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

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


This is the
Closest we ever
Get to heaven


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


The Death Of Shelly



All the earth and air                

With thy voice is loud


Death Is Here And Death Is There

Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Above is death—and we are death.

Death has set his mark and seal
On all we are and all we feel,
On all we know and all we fear,

First our pleasures die—and then
Our hopes, and then our fears—and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust—and we die too.

All things that we love and cherish,
Like ourselves must fade and perish;
Such is our rude mortal lot–
Love itself would, did they not.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Today, in July 1822, Mary Shelley and Jane Williams awaited with weeping anxiety the return of Percy Bysshe Shelley, who, sailing from Livorno in his fragile craft, had come to shore by sudden chance among the silences of the Elysian Isles. – O blessed shores, where Love, Liberty and Dreams have no chains.”This unearthly legend had been built up steadily throughout the 19th century. Shelley’s wife Mary herself launched it, writing immediately after his death: “I was never the Eve of any Paradise, but a human creature blessed by an elemental spirit’s company & love – an angel who imprisoned in flesh could not adapt himself to his clay shrine & so has flown and left it.”

Shelley drowned in his own sailing boat, the Don Juan, while returning from Livorno to Lerici, in the late afternoon of July 8 1822, during a violent summer storm. He was a month short of his 30th birthday. Like Keats’s death in Rome the year before, or Byron’s death at Missolonghi two years later, this sudden tragedy set a kind of sacred (or profane) seal upon his reputation as a youthful, sacrificial genius. But far more comprehensively than theirs, Shelley’s death was used to define an entire life, to frame a complete biography.

shelly(source:  http://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/jan/24/featuresreviews.guardianreview1)


In The Dysfunctional Poetry Super Market

In The Dysfunctional Poetry Super Market

Oh what fresh
New hell
Is this?

Looking at the expiration date I
Pick it up and then just as quickly
Put it back upon the shelf,
Leave it for some other poor
Bastard to find.

Besides, I’ve already got a poem
Just like it

At home.



~ R.M. Engelhardt

NOD : (Moon Stars Sun Time) Poems R.M. ENGELHARDT


I Just Recently Found Out That There Are a Few Copies Of My Book From 2002 “NOD” Still Available To The Public Out There. Hope You Will Pick Up A Copy!


~ R.M.



“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.”

~ August Wilson


Five New Poems : R.M. ENGELHARDT

Hello To All My WordPress Friends,

Welcome to the new and improved R.M. Engelhardt website and as always thank you for stopping by to read a poem or perhaps just find some inspiration.

Here are five new poems published by The Outlaw Poetry Network which are forthcoming from my next book of poetry “The Bones Of Our Existence”. (More Details To Come!)


Thank you for supporting my work and supporting poetry!





The Open Library : R.M. Engelhardt

The Last Cigarette Poems R.M. Engelhardt

The Last Cigarette:

The Collected Poems

Of R.M. Engelhardt


These are the earlier collected works of Albany, NY based poet, writer & author R.M. Engelhardt who has published several books over the last two decades. Engelhardt through his ideas & visions has helped to create a large amount of the Upstate, Albany, NY spoken word~poetry scene and is the host of The Saint Poem Reading Series. Through his efforts he has created such groups the Albany Poetry Syndicate as well as Albany Poets (www.AlbanyPoets.com), which have left a lasting mark on the upstate NY literary scene. His work has also been published by many journals both in print & on the net including Retort, Verve, Fashion For Collapse, Sure! The Charles Bukowski Newsletter, Copious Amounts, Thunder Sandwich, The Angry Poet, 2nd Avenue Poetry, Full of Crow & in many others.


The Open Library


A Writers Advice


Poetry and cigarettes

May save your soul,

Or what once

Someone told me

Before I grew old,


And scotch and women?


It’s all the same,

For these four things

Shall keep you quite sane


But now that I’m older

And wiser for wear

I know it’s only love

That keeps our souls here.


For words

Might be wisdom

And the words may be true

But love is more

Beautiful and

Far wiser than you


(shall ever ever be)



~ R.M.