Friday, May 17, 2013


Before this blog, I wrote a "book length" novel of some of my favorite handwritten poems, typed and compiled into a 167 page document. Since clapbooks (small books, usually containing only 20 poems or less) are the popular way of publishing poems, I never had the incentive to take my hefty volume to a publishing house to be decimated and torn to bits by an editor. Only the hundreds of remnants and scraps of poems I have written remain in school notebooks, next to math equations, between English verbs and amongst scrollwork of flowers and bright-eyed cartoons of owls. They never did make it to the desk of a "real" publisher, and they probably never will.

Here is one of the typed poems I wrote as a teenager.


What wondrous symmetry that made
The open lawn and the sunlit glade
The pool bathed in the silver lance
The touch of starbeam's falling glance
And frosted leaves, cloaked by the cold
That shiver in their snowy world
Or summer laced by autumn's breath
And budding daisies passing kiss
Or lanes in winding, falling rain
That sad and soft, empire refrain!
A melody of wondrous grace
That some good Lord above hath made.

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