Ekphrastic Poem

Her eyes follow me

through the gallery window

Her presence is striking

never imposing

her soft, dark features

adorned by orange garb

Her portrait is first

to welcome art admirers

The other children beside her

Smiling, laughing

yet she remains reserved

 wears neither smile nor frown

But her eyes, they testify

She lives! As alive,

as real as you or I

even framed upon the wall

Rework of Unposted

The Lunchroom

No, not there, gum on the seat

not there either, far too crooked

never that one, so badly bent

this one, far too close to that bent one

this the wrong shade of not really

not that one, probably scratched

never anywhere to sit

Lamassu Rework

By order of the mad prophet

Smash! Sledgehammer bashes stone

Soldiers advance on unmoving targets

Bravely facing carved stone in heated battle

Cameras ready to bring news of dark deeds

All contrary meanings and measures

Smashed! Burned, erased

Whether man or works of hands

To demonstrate resolve for war

Until only cycles of blood remain

The camera moves, the music swells

Smash! Another statue falls

Praise Allah! Hammers in the air

The world watches the destruction

of men long dead, now dying again

For the first time since it birth

Lamassu looks up

Sees itself, head lost to body

Forced to watch invaders

Destroy its home once more

You Poem - On the Way to the Tomb (Repurposed Easter Poem)

Will you return to that place

See Him die again in your eyes?

You heard the clang of hammer, spike

The air was thick with cries of pain

You saw that nails that bound Him

to that tree that ripped Him from this world

Will you return to that place?

Can you look upon His grave clothes-

Anoint His body—the Teacher you admired

and see Him die again in your eyes?

Villanelle on Villanelle

A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
Why can't we learn more Shakespeare/Robert Frost?
This torment over I, in writing, mull

Such wretched forms the foolish poets lull
into complacency, then leave them lost
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull

In writing this, I feel my talent fall
Such forms, like Arnold, leave me feeling crossed
This torment over I, in writing, mull

This piece doth set a migraine in my skull
Continuing, much ire I amassed
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull

Perhaps I need espresso, double tall
To get this done, then pay the sleepless cost
This torment over I, in writing, mull

Considering its fate (the brazen bull?)
Anon, complete! This poem shall be tossed
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
This torment over I, in writing, mull


Editor's note: Yes, I am aware that Frost did in fact use the villanelle. However, I was unaware of its existence when first writing this. Besides, I was not about to change the rhyme scheme over such a minor detail.