Frank Lewis


Biography of Frank Lewis

My knowledge of poetry is shallow, my experience mostly pertaining to the work of Poe, whom I respect immensely. My work itself, though inspired by no specific writer, is extracted from my notions of beauty, which is in turn inspired by the ideals outlined in Poe's 'Philosophy of Composition.' I find the mere contemplation of the human struggle to be fascinating, and in many cases, moving to tears. I am captivated by dreams, desires, and tragic introspection. The macabre, although often accused of being unsatisfying and even taboo, is the second purist form of beauty, only to true love; however, such a subject is too inexplicable to be encapsulated sufficiently in mere words. My poetic style primarily is void of rhythm and rhyme, as I have not yet grown to utilize them effectively. Rather, I enjoy experimentation with both structure and technique, striving, to the best of my feeble abilities, for each of my poems to be a varied, original experience that draws the reader closer to a comprehension of beauty.

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Twelve Fields Of Ash

In the town by the Rocky Mountains, the Fire burned at midnight.
Those homes in wonder, gazing at the Knight,
Now lie as Twelve Fields of Ash.
Where there were walls, rise walls of fire;
Where there were rooms, sleep plumes of smoke;
Where there were colors, Ash is painting black.
And the Fire; the Fire rages on.

Cease, great Wind; I demand!

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