Blogs about: Tims Poems
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Easter Drinking Songs
EASTER DRINKING SONGS: to be sung in an upper room by candlelight, before the police come. 1. Song for all Dark is the room and dark is the wine and the dark is fine when it whimpers in the cup: … more →
Taliesan
Easter Drinking Songs
Tim wrote 4 months ago: EASTER DRINKING SONGS: to be sung in an upper room by candlelight, before the police come. 1. Song … more →
Inner Voice
Tim wrote 8 months ago: Every son ends up alone with an inner voice which is the echo of his father’s love of virtue. … more →
My Time
— 2 comments
Tim wrote 9 months ago: A corpse in the road to Judah. A seated lion and a yawning ass. The locusts chant one systole a mi … more →
Haiku 4
Tim wrote 10 months ago: It is time, time and deprivation form the judge. But alelluia is the desert’s song, Merton sai … more →
Haiku 3: thaw
Tim wrote 10 months ago: Drip, drip: beneath the warming snow the vole forgets the hawk. … more →
Haiku 2: winter
Tim wrote 10 months ago: Icicles climb down toward the porch from the blue dawn. Driving snow. The hawk turns his red tail to … more →
Haiku 1: Autumn
Tim wrote 1 year ago: A great wind bent the yellowed corn. It’s still bent. … more →
The Blackbirds of April
Tim wrote 1 year ago: From every post and stalk the blackbirds flash their epaulets and play commander, play inspector of … more →
Sonnet: Wind
Tim wrote 3 years ago: November wind I called a poltergeist until today. Please stay. Your breath has blown my cover an … more →
Compassion Visits In The Night
Tim wrote 3 years ago: Are you weary yet? I am. Then rest. I don’t know how to rest. Just die. I don’t know how … more →
Moonseed, Ampelopsis, Possumgrape
Tim wrote 4 years ago: 1. The sun withdraws its tide of liquid gold along the goldenrod, the sumac fronds by now November r … more →
Spring Hill Cemetary (poem, revised)
Tim wrote 2 years ago: Spring Hill Cemetary is on a hill overlooking my old home town of Huntington, WV. In the center is t … more →
Auld Lang Syne
— 1 comment
Tim wrote 2 years ago: Traditional lyric adapted for my siblings We six have run about the hills and pulled the daisies … more →
Bluebird (for Barbara)
Tim wrote 2 years ago: You hate to give or get a hollow gift? Well, hollow gifts are gifts bereft of flesh and imprecise. … more →
Simple.
Tim wrote 3 years ago: Not many things are needful: silence of peaches, blue stoneware; silence of sunbeams across the sisa … more →
Properties
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Tim wrote 3 years ago: It is the property of angels not to fall, he said. It is the property of men to fall and rise. The d … more →
God Has No Use For Us
Tim wrote 3 years ago: I wrote a little poem today, my friend says “what’s it play?” Just wind it up, I s … more →
Brendan the Navigator
Tim wrote 3 years ago: This land is leprous with the huts of men. Their radishes are crisp and strong, But, now, the soil i … more →
