Remember

C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_tumblr_o4q1cplvo01qgqg2oo1_400.jpg“Remember: vividness, lucidity, momentum. A poem should not resemble ‘poetry’ too closely. The first impulse on reading a true poem is almost awkward. Lines should not be anticipated nor should a line be diffuse unless it conceals a jolt. Some sort of unexampled tension, not necessarily to be resolved, is characteristic of good poems. And not merely a tension purely of language but in the objects and their emotional equivalents. if a single line is to serve as a fulcrum it must be doubly sharp, hard and lucid. The whole point about a short lyric is to make the moment durable.”

Jim Harrison, from “A Natural History of Some Poems,” Just Before Dark:

The Bones of Our Existence

Boned

by R. M. Engelhardt

2606021092_c527e33abc_b.jpg Photo by Martin Cathrae via Flickr. Creative Commons: Some rights reserved.

If there’s an archaeology of the book, then the beginnings are deep under the surface, 
under the soil. 

~ J.M. Cortez

Every moment cannot be the poem
No matter what the poets say
Just like the idea of black & white
Everything is gray
We are cities of words we are
Oceans made of language & voices
We are merely the beginning
But always the end
We are the stories told & handed
Down from one generation
To the next
The bones of our own existence
The chance to start again
Without any heroes or myths
But with beauty, love, grace
And compassion
A story worthy
Of being
Alive

R.M. Engelhardt is a veteran poet & writer whose work over the years has appeared in many journals & magazines such as Dry Land Lit, Rusty…

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A Winters’ Tale

C__Data_Users_DefApps_AppData_INTERNETEXPLORER_Temp_Saved Images_15110846_1254903561227693_5052654562430728868_o.jpgA WINTERS TALE

In the evening
The early morning
This small world
Exists in silence

Just the wind
The snow envelops
All lights & this city

And the earth
Has momentarily
Ceased

Traveled back in
Time before man
Ran the show

The trees
Don’t seem
To care

I breathe in
The dark and
Breathe out
The daylight

And the earth
Returns again

Awakes to
The sounds of
Birds, machinery
And church bells

Perhaps

This is the
Closest we ever
Get to heaven

Perhaps

These are
The last moments
Of a sacred God
Who is no longer

Aware