All Poems
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That's What I Said
© April Bernard
It pricks the arms like poison,
knowing that some things, once chosen,
are yours and that meanwhile the night comes
much too soon this time of year.
Wise People
© Margaret Widdemer
I THINK that we are very strong and wise,
Mocking at love and at the grief thereafter, . . .
For sometimes I forget him in your eyes
And sometimes you forget her in my laughter.
Coffee & Dolls
© April Bernard
It was a storefront for a small-time numbers runner,
pretending to be some sort of grocery. Coffeemakers
and Bustello cans populated the shelves, sparsely.
Who was fooled. The boxes bleached in the sun,
Society
© George Meredith
Historic be the survey of our kind,
And how their brave Society took shape.
Womanhood
© Catherine Anderson
She slides over
the hot upholstery
of her mother's car,
this schoolgirl of fifteen
Name of a Tree
© Catherine Anderson
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine.
This morning, we look through her kitchen window,
the one she can't get clean, cobwebs massed
between sash and pane. The sky is blue-gold, almost
Before Sleep
© Catherine Anderson
I was in love with anatomy
the symmetry of my body
poised for flight,
the heights it would take
Truth?
© Gerald England
There are 16 million shades of grey
There is no black
There is no white
You have to draw your own line
Romance
© William Ernest Henley
'Talk of pluck!' pursued the Sailor,
Set at euchre on his elbow,
'I was on the wharf at Charleston,
Just ashore from off the runner.
The Last Time Ever
© Gerald England
1 am peering through blackness
2 am i feel your heart pounding
3 am your fingers running up my spine
4 am my beard between your breasts
A Sick Soul
© John Newton
Physician of my sin-sick soul,
To thee I bring my case;
My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.
October Forecast
© Gerald England
"Bright with sunny periods
some cloud, occasional showers"
says the local TV forecast.
Thick Orchards, All in White
© Jean Ingelow
Thick orchards, all in white,
Stand 'neath blue voids of light,
And birds among the branches blithely sing,
For they have all they know;
There is no more, but so,
All perfectness of living, fair delight of spring.
Englands Openers
© Gerald England
Bare midrifs above belt-like skirts
Bedraggled daffodils line the lanes
Belladonna is unlucky
Beyond the wooded embankment home
Big Irma
Fairy Song
© Thomas Randolph
We the fairies blithe and antic,
Of Dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us,
Astropoetry On The Peak
© Gerald England
cocooned in thermal underwear
thick overcoat, scarf and woolly hat
to withstand the biting mountain air
Mid-december
© Gerald England
A full moon shines
over the morning frost;
the lanes are full of late-fallen leaves;
walking across the mulch
is almost as tricky
as treading over ice.
Sonnet XII. The Ocean Steamer.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WITH streaming pennons, scorning sail and oar,
With steady tramp and swift revolving wheel,
And even pulse from throbbing heart of steel,
She plies her arrowy course from shore to shore.
Reply to Some Verses of J.M.B. Pigot, Esq.
© Lord Byron
Why, Pigot, complain of this damsel's disdain,
Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try, yet, believe me, a sigh
Will never obtain a coquette.
