Edmund V. Strolis Poems

Her tiny hands held the mug, fingers traced each crack and scrape.
Twas rare to find it out of sight for two moments in a day.

Worn was the handle, near vanished the rose, a mere hint of pink inlaid.
...

Now with possessions so few, hoisted and bundled on wagons secure.

The measured remains still too many, to flee from the thunder of war.
His family their faces so tired, will need all their strength to endure.
...

September's cool nights and warm days tease and court our sentiments.
In September dusk, magic beckons us to taste her autumn fruit yet still the warm afternoon holds us faithful to the high summer's waning song.
Autumn in September is subtle and everywhere, calling us forward. But forward toward what? What misty memories await us just around the bend?
...

Captured in a floating world of limited expectation.

Boundaries neatly set and dimensions defined in time.
...

In a curve on a river on a nameless muddy shoulder

his boots in kicking fits tore up the shore that day
...

Some mornings we are not rushed and life falls into place.
Sometimes the sun shines just for you, so giddy up.
Sometimes the radio plays your songs and carries you away.
Sometimes the universe is not conspiring to ruin your drive.
...

Bring them in and knock 'em down.
Ole' blue eyes back in town.
All you pretenders hit the bricks.
No time for all your warbling tricks.
...

The Lucky Man

He forgave those that lacked the wisdom.
He pitied those with artificial crutches.
...

I stand all but alone in winter midnight.
Alone but for the wind and frozen lake.
The wind how she howls unceasing.
The lake's shores forever unrealized.
...