Poet's Corner: Sapphics by William Faulkner

Sapphics by William Faulkner

So it is: sleep comes not on my eyelids.
Nor in my eyes, with shaken hair and white
Aloof pale hands, and lips and breasts of iron,
So she beholds me.

And yet though sleep comes not to me, there comes
A vision from the full smooth brow of sleep,
The white Aphrodite moving unbounded
By her own hair.
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My poem: Ode to Friendship: Gen

Title: Ode to Friendship
Rating: Gen
Words: 168
Poetic forms: Sapphic ode/Sapphic stanza



unsung, un-flung, unheralded, yet as bride song
lovely, sweet, sustaining like manna, time slowed,
woven, sewed, embroidered in sylvan ides long,
friendship, a rhymed ode

what of yield of fingers and souls, the fring’d craft
deities which are the escape from truss bared?
what of time not spared? of collecting wing’d draft
meant to be, thence, shared?

burden halved depends on the ear, the un-heard
being heard, the pipes and the timbrels held mute,
listening, silence nourishing trust, the un-word,
promising ripe fruit

let’s dispense with sorrow, embrace the pure joy
sugared sweet when pooled, for a moment; fair fate,
friends true ever, ever increase the boon of envoi,
call to celebrate.

grief like rain will hang ‘til the witchingest hour
make an attic shape ‘til it doesn’t no more
friendship is umbrella and boat in strife’s sour
miserable downpour

sharing happy, happy delight when drawn near,
fortifying brew like a cup of tea, strong
truth and beauty ring for the listening heart, ear
singing a friends’ song

Poet's Corner: Pantoum of the Great Depression by Donald Justice

Pantoum of the Great Depression by Donald Justice

Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.

Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small catastrophes.
I don't remember all the particulars.

We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
I don't remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were our chorus.

There were the usual celebrations, the usual sorrows.
Thank god no one said anything in verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet about it.
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My poem: Morning Pantoum: Gen

Title: Morning Pantoum
Rating: Gen
Length: 172
Poetic form: Pantoum

Wake up. A pinch in the neck, an ache in the back.
Find slippers. What day is it? A sprint or slack?
Shuffle to bathroom. Shuffle to kitchen.
Check the sky. Figure out which bed each kid is in.

Find slippers. What day is it? A sprint or slack?
Unload the dishwasher. Plates and bowls in a stack.
Check the sky. Figure out which bed each kid is in.
Water bottles, lunchboxes, what which in?

Unload the dishwater. Plates and bowls in a stack.
Sandwich, carrots, cookies, fruit. Pack, zip, pack.
Water bottle, lunchboxes, what which in?
Breakfasts, vitamins, shout so they’ll pitch in.

Sandwich, carrots, cookies, fruit, Pack, zip, pack.
Fight about jacket, mess, don’t let them slack.
Breakfast, vitamins, shout so they’ll pitch in.
Socks and shoes, out the door, a life rich in.

Fight about jacket, mess, don’t let them slack.
Wake up, a pinch in the neck, an ache in the back.
Socks and shoes, out the door, a life rich in
routine. Shuffle to bathroom, then kitchen.

Poet's Corner: To Daffodils by Robert Herrick

To Daffodils by Robert Herrick


Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
We die
As your hours do, and dry
Away,
Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.