Stay in the loop and register for email updates about events, competitions and all things poetry.
sign me up
Stay in the loop and register for email updates about events, competitions and all things poetry.
Like leaves a storm is furious at,
Men flutter down in fields unfenced;
Yet Truth has a pact with nature that
All Hate is powerless against.
As petals, crumbling to the ground,
Cater to blossoms, mankind knows
The flower of Truth is lost and found
In resurrection of the rose.
From Second Aeon no. 14, 1972
You tread softly
As if the earth is made of snow.
Gesturing broadly to your guest:
“This is where our great memorial will be.”
You lower your gaze;
Your guest follows your lead.
The memory of war pierces you;
Your tears drop like blood.
Pause.
Poetry is rising.
Our graves beneath you:
An inverted heaven.
A sliver of a sunflower
Unfolds to meet the sun.
Children of freedom:
Dip your pens
Deep into our souls;
We have made ink.
Facebook
Twitter