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Poetry of Eric M. Stokes
THE HAWK
Though a turbulent moment's high wind
Opposed the hawk's slow, steady ascent,
That could hardly raise a doubt whether
Its wings would rule the wide ether.
That regal day, clear but lightly glazed
White on its edges, all the wind raised
Was the calm defeat of its own weather --
Newly drawn swords, reserves of feather!
(1996)
CORAL CASTLE
Six decades of science and guessing cannot tell
How the builder, equipped with just a broken heart
And hurtful dreams of wooing her by building well
But nothing else, bid huge stones obey a strange art.
Trespassing, prying eyes and cameras nightly crept
To catch the odd artist at work and unaware,
But only saw a vigilance which never slept.
Ed Leedskalnin his hidden art would never share.
The one he built for never came and didn’t care;
But many have come to marvel at this token
Of hope and art transcending lonely despair,
A lasting creation by one who was broken.
Many hold a lover, then love turns to dust -
Now kindness kisses malice, now warm intent
Knows cold rage. Then at last love is laid to rest,
But it dies still having raised no monument.
(2004, modified 2007)
A Sermonette-Valentine's Day and the Love of God
An Argument for Abolishing the Electoral College
Caerse en un cielo (in Spanish, literary)
The Poetic Voice of Rita Dove
Send E-Mail to: emstokes72@yahoo.com
Copyright © 2008 Eric M. Stokes. All Rights Reserved