Vox Populi

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

Mary Jane White: Friend, You Count Yourself Faithless,

…the Sea and all her ships
are women you are too certain of —
who would not marry you for love.

May 14, 2022 · Leave a comment

Martin Edmunds: Crowes Pasture

the sky is iron, rusting
round the edges; ravens settle like scorched
pages in the oak

February 8, 2022 · 1 Comment

Lex Runciman: Coast Morning Not a Painting

The upper third color field
is all tin flash, ocean blue shoulders and tics.
That wide mid-brown crossed by shine is sand
and fresh water going home.

January 18, 2022 · 4 Comments

Chard deNiord: I Was Walking Around

in the woods below the house by the stream when suddenly I thought, Why write another thing about the woods or stream or sky as I have for years? Why … Continue reading

January 4, 2022 · 2 Comments

Mary Jane White: Friend, Tell Me, What Can I Know

…always the sun failed again
for the evening, and the short grass fell dull
in the shadows, out of the slant-light.

January 3, 2022 · 3 Comments

Jane Satterfield: Fox

the fox
is interloper, is fur of russet
and iron, is light-footed, is real
in my alley

December 6, 2021 · 5 Comments

Mary Jane White: Why, Friend, With Surprise and Awe

I weep easily and often
now for the world.

November 8, 2021 · 4 Comments

Dawn Potter: Island Weather

headlights painting streaks of rain
on my pale window, and still
the torrent comes faster, faster—bluster, leak,
and squall.

November 3, 2021 · 6 Comments

Kari Gunter-Seymour: That Spot where Raccoon Creek Meets Brush Fork

I wish I could say
I lay your body under the honeysuckle
the day you crossed over, let vine and wisp
hang nectar all around you.

October 18, 2021 · 6 Comments

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

Paul Laurence Dunbar: In Summer Time

‘Tis wealth enough of joy for me
In summer time to simply be.

August 15, 2021 · 8 Comments

Josephine Dickinson: The Water Bearers

we wriggled and followed
the path upstream,
coigned in its armbends, whinsill, lime,
dumped peatblocks,
humped heather, deer grass

July 26, 2021 · 1 Comment

Elizabeth Jacobson: There are as Many Songs in the World as Branches of Coral

As a child
I combed black rocks of a jetty
prying starfish from pools

July 14, 2021 · 5 Comments

H.D.: Evening

shadow seeks shadow,
then both leaf
and leaf-shadow are lost 

July 2, 2021 · Leave a comment

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