Richard Cory

By Edwin Arlington Robinson on April 03, 2011, at 8:57 p.m.


By Michael L. King on Feb. 20, 2011, at 3:31 p.m.

A Winter Poem

By Ellen Richards, with help from William Shakespeare on Feb. 06, 2011, at 5:24 p.m.


By Bruce Holsapple on Jan. 30, 2011, at 5:17 p.m.

Rilke and a New Ignition

By thomas moore on Jan. 23, 2011, at 7:52 p.m.
Unscrew the locking cap / the mechanic said

He Wanted to Tell Us

By patricia smith ranzoni on Jan. 15, 2011, at 6:06 p.m.
Once upon a place, at a school up the Penobscot, a professor of words and all that can be made believed in his students the way he believed in seeds and soil …


By roger carpentter on Jan. 09, 2011, at 6:13 p.m.
I’m the god of misplaced confidence Purveyor of false competence I whisper to assure sky divers I give courage to rock climbers I build philosophies on lies And trick the honest …


By D.W. Brainerd on Jan. 02, 2011, at 6:02 p.m.
What are these, then, steel pins, their points shoved through black felt, and glowing whiter as if they might be hot enough to melt the ice and snow that covers all the …

On Speaking

By Carolyn Locke on Dec. 27, 2010, at 11:10 a.m.
There are days when all that can be said is that people are separate,

Nocturne: Great Spruce Head Island

By Kristen Lindquist on Dec. 19, 2010, at 7:20 p.m.
The wind wakes me. It howls through the house,bangs windows against their hooks.

Moose on the Road to Jackman

By George Chappell on Dec. 12, 2010, at 5:51 p.m.
Snow is falling on the way to Jackman, Maine, high in the mountains, where terrain is stark. A moose, covered in white, lies in the road, drawing heat from the friction of tires. The …


By Gerald George on Dec. 05, 2010, at 6:34 p.m.
He lost his home by the sea when he couldn’t pay the tax. He had to move inland and he took along his axe. And every stick he chopped to stoke his shack’s wood stove, he saw as …


By Peter Kilgore on Nov. 27, 2010, at 3:03 p.m.
3 blue herons

After school in the fall

By Robert L. Keniston on Nov. 21, 2010, at 9:55 p.m.
After school in the fall was usually a pickling fragrance time.

Ghosts 08

By H.R. Coursen on Nov. 14, 2010, at 6:31 p.m.
The hill rises, as smooth and rounded stones shoulder, headless, on the grass. Workers pause, as a caisson rumbles past, and pause again, as somewhere taps is sounded, returning from the …


By Henry D.M. Sherrerd Jr. on Nov. 07, 2010, at 6:38 p.m.
Drums red drums blue drums goldSparks of color in the snow far aheadAt the crown of the bridge in the coldGray sky black water thudding choppersStamping feet mark time …

Sonnet vii

By Paul Hughes McBreairty on Oct. 30, 2010, at 7:39 p.m.
We hate in others what we hate within;We need not guess the sins of swaggerts pure;Before exposed they preach their filthy sinOf perfect spiritual pride inured.How do academics prove lofty worth …


By Thomas Moore on Oct. 24, 2010, at 6:28 p.m.
The dozen rosemary tips I cut and rooted in the fall grew in my study window.

Population 4,672

By Baron Wormser on Oct. 18, 2010, at 9:18 a.m.
We gazed out the oversize, picture window One gray, forlorn, late autumn afternoon To see most of the usually pacific mill town Parading down the two blocks of Main Street.

The Alchemy of Goldenrod

By D.W. Brainerd on Oct. 11, 2010, at 6:17 p.m.
Like all that grows from root to shoot, It spends the spring in leafing green, Till midyear, when the great change starts,