The above photographs were taken and submitted by New York City poet Joe Tessitore. We invite readers to pick one of the images (or both) and write a poem. Post your poem in the comments section below.
. The Noble Train of Artillery ---from Legends of Liberty Volume 3 The cold, gray dawn illuminated flakes Of snow...
. Written in a Cubicle What spurs me, in this breathing grave of coffee mouths and cheeks unshaved, to stand...
A compelling narrative, which describes very well Man's (or a man's) response to the forces of nature; the final resolution…
Both well-wrought. It strikes me that of late many of your poems are very philosophical musings on the ageing process.
Hi James, thanks for picking up on the GKC reference. Just as I consider WB Yeats the greatest English language…
Thank you, Paul for your observation and kind comments.
This is a powerful poem with images of a flood that stick in the mind. There is peace and resolve…
Dear,
i guess it is not mentioned how to send the poem for you, i appreciate that you guide me on this matter.
look forward to hearing from you.
sincerely,
MONARCHS
~ after G. M. Hopkins
The first one floated
onto my pointed finger,
flexing its orange and black
wings, relaxing to linger,
as if I were a strange
butterfly bush in shape
for it to rest on in its range
of flight, to let me gape.
And then another came,
followed by a dozen more
alighting, as if my odd frame
flamed warmly from each pore,
until my head bore a crown
of moving color, on each arm
front and back, up and down,
they landed, showing no alarm.
But then the still air shocked
with cold, and we all froze
in place, our limbs were locked
and we assumed a pose
of sleep, and never to awake,
a million lost and silent things
nothing would inspire to make
us rise with ah, bright wings.