Featured Poem 11/4 – “The Darkling Thrush”
The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like...
Write Gooder, not Better
The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like...
Identity Crisis by F. D. Reeve He was urged to prepare for success: “You never can tell, he was told over and over; “others have made it; one dare not presume to predict....
If by Rudyard Kipling If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But...
Fishing in Winter by Ralph Burns A man staring at a small lake sees His father cast light line out over The willows. He’s forgotten his Father has been dead for two years...
Sonogram by Jennifer Chang Dark matter, are you sparkless for lack of knowing better? The room you’ve spun is distant and indivisible— a flickering lapsarian, you satisfy no mute progress but collapse, spiral,...
Geese by Michael Shorb Just north of Valley Falls rust mustard hue of fading autumn chills the marsh last storm of Canadian geese stuns the flyway imprinted engines of feathers and cries. I wonder...
Autumn Movement by Carl Sandburg I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother...
Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined...
Ceriserie by Joshua Clover Music: Sexual misery is wearing you out. Music: Known as the Philosopher’s Stair for the world-weariness which climbing it inspires. One gets nowhere with it. Paris: St-Sulpice in shrouds. Paris:...
Moonrise by H. D. Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear-head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song, On the bank we share our arrows—...