Edmund V. Strolis


Edmund V. Strolis Poems

121. Party Crashers 3/12/2016
122. Punisher 3/28/2016
123. Two Bits And A Bottle Of Wine 3/29/2016
124. Tea With Carroll 4/10/2016
125. Scatter Startled Seagulls 7/2/2016
126. Soul Food 3/21/2016
127. Golden Heart 5/2/2016
128. Beautiful True Blue You 5/5/2016
129. Why Should I She Said 6/23/2017
130. Glad Shouts 6/23/2017
131. A Little Bit 6/23/2017
132. Heavy Weather- A Tale Of A Summer Storm 6/27/2017
133. One Word 9/6/2016
134. She Rests Her Eyes Upon You Softly 9/9/2016
135. Cheerio 7/26/2016
136. Choose To Choose 3/29/2017
137. The Faith To Begin Again 2/1/2017
138. The Fitful Dream 2/3/2017
139. The Clearing 10/30/2016
140. Celtic Light 4/6/2017
141. Coal Miner 4/19/2017
142. Anywhere Will Do 4/19/2017
143. Lost Visions Now Return 4/17/2017
144. Mining For Gold~ 4/12/2017
145. Pampered Snowflakes 4/23/2017
146. A Ship's Tale 4/23/2017
147. Batter Up! 5/19/2017
148. Faces In A Crowd 6/17/2017
149. The Motley Choir 6/20/2017
150. The Aging Giant 4/15/2017
151. Drifting As One 11/4/2016
152. My Wonderful Deplorable Friends 11/7/2016
153. ~christmas Snow~ 12/3/2016
154. Phobia-Phobe 6/28/2016
155. Leaning On My Fender 7/30/2016
156. To Love A Quiet Nothing Road 7/11/2016
157. Upon The Sill 12/23/2017
158. The Sliver 7/3/2017
159. ~~currents~~~~~ 8/16/2017
160. Her Eyes And Ears Were Open 5/13/2016

Comments about Edmund V. Strolis

  • Norah Tunney Norah Tunney (4/7/2017 3:54:00 PM)

    I wish I could write like Edmond Strolis original, imaginative and brilliant he is one of my favorite poets on PH.
    Poems such as seeds of wonderment a tin cup lifeor a pair of shoes open a door into the heartbreaking beauty of the most simple things.
    His sense of rhyme does not constrict it opens a wide space which is a rare gift. He is a deep thinker, a mystic, an amazing poet who draws you in to the essence of things. I agree with Theodora he is a delight to read.

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  • Theodora Onken (5/9/2016 9:53:00 PM)

    Edmund, now i see what i have been missing...love your stories...and yes, your intelligence. You have the makings of a brilliant modern day poet. This site is very large and it tends to swallow many up but have been digging around and am glad because i found you! You are such a delight to read.

  • Terry Dawson (2/14/2016 10:37:00 AM)

    Here is a poet and storyteller, both, who unfolds his tales with a marvelous clarity of view and a boldness of stroke that carries the reader along enraptured! Full of freshness and novelty; Great work Edmund!

  • Pamela Sinicrope Pamela Sinicrope (11/19/2015 9:17:00 AM)

    Edmund is a poet with equal doses heart, intelligence, and passion. He conveys all of these characteristics in his writing, which spans a spectrum including, but not limited to: experimentation with language and imagery, childhood memories, love and nature, and AMAZING character portraits. Some of my favorites are his writings about Teddy Roosevelt, his mother, and what originally pulled me in: the cool side of the pillow, a tribute to a boyhood summer. I am a fan of Edmund and his work. BRAVO EDMUND!

Best Poem of Edmund V. Strolis

Edgar Allan Poe

They all wash over me with pitying eyes, they think that I don't see.
Yet they are only crude jagged faces on the canvas of my dreams.
Empty their wishes float, as they seem to pray my safe return.
How can they know the fever that within this prison burns.

For what is this sinister slow waltz to hell without my sweet Lenore?
My wish which any fool can guess, I must be with her once more.
How my heels find their way to that vacant tomb beyond the bedroom door.
Now I curse the promise of that desperate hour! not to join my love Lenore.

Hooves over ...

Read the full of Edgar Allan Poe

The Yellow Cup

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.
but the cup of yellow still held its' brilliance, as if by angels made.

Was it true the story of a mother lost and the depth of her dear sorrow?
Empty cup waiting for a yesterday, yet too full to hold tomorrow.

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