#ForgottenPoets
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Alfred Hitch (1920)

#poetry #poems #poem
MODERN LOVE ALTHOUGH she left me for a greater love, And though my life went out with her, I opened wide the door And blessed her ere she went. Love shall not make Me tyrant or a murderer. I want no love that is not free to love.
November 11, 2025 at 10:58 PM
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From 'Sea Garden' (1916)
—H.D. / Hilda Doolittle

#forgottenpoets #poetry #booksky
OREAD WHIRL up, sea - Whirl your pointed pines, Splash your great pines On our rocks, Hurl your green over us, Cover us with your pools of fir.
October 14, 2025 at 11:28 PM
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From 'Spring Interlude' (1927)
—Miriam Cassel Matthews

#ForgottenPoets #poetry #booksky
SLAG With your breath upon me My love flames high with garnet sparks-- Like a furnace of molten steel, Windblown. Having felt the breath of God, Are the stars Mere smoldering slag Fallen from an immortal crucible Where souls are in the making?
October 9, 2025 at 4:31 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Kenneth Slade Alling (1923)

#poetry #poems #booksky
To One Who Asked Ah, what are poems? There is a kind of tree That bruised, bleeds golden blood into the sea. And now you need not ask again of me.
October 8, 2025 at 8:10 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Miriam Cassel Matthews (1927)

#poetry #poems #booksky
THE BATTLE FROM A DISTANCE I. Through the night a light gleamed Like that from pewter in a darkened room, Or like a camp fire Reflecting on the guns, Or like a flame of lightning Above low mist.
October 2, 2025 at 10:02 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Miriam Cassel Matthews (1927)

#poetry #poems #poem
YOU ARE LILAC BLOSSOMS 1 You are lilac blossoms, And I, wild grass swaying beneath. Upright I grow Catching the fragrance of your presence. 2 You are blue binding sky, And I, meadows sloping westward. Secure I dream Feeling the soft contour of your arms.
September 28, 2025 at 11:04 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Ethel Romig Fuller

#poetry #poems #poem
The kneeling trees at timberline Are cowled in white wool; The rocks are mauve-feathered Like the breasts of doves; The shadows of the rocks Are muted purple. Dawn. . . New snow. . . .
September 24, 2025 at 9:02 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Clark Ashton Smith (1920s)

#poetry #poems #poem
—: Clark Ashton Smith :— No shining words of stone— Shadows and cloud alone— These shall the poet seek.
September 5, 2025 at 11:30 PM
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From 'Stellar' (In the Net of Stars, 1909)
—F.S. Flint

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #conscious
Stellar Beyond the moon the pale stars pine, And swoon in space. The eternal wand Of night lures on. Through hurtling dark, Creating light, the spark of life, The giddy race swoops blindly on: Eternity! Infinity! Falling, ever falling, down, deep, dark, INFINITY! ETERNITY! Whirling in appalling circles, now A world evolving, now a worm; And helming all a spirit immanent, Vast, overwhelming, guides the fall, Unguiding, conscious only, rides, And riots, revels, dwells, and is.
September 4, 2025 at 11:05 AM
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From 'Poetry' magazine (1919)
—Mary Aldis

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #seethe
EMBARCATION Slowly the great wave of a nation's sorrow Rises and swells and surges. From unseen depths it comes, From very far away. Silently, relentlessly, it moves Forward, forward, forward--- Until at last, with a profound reverberation, It breaks upon the grey, inevitable rock And falls back, broken into fragments That seethe in restless foam.
August 19, 2025 at 1:24 PM
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From 'The Wanderer' (1923)
—Gobind Behari Lal

#ForgottenPoets #poetry #poems
TECHNIQUE Life is a melon And Science is a knife And there is A right way of slicing But also A chopping too finely Of the delicate fruit.
August 19, 2025 at 10:14 AM
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From 'The Wanderer' (1923)
—Challiss Silvay

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #abject
ROAD'S END I shot my thoughts Straight from taut consciousness Down the road of your life. I struck deep undergrowth, Plunged through— And met sudden tragedy. Deserted . . . abject . . . Stood the little grey house of your soul.
August 17, 2025 at 7:05 PM
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From 'O City, Cities!' (1929)
—R. Ellsworth Larsson

