Colosseum Reverie
She’s ruined, though her shadows dwell,
Forever reaching for the light,
And crumbling blocks of travertine
Still mourn the loss of lofty height.
Her graces play as sunset fades
And bathes her in the evening shades
To ease her gently into night.
She’s longer known the Winter’s gloom
Than Spring’s fair, fleeting flower,
The cresting waves of Summer’s heat,
Or Autumn’s fiery hour—
A barren oak, dead seasons past,
Ensconced in vibrant, flowing grass;
A ghostly sentinel tower.
A Glover’s Son From Stratford
If I were born a glover’s son Or had some other humble birth, Could I still think like anyone Or would my mind concede its worth Was less than what its worth would be If it were not born low like me? If I had few good books to read And could not travel very far, Would it then have to be agreed I could not be like dreamers are, Who conjure stories from the air And in their dreams go everywhere?
Light Pollution
We wash away the stars with city light,
And steal much of the beauty from the night.
The moon hangs low, in luminous despair,
As white fluorescence permeates the air.
The plundered heavens weep in shades of gray,
And plot for the return of brighter day.
Dan Jabe is a litigation attorney in Ohio. He writes formal poetry, some of it with classical overtones. His poems have been published in several journals, including First Things, Modern Age, and The Road Not Taken: The Journal of Formal Poetry.