Home sweet home Latest site info Poetic stuff Serious stuff Funny stuff Topical stuff Alternative stuff Shakespearian stuff Musical stuff
  click here for a "printer friendly" version

New Poems
by Richard Schnap


Traveled Path


The Greeks believed

That we face our past

While our future waits behind us


And so I see a room

With a door that won’t lock

And windows that can’t be opened


Where love is a shadow

That emerges in the dark

In a bed too small to hold it


While an orange sunset

Paints the bare walls

Till they seem to be made of gold


And as I stand looking

I feel at my back

A wind neither hot nor cold


That carries a voice

In a strange language

That seems to both laugh and cry





a line, (a short blue one)




She clutches her cane

Like a lover’s hand

To guide her over

The ice-thick bridge


That leads to the church

She’s known since birth

Where her baptismal tears

Were first washed away


But now as the hours

Of her life contract

In the grip of the winter

That may be her last


She wraps tight her scarf

In the frigid wind

As the trail she leaves

Surrenders to the snow




a line, (a short blue one)


Fresh Shadows


She sees the world

Through a smeared lens

Where the faces she passes

All melt into one

But it does not matter

For their words betray

Monologues of madness

From the same sad script


Where the young girls rage

At what they cannot own

But only can steal

When no one is looking

As the black clock spins

Withering their youth

While no one hears them

Weeping in the night




a line, (a blue one)


Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.


© Winamop 2016