Members' Poetry Gallery
A rotating showcase of the diverse voices within our Society.
New poems are posted regularly. Support your fellow poets by reading and sharing their work!
SNOW
It is only in summer that she dreams cool coverlets of white free of the hints of dirt and piss that shade reality. On sultry nights whitecold she feels it melting from her heat, the moonlight making it sparkle, adding sheen to her moist flesh. Only in summer, long after winter coats have been mothballed, snow shovels hidden behind mowers, bags of mulch, rakes do her dreams crystallize-- no two of them alike. It's then her mind drifts, becomes desirous of cool white flakes falling on her tongue, longs for the very thing she'll curse a few short months from now.
Ronnie R. Brown
(Previously published in Spire, Vol. 3, #10 and on the web as part of the TRUCK poetry series.)
Cottage Arrival
Highway yields to gravel road, then cottage lane. We open the windows wider as the car gradually slows, guiding our transition from city rush to cottage wander. The lake sparkles in greeting, and the last turn reveals the cottage, sun-dappled and serene, waiting hopefully. We emerge from the car, inhale the sweetness of trees and water, hear the rustle of birch leaves, the sigh of pines. We pull up the blinds to welcome in the sun, throw open windows to the fragrant breeze, drop bags, empty coolers, then throw off our clothes and run for the lake. The first plunge washes the city from our skin – now we have arrived!
Anne Hofland
Leaves
Windblown leaves make music Like an obedient rustling orchestra, onstantly changing with the wind's tempo. Once the wind-wafted symphony is done, The wind's wiffled instruments hang limp, Unable to entertain in their windy musical incline. Until the next gusty conductor puffs along To begin the next whirlwind melodic blow.
Owen Wagg
The Frost That Stings
A tender line upon the western red; The far off city towered and roofed in blue, Gives off a illuminant haze That seems to have power over The stars that singly, then in flocks appear, Like jets of silver from the violet dome. Trudging along the darkened trail Silence pervades The loneliness of this forsaken ground, That has seen time march along, For an eternity it seems, While it remains here. The frost that stings like fire upon my cheek Makes me remember that I, Am indeed still alive out here, While I see ahead Across the open fields for miles ahead The frost yet waiting for me, Blowing fiercely with bracing intent, With its hoarfrost fire. Perhaps I will daydream my way through That too, which has not happened yet, As I daydream my way here Through this same frost. Once I have walked upon The rippled sheet of snow where the wind blew, Turning one cheek after the other, In steely defiance of its unrelenting blow, I'm finally triumphantly heading Towards the city lights And then the golden moon to light me home? To Ottawa.
Owen Wagg
How to Get Featured
Submitting to the Members' Poetry page is a benefit of your TOPS membership. We welcome all styles and themes.
- Eligibility: You must be a current member in good standing.
- Format: Submit one poem at a time (max 40 lines).
- Frequency: Poems are rotated monthly to ensure everyone has a chance.
Ready to Submit?
Email your poem in the body of the message (no attachments please) to:
ibunny@rogers.com
Please include your name and city as you would like them to appear.
All poetry remains the intellectual property of the individual authors. Reproduction without consent is prohibited.