Veteran Poets

  Bright, sunlit banners wave as soldiers march. As Francis Ledwidge, Irishman, parades, The sight and sound of laughter fill the air: “To war!” The drumbeat stirs all hearts to share.   Bold men are damned yet ready for the dare. Brave men, for glory, stepping forth as one as Wilfred Owen’s ‘Artist Rifles’ share;…

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The dancer

The best of dancers ruined by a host Of summer loves that soon to winter fall. So much to see ‘tween winter and the fall. The call to choose and slip the hand from glove To slip away from splendor of that love. Crescendo reached and still she dances on Life is too short to…

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The Mending

My world abandoned, Nature makes amends. A wild confusion grows at my front door. The mutterings of children heard no more. Beneath her gnarled roots a sallow floor.   Vines grab the windows once held curtain’s sway. With ghostly tread, cold silence roves her halls. No more the scent of Jasmine blossom calls. What mystery…

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Ezra Pound Manifesto

The passion’s free without pentameter. The word, more than the sum of all its parts. Oppose the cosmic poet’s well-worn phrase. Descriptive hue; green, sunlit energy. Free, open verse: eternity’s white space. The spirit: forlorn faces in a crowd. Imagine death: ghost-blossoms on a bough. photo by Jacqueline Casey

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The End of Eden

“The End of Eden” Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!” Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way into the apple’s core and out of sight. “Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?” My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.” As Eve complained her stockings had a run, poor…

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“The Gift”

How may I give you my unconditional love? Pent-up, it is difficult. Placed in this small box it presses hard and escapes this tsunami in my soul. The Sodoka (a pair of Katauka) is a single poem which may address the same subject from different perspectives.  It consists of 2 to 3 line Katauka, the syllabic pattern…

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911 Ceremony

Our face denies emotion with our stancethough years of suffered loss bring no relief.Today we view the gas mask with a glanceas firemen-stunned among the Tower’s grief.Our calm defies the hurt within recalledthat day we ran through dust as panic stings.Our hair turns white remembering their fallthat day when ashes flew our feet had wings.

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“The End of Love”

“The End of Love” That end to our emotions mixed with doubt.That chill is in the air and she’s a thief.Her danse macabre comes with September’s routwhen green things turn and wither with relief. When colors drunk with abnormalitycry out; their bloody cost then tossed to ground.Their voices hushed. Dry, crackled brevity.Plain-parted things, their dust cannot be…

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Modigliani Pause

Originally posted on jacquelinecaseypoetry.com:
Painting: Modigliani. So, we must laugh before that day may come; before that twilight leaves us little choice when both will mourn our last day in the sun when colder silence muffles all our voice. Yet greet me now; be kind before the fall. Accept our hours together precious few…

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Originally posted on jacquelinecaseypoetry.com:
“The Meeting” If we should meet another time, my heart when we depart this world and travel far, remember how the looks between us start us to another place among the stars. Our love a pensive gaze; a sparkling shower of light where we embrace the need of each. Like…

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