Here, where winter never really comes, How so, this vast profusion of wildflowers, These waves of jasmine sweet upon the wind, This hum...

I was a mere sixteen that Summer day We all piled in a beat-up car and drove To Woodstock, or someplace we had been told That a great...

They say that there are ghosts that haunt this place Of ones who long ago met their end here, But in the fern-cooled air that bathes my...

Like ghosts, the buildings Watch the changing earth and sky— Nothing is empty. Though in dark shadow, Gnarled and bent, it seems to rise...

In March, when the shadows are long, I am walking Down the streets of the city I knew long ago, And see as in dreams empty windows there...

As the trees and the sky wear a more somber hue, At once beautiful, sad, and yet strange, And the lowering rays of late autumn imbue...

The leaves of Summer never were so fair As now, by dying season’s light they’re kissed, September’s melancholy, golden mist Descends like...

The light falls softly on the sparkling lawn, And then awakens every tree and flower, All earth renews, as it has since the dawn Of life...

The clock is ticking in the pallid rays Of ghost-like morning hour’s waning moonlight, And though it orders all my waking days, It has no...

It was the eyes that first ensnared my sight, As if through the hazy, gray years were glowing, Like beacons in my soul’s long wandering...

The following is a workshop and dialogue on the art of classical poetic recitation. We at The Chained Muse believe that a revival of...

Old as the eons that measure the galaxies, As to the unheard music they swirl, Young as the feeling that plays in the heart And the smile...

Late summer, and the silvery undersides Of the leaves shimmer in the hazy air, And the cicadas’ song wells up in tides That wash over my...

It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can...

These stones that like huge sculpted figures lie Amid the trunks of moss and fern-clad trees, Eons of creatures have seen born and die...

Sometimes I imagine that I am still young, Like an old sleeping dog in his dreams; His legs move, and he pants at the air with his...

The first true norther came today, With raging gusts of wind and rain, And blew the Summer heat away, And with it all of passion’s pain....

In the deep of the night do my restless thoughts roam To the moon-flooded fields of the sky, And they search for a pure and ethereal...

Long before the first eyes ever saw me Floating like a ghost upon the night, Long before human minds even feebly Pierced beyond their...

It plays upon the glowing sunset boughs, When shadows have enveloped all below, And distant, other-worldly thoughts arouse A passion in...