Penny's Poetry Blog

July There is a month between the swath and sheaf           When grass is gone And corn still grassy,                     When limes a...

July: A pastoral poem Ye Dryads, who woo the recess Where the oak's ample shadow extends, To your haunts of retirement I press, An...

Lovers' Lane This cool quiet of trees In the grey dusk of the north, In the green half-dusk of the west, Where fires still glow; ...

God Smiles Star gazing all by myself on Mulvey Street. Stars glimmer brightly in colors like I've never seen before. The man nex...

Night Movement  —  New York In the night, when the sea-winds take the city in their arms, And cool the loud streets that kept their dus...

At the Gates of Dawn (a cento) Night prowls, scratches sand, & then pads on, the gnomes are sleeping in their gnomish homes, when d...

Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swif...