Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Daniel Burston: John Prine, Working Class Poet (1947-2020)

John Prine was a national treasure, whose songs about love, loss and aging – many written while he was still a relatively young man! – reflect his working class roots. But even so, they have a universal and timeless relevance.

April 10, 2020 · 3 Comments

Chard deNiord: Last Goodbye in the Time of Corona

The darkness arrived without your voice
or touch, my love, and yet I heard
your voice and felt your hand in mine.

March 31, 2020 · 6 Comments

Molly Fisk: Elegy (for Leah)

her infinite soprano
and my street drawl voicing words that could
depress a saint

March 9, 2020 · Leave a comment

Connie Post: How to Sort the Living from the Dead

Forget all the nonsense
about eyes opened or closed
or breathing
or brain waves

February 20, 2020 · Leave a comment

Sharon Fagan McDermott: Orchid Room, Phipps Conservatory

Grandma lived to be ninety-three
and wore the fabric of that tale to a soft sheen
with her retelling. Where does the past lie?

February 6, 2020 · 3 Comments

Sydney Lea: Passing the Arts and Crafts Fair

There aren’t many like him anymore, the handy, soft-spoken old ones, who still know how to farm, how to raise up a house you can live in, how to still-hunt a whitetail.

January 17, 2020 · Leave a comment

Louie Skipper: The Beginning

I keep trying to persuade my father
into a better opinion of me now that he is dead.

January 16, 2020 · 2 Comments

Edna St. Vincent Millay: Dirge without Music

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind…

January 3, 2020 · 1 Comment

Miriam Levine: Candlewood

We go into the dark and the dark opens.
Boats tipped with light and moon on the water.

December 9, 2019 · Leave a comment

Elena Karina Byrne: Reality may still be unacceptable Gerhard Richter

A Repeating Dream I’m Belly-Down at Eleven
beneath barbwire like bedsprings during night-climbs

September 2, 2019 · 1 Comment

Sharon Fagan McDermott: This Against the Night

Sweet hyssop and the sweltering hives
from which sail bees, their resolute flight
into July, into my garden.

August 21, 2019 · Leave a comment

Elizabeth Kirschner: Jones Beach

He went out. Into the ocean’s black maw. To save. To rescue. Didn’t, as they say, come back. Death is funny like that, precise, dissolute.

August 4, 2019 · Leave a comment

Luray Gross: If Two People Are Aware of the Rising Moon

When his mind grew empty
and his heartbeat slowed to a vague stutter,
our father no longer walked the fields at night.

July 8, 2019 · 1 Comment

Carolyn Gregory: Listening to John Coltrane on my Mother’s Death Day

Swirling, confident, those sax notes stretch and blow
above the drums, full of his blue notes,
fifty years ago, new as now.

May 17, 2019 · Leave a comment

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 11,244 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 3,917,450 hits

Archives