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #pummel
Chicago Carthage London Rome-- the drains reiterate the names of places names and dates that fill the mind to overflowing with regrets regrets and yet regrets that fill the mind and overflow and spill into the room and rise in such increasing tides that bed the chairs the trunk and table rise and pummel at the walls and at the flesh rise and pummel pound the flesh — tear and unmesh it draw the blood
August 16, 2025 at 10:24 PM
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From 'Others' magazine (1917)
—Conrad Aiken

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #wings
Green fingers lifting a pebble, green fingers uncurling, the slant and splash of a waterdrop between eternities; earth slipping from old roots, and the stealth of white petals in the sun all day long; brown chimney pots descending against a cloud in silence; between walls the dry whir of a sparrow's wings . . . am I these, or more?
August 14, 2025 at 11:41 AM
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From 'Here You Have Me!' (1923)
—Robert J. Roe

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #mystical
Portrait of a Man "I did it, yes," he said, And looked at me When I asked him if the things They said of him were true: His neighbors Gabbling amongst themselves. He looked at me: His eyes were clear as water And there shone A mystical elation on his face; "I did it, yes," Was all he said.
August 14, 2025 at 11:32 AM
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Some new words by me from the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets

#dwpoems #poetry
"into air—the scent of a violet sings!" I. immortal the flower's stem: an umbilical of petals ontologically arrested II. make no mistake, you can't pry open the head of an ocean without imagining our annihilation
August 14, 2025 at 12:40 AM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Alice M. Fay (1923)

#poetry #poems #booksky
WHERE? Where is the life of the lily That su proudly reared her head? Where is the radiant beauty Of the rose that was warm and red? Where is the smoke of the incense That vanished into the air? The scent of the violet, the song of the singer, Where, oh, where?
August 11, 2025 at 1:27 PM
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From 'Opportunity' (1926)
—Helene Johnson

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #angels
Mother Soft hair faintly white where the angels touch it; Pale candles flaming in her eyes Hallowing her vision of Christ; And yet I know She would break each Commandment Against her heart, And bury them pointed and jagged in her soul-- That I may smile.
August 4, 2025 at 8:26 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Leon Srabian

#poetry #poem #booksky
THE CITY The city is a monster Swallowing what comes within its reach. The groves on the hilltops Are perturbed sentinels Warning the fields. But the city is a far crawling dinosaur, With its factory-claws Already at the vitals of the field.
August 3, 2025 at 11:28 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Leon Srabian

#poetry #poem #booksky
THE COW The thoughtful cow Looks at the lifted bird, Like a philosopher gazing at a star. Finally the cow tells her calf What a bird is.
August 3, 2025 at 7:54 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
—Jeanne D'Orge (1916)

#poetry #poem #poems
—: The Meat Press :— I have a longing To strip raw live flesh From my bones And squeeze it in the meat press. Blood will drip, Enough to write a few lyrics Red and sacramental.
July 31, 2025 at 9:12 PM
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From 'Poetry' magazine (1929)
—Marion Edward Stanley

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #elm
The Old Men How softly the old men walk! They pass through the street before my house, Etched in soundless movement Against the cold black elms And the scum in the air from the oil burners. Their feet seem to catch up the earth, cushioning stealthily against it. They are afraid of notice. They are afraid of being seen; standing out. Do they think, if they make no noise and are quiet, The Dark One will not find them?
July 30, 2025 at 1:03 PM
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From the latest issue of #ForgottenPoets
A lil something by me 🖤

#dwpoems #poetry #booksky
—: Suggestions :— by Dick Whyte learn most of the names of the sky— make friends with stones & rocks— be a river when you need to rest— become an insect, etc.
July 30, 2025 at 11:44 AM
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From 'Poems For L.S.' (1918)
—Louis Grudin

#ForgottenPoets #vss365 #elm
MY PEOPLE Here are we all Stricken and blown about, And made old And yellow With our days. Here are our faces Made heavy with flesh, And our hearts Fattened for death. Here are our eyes Made gray With dust of hours. Here are we also Drawn thin as elm branches After a wind. Here our young Grow old ahead of us. Here our children Are buried.
July 30, 2025 at 10:46 AM