Egbert Simcox
Egbert Simcox Poems
Hold, testy Rabbi.
Save anathemas for more sublime sins.
I wither now without your curse.
Why no fruit?
...
Boulders flee incising blasts,
Whining diesels gather for surgery.
Mastectomy in shale and granite
Shuffled chaos of ruble and silt,
...
Your Birth, My Joy
Days are those little markers,
Like railroad ties clicking
...
Children of peasant pioneers
Hardened by wilderness and want,
Their youth in wagons or atop mules,
Called after eighty, they rode to their graves in automobiles.
...
A gentle flame to me you are,
One that warms, never singeing,
Heals, feeds, succors, lights my way.
...
Egbert Simcox Biography
A writer since grade school. Graduated from University in 1956 with a BA in political science. But English literature was my real love. Worked in federal government service. Now retired, but still write occasionally for some environmental publications and websites.)
The Best Poem Of Egbert Simcox
Accursed Fig Tree
Hold, testy Rabbi.
Save anathemas for more sublime sins.
I wither now without your curse.
Why no fruit?
My life too is given up for the Father.
Yahweh has other children - - beetles, ants.
They find sacrament in my failing sap,
In the shredding of my skin and leaves.
Goats, pied sheep and hungering waifs
Share my spotty shade in heat infernal.
My roots, never manured, struggle
To redeem dusty hardened clay
From carving winds and coursing rains.
So, I curse your curse
Just to be for two score fruitless years
Is my earnest of love, my gift to creation,
Though not fruit enough for you.
Egbert Simcox Comments
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3/6/2026 2:51:52 AM # 1.0.0
