Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 15,000 daily subscribers. Over 6,000 archived posts.

Video: Wooden Wheel | A Filmmaker’s Tender Tribute to Her Seafaring Father

Grounded by a sailing injury, Arthur still finds solace in the Irish Sea.

January 17, 2023 · 3 Comments

Doug Anderson: Ghost

The old man finally just went away
to live in the mountains. Two goats,
a dog for company. The wind
made a harp of the pines.

January 12, 2023 · 11 Comments

Michael Gregory: Third Day of Christmas | Earth Air Wood Water Fire

Too many missing from this year’s mailing list.
Looking back I’m humbled to remember
how many stupid things I’ve done and survived

January 3, 2023 · 2 Comments

Anonymous: I Get By With a Little Help From Depends

Some of the artists of the ’60s are revising their hits with new lyrics to accommodate aging baby boomers.

December 31, 2022 · 4 Comments

Dennis Patrick Slattery: Aging in Body, Eldering in Spirit

Our culture is hungry for voices of elders to share their wisdom with us, to counter the fierce energy of adolescent flames that insists on “my” and “me” to the exclusion of “us” and “we.”

December 18, 2022 · 7 Comments

Neil Shepard: Local Freeze

Flat lines of black clouds 
rolled over the Everglades, pelting the land with cold rain, 
then, briefly, almost impossibly, hail, over the wetlands and dredged 
fields, reminding us how fragile the grapefruits and oranges.

November 15, 2022 · 5 Comments

Barbara Hamby: The Tawdry Masks of Women

and when I see myself
in bus windows or store glass, the shock never wears off,
for I recognize myself and see a stranger at the same time

October 10, 2022 · 6 Comments

Michael Simms: Portrait of Unknown Couple

He sketched in charcoal
the arch of a shoulder
the movement of a hand
the woman’s head
turned and tilted slightly
toward the man

September 24, 2022 · 10 Comments

Robert Frost: Provide, Provide

The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag
Was once the beauty Abishag,
The picture pride of Hollywood.

September 23, 2022 · 2 Comments

Louise Hawes: My muse at seventy-something

My muse is fast; her legs, long, relentless,
churn like propellers. She seldom stops to
explain where we’re going.

September 17, 2022 · 14 Comments

Barbara Hamby: Letter to a Lost Friend

There must be a Russian word to describe what has happened
between us, like ostyt, which can be used
for a cup of  tea that is too hot, but after you walk to the next room,
and return, it is too cool

September 12, 2022 · 2 Comments

Paul Christensen: The First Chill Air of Summer’s End

The village bar is still serving lunch on the weekends, which is welcomed by us as a way of entertaining without having to cook the food, lay in some bottles of wine, find a dessert or make our own pastries. We just come in, sit on the terrace, order whatever is the main dish of the day, and slurp some cold rose or white wine while we amiably chat with our invited friends.

September 11, 2022 · 10 Comments

Tom Engelhardt: The Decline and Fall of Everything (Including Me)

I find myself experiencing three versions of that ultimate story: that of my own fall; that of my country; and that of an increasingly overheating planet as a habitable place for us all.

August 15, 2022 · 3 Comments

John Lawson: Two Dreams

She is one of that generation the heroes fought
And died for, inheritors of prim suburban homes
Purchased by the drowned

July 26, 2022 · Leave a comment

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