David McLansky

Veteran Poet - 1,194 Points [David McLansky] (5/24/1944 / New York City)

David McLansky Poems

681. The Wild Boy 5/4/2014
682. The Wild Sucker Tree 4/7/2014
683. They Transferred Her Home To Die 7/25/2013
684. Thinking Backwards 6/18/2013
685. This Coming Day 7/17/2014
686. This Mortal Life 10/28/2013
687. Thoreau's Wife 1/23/2013
688. Thoughts Of An Irish Slave In Scotland 924 A.D. 1/10/2013
689. Thyrsis 12/24/2013
690. Time Was 3/29/2014
691. Time Won’t Stand Still 6/23/2013
692. Timeless Love 3/21/2014
693. To A Night Dove 4/27/2014
694. To A Persian Poet 6/8/2014
695. To A Poetess I Loved Before 9/15/2013
696. To A Poetess Who Wants To Infect Her Reluctant Lover With A Love Virus 3/23/2014
697. To An American Lady In Ireland 1/20/2013
698. To An Internet Poetess 9/14/2013
699. To An Offer Of Young Love Across The Internet 5/3/2014
700. To Elaine 7/10/2013
701. To Elaine Who Has The Sniffles 12/11/2013
702. To Jim Hiner: A Recommendation 10/27/2013
703. To Julia 1/29/2013
704. To Lainey On The Cam 6/19/2013
705. To My Bronwen 6/1/2013
706. To My Competitor 6/7/2014
707. To My Ever Faithful Elaine 8/31/2014
708. To My Ex-Wife 7/26/2013
709. To My Mountan Laurel 10/4/2014
710. To My Roselyn On My 68th Birthday 1/25/2013
711. To See This Giant 9/22/2014
712. To Sweet Valerie 8/18/2013
713. To The Poet Dave Wood 5/3/2013
714. To The Poet Blackbird 6/12/2013
715. To The Poetess Who Keeps Cutting Herself 2/13/2014
716. To Wise Valerie 8/20/2013
717. Ulysses 10/14/2014
718. Ulysses In Age 10/14/2014
719. Upon Meeting My Granddaughter For The First Time 9/26/2015
720. Urbanization And The Irish 3 3/17/2013
Best Poem of David McLansky

After My Death

No stillness filled the air,
The Nation didn't pause
Speechless with despair;
No limousine procession
Slowly snaked the road,
Winding to the crowded hill
And my last abode;
No local politicians
Recalled the City's loss
No Abbot of the Diocese
Softly kissed his Cross;
No Mayor of the Village
Called me Mankind's Friend,
No speeches intoned over me
Recalling Life at end;
At my empty grave site
Two weeping children stood,
Summarizing all I'd done
And all I ever would.

Read the full of After My Death

Shakespeare In Love

To me my beauty you never shall be old,
Though Time shall scourge your fragile shield of flesh;
I balm those wounds as Time's cruel lash does scold,
And heal his welts, your loveliness refreshed;
For in my love are herbs of powers rare
Restoring as harsh Time does take away,
My eyes, your mirror, chastening your despair,
Reflecting forth you've aged not yet a day;
Take comfort then within this frame of youth:

[Hata Bildir]