Brutalist Touch by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] A brutalist touch on the winding staircase,Highlighted by the chandelier’s glare,The light beam descends into darkening space,A traveler must be aware. The steps descend all the way down,As if this were good architecture.At bottom might be a ghost...

War for the Poppy Fields by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] The poppy certainly has a rap,For the drugs like opium,And, history has it on the map,Of tales told from a podium. Small competition from growing grain,For those living close to poverty.Can the wheat crop truly life sustain,Or, is...

The Stage is a World by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] The world’s a stage, said the Bard,With words and powers to bring tears,But, now the stage’s the world, and a die-hard,Truth’s strong enough to block out fears. The glamour is tall and very thin,Its substance a matter of...

Clipped Wings Villanelle by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] How grand the crafts with silver wings,But stripped down to skeletal remains.Now gone the dreams of flying kings. Old dreams once were where the designer sings,The product of such creative brains.How grand the crafts with silver wings. The...

Seasons Change by Francis Conlon

[tabby title="Poem"] Comes the changing of the season,I’m glad to see a new nature’s plan,Planetary orbits are part of the reason,Copernicus helped us understand. Soon new heavenly lights will glow,Wise men follow a mysterious star,A revelation, a miracle, an ethereal...