the heath.

The mistiness that many readers think

That poets and their mountains should uphold,

Romantic to the nth degree, is pink,

Too pink to swallow.  Poets must be bold,

Not dreamy bastards.  Tragedy is what

They aim for, nightmares and not valentines

Of rose and red.  They reach to find the hot

In life.  They do not want the heart, but spines

Hard broken by the truth, not haar-filled marsh,

But focused facts, unstinting in their weight,

Unbearable like Holocausts, so harsh

That poetry is hard as Jesus’ hate.

  The floweret in the crannied wall speaks Hells

    Or nothing.  Lines must be like witches’ spells.

~ Phillip Whidden