Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users

Fred Everett Maus: Yellow

In the days after, we did not weep in each other’s
presence, nor hold each other, nor say much
about our feelings. It was how we had always been.

November 30, 2021 · 5 Comments

Paul Christensen: The Leaden Hat of Fall

Once in a while the tufted sky would break open into dazzling radiance. I would often look up from my reading to behold a waterfall of fiery light, as if the Golden Fleece were hanging in a waterfall shedding all its precious minerals into the valley below.

November 28, 2021 · 10 Comments

Sally Bliumis-Dunn: Ode to Autumn

this is where I can
still see you
in these gray branches

November 24, 2021 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: Where Summer Ends

My village lies there in all its stony composure under the first thunderstorm of fall. It meant cold weather was coming, creeping in like a procession of ghosts under the rumbling sky.

October 10, 2021 · 1 Comment

Peter Blair: Variegation

After rain dries,
the shadows of leaves
star the white cement

September 28, 2021 · 1 Comment

Bertha Rogers: What Want Brings

Gray rain seeps through the fall
of played-out clouds, loops among hills,
ragged mountains; flexes and thins cut, contoured fields.

September 14, 2020 · 1 Comment

Arlene Weiner: November

He tears off summer’s dress,
exposes trunk and limb, threatens
worse coming. Yet he brings gifts…

November 4, 2019 · 1 Comment

T.E. Hulme: Autumn

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.

October 18, 2019 · Leave a comment

Joseph Fasano: The Figure

You rise. You turn back to the room and repeat what you know:
The earth is not a home. The night is not an empty bridle…

September 5, 2019 · Leave a comment

Elizabeth Romero: Carrying a Sign

Leaves on the wind circle in the air Like emissaries from another world Frantic warnings No one heeds them, they Push toward their usual destinations With their everyday faces   … Continue reading

October 15, 2018 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: After the Equinox

It’s fall here in southern France. The tourists have thinned out to a trickle of rubbernecks aiming their smart phones at almost anything green or shaggy with vines. They hardly … Continue reading

October 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

Christina Rossetti: From Sunset to Star Rise

Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not: I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, A silly sheep benighted from the fold, A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. … Continue reading

October 5, 2018 · Leave a comment

Billy Clem: Autumn

Attending late flowers, I inhale low pressure. Four o’clocks trumpet their final purples and sumacs give a sudden red beat before they cut and bleed. Tall and brazen pink, surprise … Continue reading

September 23, 2017 · 4 Comments

John Samuel Tieman: Autumn

a withered branch a bird looking for some rest an autumn sunset even the stones in the stream seem tired of the old sun — still it’s strange – autumn … Continue reading

October 1, 2015 · 1 Comment

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