David McLansky

Veteran Poet - 1,578 Points [David McLansky] (5/24/1944 / New York City)

David McLansky Poems

201. To Sweet Valerie 8/18/2013
202. Oh Valerie, You Keep Me Waiting 8/19/2013
203. An Apology To Valerie 8/19/2013
204. To Wise Valerie 8/20/2013
205. A Riff On Indranil Bhaduri’s Poem “savior' 8/18/2013
206. In Barron's Bookstore, A Riff On Iris Blue's English Sonnet 8/20/2013
207. On Viewing A Friends Lingering Death 8/22/2013
208. When I Look Back 8/24/2013
209. Little Girl’s First Train Ride 8/27/2013
210. In Memory Of Kay Borth 8/27/2013
211. Fragment From The Pilgrim Road 9/2/2013
212. How Odd That You 9/3/2013
213. A Riff On Noreen Carden's 'souls On The Shore' 9/3/2013
214. In Praise Of Myspace 9/4/2013
215. Old Theme 9/6/2013
216. When The Bishop Called 5/26/2013
217. The Old Clochard 9/8/2013
218. Copper Kettle 9/9/2013
219. Here's To The Arm Of Mighty Glyn 5/19/2013
220. Thank God, Marge Is Back 9/11/2013
221. Answering A Maiden's Plea 9/13/2013
222. To An Internet Poetess 9/14/2013
223. The Deer Ate My Tulip Tops 9/13/2013
224. Riff On Please Don’t Pick The Daffodils 9/16/2013
225. The Dangers Of Being Old 5/7/2013
226. The Oaten Bride (1) 9/18/2013
227. The Oaten Bride (2) 9/19/2013
228. To A Poetess I Loved Before 9/15/2013
229. The Evil 9/16/2013
230. The Oaten Bride (4) 9/21/2013
231. The Oaten Bride (6) 9/25/2013
232. Old Adam In His Eden 9/25/2013
233. Le Retour 9/27/2013
234. Mad Poet 10/2/2013
235. Riff On A Walk On A Scottish Beach 4/20/2013
236. My Love Dies With Me When I Die 10/3/2013
237. 1941 10/4/2013
238. The White Ship (38) 4/11/2013
239. Weaving Loom 9/30/2013
240. My Angel 10/11/2013
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

Galatea (A Riff)

What perfection in eye and cheek,
She shifts her body, I cannot speak,
Her back's soft light of muscled bone
That I would frame in marble stone;

What arrogance in handheld tool
That I could take what's learned in school
And reproduce her subtle beauty
Oh Pygmalion, you fail in duty.

[Report Error]