S. J. Fulton
S. J. Fulton Poems
|1.||The Hills Of Aiea||5/14/2005|
|2.||Sonnet To J.L. #1||5/14/2005|
|3.||Sonnet To J.L. #5||5/14/2005|
|5.||A Knight Curses God In The 1361 Plague||5/14/2005|
|6.||Song Of The Exiles||5/14/2005|
|8.||O Oil Slick||5/14/2005|
|9.||A Woman In A Very Hostile Land||5/14/2005|
|10.||Concerning Joe Mccarthy||5/14/2005|
|12.||Sonnet: To Emily Dickinson||5/14/2005|
Comments about S. J. Fulton
Here on this island, summer never sleeps.
In the green valleys, smoke in cane-time drifts
With mist—frail tide that laps the chasmed deeps
Between the steep clean hills as the sea-tide
Once washed the silent hidden hollow rifts
And unseen valleys of its unborn bride.
Sea-bride, child of earth’s red molten womb,
Daughter of fire and chaos long since sleeping,
Who were the people that made your green hills bloom?
Wedded to the seas they were, like you;
From the dark sea, while you your watch were keeping,
They came to make their destined ...