verse – The Poetry Of J.P.

Calliope

Now rise to life again, sweet poetry!
She is chief among my muses this art.

Let Calliope go and sign her song
Her old wisdom knows not a passive note.

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Socialism is a Sickness

Do not let the wind towers make you sick;
it’s hate and fear that resonates with men
and makes demons of rotors spinning on the wind
there’s no sickness, except men mid-panic,

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Long Live Our Lady

We need the Old Colossus now
with it’s defiant blazing torch
as architype for our goddess

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A Carpenter’s Tools

How many year ago
did the carpenters tools
become useless
to understand the world?

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The Bluebird and the Apocalypse

There is an apocalypse in my chest,
and there is a bluebird beating its wings.

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O’, Do Not Speak of the Soul

Not in leaflets or amid the marching
of nuclear niore to be found,

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Endless Weight

I have gone out into the snow,
braving the winter’s fiery cold,
and searched for rabbit high and low
when frosty mitts refused to hold.

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Dance in the Fire – A Villanelle

Do not let your spirit be leveled flat,
your laughter should rise with the coming sun,
laugh, cry, and dance in the embers of life.

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To The Scientific Minded

We adapt and flex as rubber,
because, for us searchers, wonder
finds answers that aren’t writ in stone,

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To Be Human

To destroy is to be human,
we’d sell the sun to buy a candle;

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Telescope Eyes

Often I think that people are distant
and only look close when viewed from a far;
Each star its own among the crowded streets
and lonely bars; each a beacon that peers

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The Swoosh

The Reaper’s cloak swooshes across the road.
A feeling of doom sweeps over my bones,
I hear the sound of sharpening up in my throat,

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Backlash of Tongues – Poem

The re-inspection
of words, that were his, or his,
is often entombed
in the backlash

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Her Autumn – Poem

When among the trees will autumn come?
What multitude of words will I have lost
among the soft-dying of sweet summer poppies

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Alliteration, Assonance, and Consonance

Alliteration, assonance, and consonance The Raven – Edgar Allen Poe “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tappingContinue reading “Alliteration, Assonance, and Consonance”

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Another side of Poetry

Before beginning the second post on great poetry, I want to take the time to talk a little about myself. About ten years ago, slightly more, I made a conscious derision to stop writing, thinking, or doing anything to do with poetry. This was not because I did not want to write it,