Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

George Drew: The Poem about the Beatles (with video)

This is the poem about the Beatles that
I never wrote, and now there are more
yesterdays than tomorrows

September 16, 2021 · Leave a comment

Josephine Dickinson: Birchen Twigs Break No Ribs

These birches were growing and sinking into their own soil
around the time of the building of Jericho

September 15, 2021 · 1 Comment

Jefferson Carter: Cat & Transient

I swore I’d stop writing about liberal guilt
& about cats too, but I must confess
last night, I groomed our little black cat
with my tongue

September 14, 2021 · 1 Comment

Dawn Potter: Heat Wave

a squirrel is hurling insults, and beneath his screeches the cicadas
insist and sigh, insist and sigh, unmoved by his grandiloquent snit.

September 13, 2021 · 6 Comments

Rachel Hadas: What do the classics teach us about hope?

How do we weather this welter of bad news? How do we adapt?

September 12, 2021 · 3 Comments

Majid Naficy: Kabul

But larks have not forgotten to fly
And grass still sprouts from the earth of Kabul
And rivers are replenished by the snows of Pamirs
And the groves of Samangan are filled with sounds of birds.

September 11, 2021 · 6 Comments

William Blake: The Fly

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

September 10, 2021 · 5 Comments

Wislawa Szymborska: Utopia

If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.

September 10, 2021 · 8 Comments

Edison Jennings: The Klansman

An uncle of mine was in the Klan,
but I was never told his name
because the Klan was trashy

September 9, 2021 · 4 Comments

Lindsey Royce: Purification And All That Fuckery

My hovel, my mess—surfaces like baseball mounds, my pubic mound—books papers piled, my checkbook math, an epic fail—cleanliness, godliness—washing the carpet, the body—a good Catholic girl I was scared of … Continue reading

September 8, 2021 · Leave a comment

Christopher Bursk: The Plague in Early Spring

The first week in the first year of the plague,
when we told ourselves there was no plague,
the flowers were more than willing
to confirm our opinion.

September 7, 2021 · 2 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Complaint About Missing Friends after Ten Months of the Pandemic

Verlaine threw pail after pail after
cold water pail on the gravel under Rimbaud’s
windows, to cool the air as he slept.

September 6, 2021 · 2 Comments

Video: Astronaut Leland Melvin Reads Pablo Neruda’s Love Letter to Earth’s Forests

Anyone who hasn’t been in the Chilean forest doesn’t know this planet. I have come out of that landscape, that mud, that silence, to roam, to go singing through the world.

September 5, 2021 · 3 Comments

Michael Simms: Writing Prompt #7 | Jumping into the Mud

Here’s an exercise which I call Jumping into the Mud although it’s sometimes called by the more prosaic name automatic writing. The exercise helps to loosen my imagination, and sometimes a decent poem results as well.

September 4, 2021 · 13 Comments

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