David McLansky

Veteran Poet - 1,562 Points [David McLansky] (5/24/1944 / New York City)

David McLansky Poems

121. Belvedere 3/21/2014
122. Better Living Through Bad Chemistry 7/15/2014
123. Birthday Wishes 5/6/2013
124. Boaz And Ruth 12/26/2012
125. Bonjour Elaine 4/17/2016
126. Bonjour Ma Cher Elaine 4/17/2016
127. Borders 12/5/2012
128. Brandywine At My Door 5/9/2014
129. Brel2 8/21/2014
130. Bronach 3/19/2014
131. Bronwen's Birthday Poem 11/10/2013
132. Bronwen's Wedding Poem 2/9/2013
133. Bunniies In The My Garden 4/16/2016
134. But I Still Don'T Understand A Word You'Re Saying 8/19/2014
135. But What If No One Asks (A Riff) 1/5/2013
136. By The Window 1/18/2013
137. Cam Lainey On The 7 1/1/2014
138. Carte Blanche 5/21/2013
139. Catullus 1/24/2013
140. Christmas 2015 12/19/2015
141. Christmas, Hartland, Maine 1996 7/12/2013
142. Chrysalis 3/29/2014
143. Cold But Sentimental 3/28/2014
144. College Ghosts 1/1/2013
145. College Ghosts (A Riff) 1/1/2013
146. Complications 3/7/2014
147. Copper Kettle 9/9/2013
148. Copper Kettle 3/7/2014
149. Copper Plate Upon A Stone 10/18/2013
150. Court Life 12/25/2013
151. Crackers 12/20/2013
152. Crocuses 2/7/2013
153. Crossing A Hall 4/18/2014
154. Curse Of The Burning Witch 9/30/2014
155. Dancing 6/21/2013
156. Daphne In Ireland 2/13/2013
157. Dare I Chart My Own Decline? 4/3/2015
158. David And Absalom 4/10/2014
159. David And Elaine’s Epic Birthday Battle May 12/8/2013
160. Death Remains My Enemy (A Riff) 11/27/2012
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:

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