Posts filed under ‘PUBLISHED POEM’
What follows is my first published poem, published by The Shore Publishing Co. in their anthology, Shore Poetry Anthology, in 1973.
THE WANDERER
Hair matted and long
Face overgrown with mustache and beard
He walks down the city streets alone
A broken man,
He stumbles about in the dead of night
With only a ragged coat to keep out the cold
And cheap wine his only refuge.
Perhaps he once dreamt
A dreamer of dreams
And a victim of fate,
For the greatest and lowliest man are of the same stock
Dreamers all,
The only difference being God’s frown
Or smile.
February 24, 2024 at 6:06 pm
This poem was published in Quality American Poetry, 1975-1976, Book III.
The anthology was published by Valley Publications and edited by William Lloyd Griffin.
SUNDAY PARK BENCH
Alone,
Rumpled newspaper in hand
Sits the old man,
Cold morning air sends a chill
Through a heavy overcoat,
Sunday morning light filtering
Through burnished leaves of autumn
Kindling thoughts of Sundays long gone,
Waking next to his wife,
The sound of children filling the house;
Now children grown – wife gone,
Sunday mornings bring only rumpled papers
On a park bench,
February 22, 2024 at 3:32 pm
Clouds was published in 1974. The title of the anthology was, Quality American Poetry Book II. The title of this anthology, quite a stretch. The publisher was Valley Publications edited by William Lloyd Griffin.
CLOUDS
I reach for clouds
High, ever so high do I soar,
Clutching – grasping – then tumbling back.
Clouds are but wisps of vapor,
Phantoms in the sky,
Who can touch a cloud?
I try – fail – then try again;
At times mind joins clouds – soaring,
While I stay behind exposed to the cold – stumbling.
One day mind and soul shall soar skyward
And beyond;
Leaving behind a shell – falling,
Never again to rise,
And reach for a cloud.
February 21, 2024 at 5:25 pm
MY ATTEPT AT WRITING POETRY
I think, in the remote passages of my brain, I have always wanted to be a writer. There was something about holding a pencil and recording ideas and stories I found appealing.
I eventually chose science as a career. But long before I knew science was the path I would follow, I began writing. My first attempt at writing was poetry and had my first poem published while in high school. I wrote a poem for acceptance in a high school poetry anthology. My friends thought it was a good poem, but my English teacher did not. She changed the end of the poem to something I thought ruined it, but it was published.
While in college and beyond I continued and continue to write poetry. I had quite a few poems published by little-known publishers in even lesser-known publications. One publisher published at least one poem of mine in a yearly anthology for fourteen years. While publishing poetry I adhered to a principle I continue to this day. I will never pay to have something I have written published.
I now write science fiction and horror and have for the last twenty-three years, and still, the occasional poem.
What follows will be a series of published poems.
Hope you find some enjoyment in them.
February 20, 2024 at 6:59 pm
I offer this poem, for obvious reasons, when it snows. In the area of Pennsylvania where I live, we have just had our first measurable snow in almost two years. So, it’s time has once again arrived.
This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, The Bells.
THE SNOW
See the delicate snowflakes fall,
Falling, falling, falling.
Whitening the earth, waiting below,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the mounds of glittering white,
Building, building, building.
As they hide the ground from our sight,
Building, building, building.
See the ceaseless falling snow,
Falling, falling, falling.
Will it stop, no one quite knows,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the drifts accumulate,
Building, building, building.
My longing for spring intensely waits,
Building, building, building.
SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,
GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,
CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,
SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
January 16, 2024 at 4:10 pm
I’m sure many of the residents of the northeast are now shouting a four letter word,
S***!
After a mild winter, a storm has arrived making life temporarily miserable.
I always dust off this poem and share it at the appropriate time.
This is the appropriate time.
I wrote this poem some years ago.
Every winter since, I drag it out the right time.
For those of us on the East Coast, now is the right time.
This poem was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s, ‘The Bells’.
THE SNOW
See the delicate snowflakes fall,
Falling, falling, falling.
Whitening the earth, awaiting below,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the mounds of glittering white,
Building, building, building.
As they hide the ground from sight,
Building, building, building.
See the ceaseless falling snow,
Falling, falling, falling.
Will it stop, no one quite knows,
Falling, falling, falling.
See the drifts accumulate,
Building, building, building.
My longing for spring will no longer wait,
Building, building, building.
SEE THE DAMNED WHITE BLANKET GROW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
MY CAR, MY LAWN, ALL I KNOW,
HIDING, HIDING, HIDING.
SEE MY MADNESS, MY URGE TO KILL,
GROWING, GROWING, GROWING,
CROSS MY PATH, AND I’LL DO YOU ILL,
SMILING, SMILING, SMILING.
March 16, 2017 at 5:26 am
I posted my poem, Phantasy, on poetreecreations.org ( they changed the title) and got a pretty good response so I thought I’d repost it for those new to my blog.
Perhaps you might be induced to check some of my other poems.
First published by New Worlds Unlimited in 1981.
PHANTASY
Sickness pervades this cloistered sphere
this world he calls his own.
Mutterings leap with meanings unclear
crying a message unknown.
Shadowy thoughts revoke the day
God gave his hand, then turned away.
Come see the shell that isn’t a man,
muse at this poor wretched fool.
Look to his eyes a moment and then
Depart his mad vestibule.
Here’s a link to the posting by poetreecreations.org.
http://poetreecreations.org/2014/12/01/fantasy-promote-yourself/#comments
December 2, 2014 at 7:11 pm
The literary journal, Still Crazy, has published my poem, Sunday Park Bench, in their July 2014 issue.
They describe their publication as, ‘A literary magazine written by and about people over age 50 but designed to appeal to thoughtful people of all ages’.
If you want to give it a try, here’s a link.
http://www.crazylitmag.com/index.php
July 3, 2014 at 5:30 pm
At the beginning of the year I outlined my goals. One was to publish some of my previously published work.
I’ve been working on getting some of my published poems back out there and just found out one has been accepted by Still Crazy which is both a print and online publication.
I’ll give more details when it appears.
March 19, 2014 at 6:40 pm
Here is a link to the radio interview I had yesterday,
I hope it gives you a chance to learn more about me.
Take care,
Walt
http://www.anovelidealive.com/
January 14, 2013 at 7:55 pm
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