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New Offeringsfrom the Editor
Two new offerings from the editor...
Feathered Chalice
Conjugating the Edge of Is
DayPoems Favorites
PORT: An Online Visual Arts Journal
A Poet on a Magical Journey Home
Chronicles of a Sea Woman
Parallels Studio
Bipolar Poetry
Mantra.X
Poetry, Film and Books
Poetry Archive
Project Gutenberg, a huge collection of books as text, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. This is the source of the first poetry placed on DayPoems.
Tina Blue's Beginner's Guide to Prosody, exactly what the title says, and well worth reading.
popomo.net, miniature, minimalist-inspired sculptures created from industrial cereamics, an art project at Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon.
pink.popomo.net, More projects from Portland
oarena.net, Furby, Eliza, Mr_Friss and Miss_Friss.
Save Point 0.8.1, a Portland, Oregon, exhibit, Aug. 13-Sept. 5, 2004, at Disjecta.
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A dozen poems
For July 4, 2009A version friendly to printer and palmtop
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Melbourne, by Patrick Moloney
O sweet Queen-city of the golden South,
Piercing the evening with thy star-lit spires,
Thou wert a witness when I kissed the mouth
Of her whose eyes outblazed the skyey fires.
I saw the parallels of thy long streets,
Copyright 2003-2004 by Spring Allegro. All rights reserved.
A Matter of Taist for Mother Nature, by Jennifer Concetta
I've got this philosophy about life,
Your heart will be exposed to keep great expectations,
Build a dream,
Make them your own paradise.
The track of time you're grounded by could move magic to your table,
A Pedlar, by John Dowland
FINE knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,
Good pennyworths--but money cannot move:
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view--
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,
Lament for Chaucer, by Thomas Hoccleve
ALLAS! my worthi maister honorable,
This landes verray tresor and richesse!
Deth by thy deth hath harme irreparable
Unto us doon: hir vengeable duresse
Despoiled hath this land of the swetnesse
Love's Treasure House, by David MacDonald Ross
I went to Love's old treasure house last night,
Alone, when all the world was still -- asleep,
And saw the miser Memory, grown gray
With years of jealous counting of his gems,
There seated. Keen was his eye, his hand
The Odyssey, by Andrew Lang
AS one that for a weary space has lain
Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,
Where that Aeaean isle forgets the main,
And only the low lutes of love complain,
A Rose, by Sir Richard Fanshawe
BLOWN in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon.
What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee?
Thou'rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon,
And passing proud a little colour makes thee.
If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives,
Sunset, by George Charles Whitney
Behind the golden western hills
The sun goes down, a founder'd bark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The silence of the dark.
O twilight sad with wistful eyes,
Compensation, by William Ellery Leonard
I know the sorrows of the last abyss:
I walked the cold black pools without a star;
I lay on rock of unseen flint and spar;
I heard the execrable serpent hiss;
I dreamed of sun, fruit-tree, and virgin's kiss;
`The Love in her Eyes lay Sleeping', by William Forster
The love in her eyes lay sleeping,
As stars that unconscious shine,
Till, under the pink lids peeping,
I wakened it up with mine;
And we pledged our troth to a brimming oath
The Outer Gate, by Nora May French
Life said: "My house is thine with all its store:
Behold I open shining ways to thee --
Of every inner portal make thee free:
O child, I may not bar the outer door.
Go from me if thou wilt, to come no more;
Asylum, by William Bevill
The buns are moldy
Cat vomit stains smell sour across the halls
The crap is wiped all over bed sheets
Glasses of unsipped milk have curdled
Flesh rots and stinks up the bathtub
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