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Frozen Retreat

A Silent Knowing

Sacred Crone

Welcome Jack

Follow the Birdsong

Morning Candle

Please Live

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Remembering Spring

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

Someone Else's Paradise

April Snow

Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Archibald

In a Moment of Understanding

Shadows of December

Requiem for Yesterday

Forbidden

Visions Released

Intense Imagery (A Haiku)

For our child

Dance Upon Shadows

A Rose

Night bus home

A Comfort Sent to You

Black Lung

Restless

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

January 14th 1995

Foolish hearts

Heart to Heart

Returning Hero

Old and New

Words

Shades

Clutch

Going back

The Warrior

Facing reality

In the wind

Loyal soldier

Lifespan

Sitting

Living machine

Revolution in Bloom

Unholy Love

I Am Not Spoiled Stinky Curdled Milk

Yes, Leonard...It's Math Again Tonight

Winds of time

The Power

What

Hungry for life

Autumn

All men

Man with no name

The face at the bar

Questions

Young girl

To the sea

Mountain Morning Lakeside Fishing

Dragged

I'm Strong Enough to Thank You

Every Step

 

Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited


Germany, 1938:
The doves fell
one by one
(and good people said nothing)
then by the millions.

A generation said never again:
Dante's new circle would be
safely locked behind
museum glass

but out of the tar pits
of our worst memories, a
new Phoenix, zombie-eyed
and screeching with
rabid pride,
finds its day.

Their torches reliving
the night sanity died,
the ghosts of brown shirts
are oozing from the graves,

splitting one soul into
us and them,
we and the other.

The spawn of the fuhrer
and hypnotized legions
in lockstep,
their boots a drumbeat,
music of the damned,

live again

and what we decided
was right and wrong
is now tangled up in
new debates.

And the doves fall
one by one.

And good people say nothing.

Patricia Joan Jones





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