The Tusks of Memory by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] The creature has tusks of memory,Thoughts of living a state of grace,More hopeful than appeals to race,A most merriment in serious reverie. Gigantic in both size and thought,A mind that truths might be known.We know by behaviour that...

Nuclear Flex by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] A cataclysmic boom and momentous flash,The detonation of a nuclear bomb,Seemingly done without a qualm,Fills the air with a white fine ash. Echoing is an endless boom,Little survives the awesome blast,Only a few witnesses last,The earth is like...

The Lonely Traveller by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] The lonely traveller needs a pause,Times are so hectic on the schedule,Making the moments all too full.A quiet space does not break the law. Recall past travel with wind and sail,Round capes of Horn and Good Hope,Waves and...

The Great War Machine—Villanelle by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] The issues provoke a great war machine,Opinions launched do fill the air.So hard to find space in between. Appearances vary of what can be seen,A selection can have its fanfare.The issues provoke a great war machine. A violent...

The Thrill is Gone, a Villanelle by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] I look again, the thrill is gone,Guiding buoys are in the mist.How faint the words of that old song. There’s nowhere I truly belong,The path takes a turn and twist.I look again, the thrill is gone. Once, in...