Sunday #Poetry: Snow Man

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Snow Man” Wallace Stevens ONE must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of…

Sunday #Poetry: Ring Out, Wild Bells

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Ring Out, Wild Bells” Alfred Lord Tennyson RING out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy…

Sunday #Poetry: Christmas Bells

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Christmas Bells” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled…

Sunday #Poetry: The Holly King

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “THE Holly King” Anonymous The holly and the ivy, when they were both full grown, Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown. I AM the Holly King, Lord of the Waning Year. You may know me as the Green…

Sunday #Poetry: A December Day

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “A December Day” Robert Fuller Murray THAT’S no December sky! Surely ’tis June Holds now her state on high Queen of the noon. Only the tree-tops bare Crowning the hill, Clear-cut in perfect air, Warn us that still Winter, the aged chief, Mighty in power, Exiles…

Sunday #Poetry: I Heard A Bird Sing

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “I Heard A Bird Sing” Oliver Herford I heard a bird sing In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember. ‘We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,’ I heard a bird sing In the dark of December.

Sunday #Poetry: The Vampire’s Gift

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “The Vampire’s Gift” Jody Azzouni I expected bats, fangs, the usual openmouthed coffin. Instead he woos me with poetry of a sort: “Dreams are baggy shadows bursting their skins each dawn and colorsplashing the mornings” Why I fall for this, I don’t know, But we do…

Sunday #Poetry: Blame Her Not

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Blame Her Not” John W. May CAN I cast blame for what she eats, Or that she strolls where sunlight sleeps; Or blame her that her skin is pale, Whose lips are glist’ning red as ale? Am I to cast accusing stares And judge her not…

Sunday #Poetry: Wraith

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Wraith” Edna St. Vincent Millay “THIN Rain, whom are you haunting, That you haunt my door?” -Surely it is not I she’s wanting; Someone living here before- “Nobody’s in the house but me: You may come in if you like and see.” Thin as thread, with…

Sunday #Poetry: Ghost in the Land of Skeletons

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Ghost in the Land of Skeletons” Christopher Kennedy If not for flesh’s pretty paint, we’re just a bunch of skeletons, working hard to deny the fact of bones. Teeth remind me that we die. That’s why I never smile, except when looking at a picture of…

Sunday #Poetry: Three Witches, from Macbeth

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux Three Witches – Macbeth ~ William Shakespeare A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.                 Enter the three Witches. 1 WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.        2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the…

Sunday #Poetry: Smoke

“Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.” ~Joseph Roux “Smoke” ~ Erica Jong Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. For centuries, the air was full of witches Whistling up chimneys on their spiky brooms cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe, as they flew over rooftops blessing & cursing their kind….