by George Held
When long waves roll in at Napeague and roil the tidal pools, I feel nature’s force and nature’s balm soothing my wounded body and my troubled mind,
All in the context of Covid-19, the plague upon all houses...
Ah, “coronavirus,” that beautiful poetical word, amphibrach + trochee, a perfect word for free verse, a word that can break any meter the way the virus can break down any human organ—
“Coronavirus” - caress its divine sonic details on the tongue, in the pharynx, the miraculous voice box,
As you murmur the all-consuming word—
coronavirus,
coronavirus,
coronavirus
George Held, a longtime contributor to TheNewVerse.News, is sheltering in Eastern Long Island.
Today's News . . . Today's Poem
The New Verse News
presents politically progressive poetry on current events and topical issues.
Guidelines
Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Showing posts with label organ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label organ. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 09, 2020
IN THE CONTEXT
Labels:
#TheNewVerseNews,
amphibrach,
balm,
coronavirus,
free verse,
George Held,
meter,
murmur,
Napeague,
organ,
plague,
poetical,
trochee
Thursday, October 17, 2013
WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE OWNED BY
by David Plumb
Slip on the Bible of your dreams
The organ will play and for a few short minutes,
perhaps America can fake attentiveness
between the wafer and the wine, the signs,
the blessings, perhaps a sacred universe,
a digression to quieter times,
of ruthless crucifixions,
promises of renewal, awakening,
While today fades in newsworthy bombs,
the theft of America’s wallet,
change chanted again and again
with working, unemployed Americans,
reaching for something, somewhere
beyond the weekend off, or the howling,
drooling, speculating, electrically magnified news,
wheedling, and gnawing at the remotes,
the hearts, the very strings of the sweet harp
we thought we heard in the clouds.
David Plumb’s latest fiction book is A Slight Change in the Weather. He has worked as a paramedic, a cab driver, a, cook and tour guide. A long time San Francisco writer, he now lives in South Florida .
Slip on the Bible of your dreams
The organ will play and for a few short minutes,
perhaps America can fake attentiveness
between the wafer and the wine, the signs,
the blessings, perhaps a sacred universe,
a digression to quieter times,
of ruthless crucifixions,
promises of renewal, awakening,
While today fades in newsworthy bombs,
the theft of America’s wallet,
change chanted again and again
with working, unemployed Americans,
reaching for something, somewhere
beyond the weekend off, or the howling,
drooling, speculating, electrically magnified news,
wheedling, and gnawing at the remotes,
the hearts, the very strings of the sweet harp
we thought we heard in the clouds.
David Plumb’s latest fiction book is A Slight Change in the Weather. He has worked as a paramedic, a cab driver, a, cook and tour guide. A long time San Francisco writer, he now lives in South Florida .
Labels:
agreement,
Bible,
blessings,
David Plumb,
new verse news,
news,
organ,
poetry,
shutdown,
theft,
unemployed
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