Poetry

For the lover of verse, the wise word-maker, and the curious critic, I present: The Poetry Page.


All entries are of by Caitlin LoTruglio (née Clancy) unless otherwise noted.

And now, for our first selections -

The Death of the Winter Rose


Whistle the wind
And fly the wave
Break the crest
And snap the stave

Billow out
And draw the line
Swerve the shoals
Rend the chine

Hard the crash
Into the sand
Behold the bulk
Uncrew’d, unman’d

There she lies
Upon the shore
She will sail
Never more.


The Perils of Poetry


Many a poet
(And oh, do I know it!)
Has coveted something serene:
To write up in verse
A line witty and terse -
But to this a catch there has been:
For the prize, you should see,
(And by “you” I mean “we”)
Is a laurel bound up as a wreath –
But writer, beware,
For if you dare,
You’ll find out that grammar has teeth! 


Thoughts of a Young Bride



Silk of my mothers
Runs through my fingers –
Cool, white, and beautiful.
So they all say.

Shall I be married, then,
As Papa wishes?
Shall I be wed upon
Michaelmas day?

Or shall I run away,
Run away far?
Forsaking my mother,
Grieving my father,
Leaving my brothers,
Run away far?

But child-thoughts leave me,
Run away far,
Chastened by duty,
Vanquished by fear,
Words of the prophets
My insolence mar.

Yes, I will meet you,
My lord and my master,
In fear though I greet you
The one I know not.

And I shall have peace then
As you gently lift me –
A dove on the threshold
Of marriage is caught.






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