BY THIS AUTHOR
To Pantheon and Back
Lower your head,
Ezra Pound;
methinks you’ve
been too proud.
Lend your ear,
and I’ll speak profound...
What I Owe to the Ancients
Turning to the stone,
the toiled frame of a sentenced man
turned, stood, alone.
Pressing against the boulder,
he likened the round rock
to a crystal ball of grave insight...
Across The Road I Saw
Wonderful smiles at wondrous times;
across the room,
behind the curtain
and read between the lines.
Scarcely scattered marches and carnival rides;
joyous laughter muddled
by the crowds passing by.
But still, I must insist, there were the smiles.
By JPV
Copyright March 2006