Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Robert Frost: The Need of Being Versed in Country Things

Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go.

September 11, 2020 · 4 Comments

Gary Margolis: Ending the War

one morning
in August, she can walk
away from her fury
of pines, and catch
her breath

August 29, 2020 · 3 Comments

Ed Bieber: All At Once

After weeks of waiting patiently
for the first dandelion to appear,
we opened our door on a shocking
sea of vibrant, yellow, near-stemless
lion’s teeth.

July 9, 2020 · Leave a comment

Robert Wrigley: The Consciousness of Everything

That time’s lost now, when a stone could hurt,
when a feather missed its wing,
when sky kissed clouds and grass kissed dirt
and nothing thought itself just a thing.

May 26, 2020 · 2 Comments

Robert Frost: For Once, Then, Something

Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well…

May 8, 2020 · Leave a comment

Robert Frost: Storm Fear

I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length…

January 10, 2020 · Leave a comment

Robert Frost: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

December 27, 2019 · 2 Comments

John F. Kennedy: The Purpose of Poetry

In a 1963 eulogy for Robert Frost, John F. Kennedy described poetry as “the means of saving power from itself.”

December 1, 2019 · Leave a comment

Peter Makuck: Grackles

But after a few minutes
they become bold and
like dark thoughts
return

November 26, 2019 · Leave a comment

Matthew Hollis: Edward Thomas, Robert Frost and the road to war

When Thomas and Frost met in London in 1913, neither had yet made his name as a poet. They became close, and each was vital to the other’s success. But then Frost wrote ‘The Road Not Taken’, which brought Thomas to an irreversible decision.

October 25, 2019 · Leave a comment

Edward Thomas: Rain

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me

October 25, 2019 · Leave a comment

Robert Frost: “Out, Out—”

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.

October 11, 2019 · 1 Comment

Robert Frost: The Sound of the Trees

Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?

July 19, 2019 · Leave a comment

Video: Robert Frost reads “After Apple Picking” (text of poem included)

. After Apple Picking My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill Beside it, and there may be two … Continue reading

September 17, 2017 · Leave a comment

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