Best Straight Backed Poems

Hall of Silent Women

in valhala
in a far corner
of this martial paradise
is one small unobtrusive hall
above the heavy iron door
these words are faintly inscribed

“ the war department
 regrets to inform you
that your son……
has been killed 
in action, in defence of……”

women 
silent
row upon row
straight backed, tight lipped,...

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A leader looks forward
  He doesn't look back
Makes tough decisions
  Rarely backtracks

He's not always right
  And he's sometimes unwise
Yet he admits his mistakes
  He deals not in lies

He has his core values
  When he speaks, he inspires
He may not be...

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She is cool, straight-backed, circumspect. She doesn’t ooze emotion. She orders green eggs and lamb, and lets the joke speak for itself, not offering a gratuitous laugh. Relentless in her pursuit of authenticity. She is seduced by the obvious. Using her stature to reshape the...

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I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he...

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Pete had an ordinary funeral, nothing ostentatious or showy.
Two straight backed strangers appeared in his small Iowa church.
They were dressed in Air Force uniforms.
They hugged each other for a long time.

Another soldier gone, one said.
Our brother said the other.
These three had been the only survivors...

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The sisters passed 
in the garden
on the way to chapel,
their heads bowed,
their voices hushed,
faced concealed 
by wimples
stiff as cones 
in the twilight.
The evening bell tolled,
peaceful and reverent 
as an affirmation,
ancient 
as the stone walls
dressing in their habits,
as brides donning green.
Soon all was quiet;
no more rustling...

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On A White Stool

You know there is no turning around, 
no pausing in any way, because the path to the woods,
where the sky demons make their homes, 
has been flooded by the blue rivers there, 
which flow by like glaciers on fire, 
with life clinging...

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There are all kinds of poverty
and no sin in being poor
yet, beauty in its truest form
always will endure.

Disparity has its price to pay
when greed becomes the lure.
How we handle lucre, it seems,
tells others who we are.

There’s poverty in China
and capitalism too,
yet, the desire to level...

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Wrapped in the aromatic blossoms 
of a modern-farmed orange 
orchard, a four-room shack in Visalia, 
California rises above the hard 
pan and overgrown rose bushes. 

The once palatial bell tower 
of Taurusa School, peaks 
over the sun painted, 
fruit lavished branches.

It once christened
the ceiling-less, blue...

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He was jaded with prostitutes.
The young ones were vacuous,
their bodies unleavened bread.
The mature models scored
by the violence of disappointment.
Both the naive and the world-weary
were dull molds.

The sculptor and anatomist, 
delved deeply into the inquiry of form.
As an artist he craved perfection;
a risen Venus, immaculate.

He dissected,...

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Up in the above
roof gardens pluck air out of thoughts.
Changelings run between
brick walls
one is dead-eyed and evermore shall not see
yet it grows itself upon a dendritic tree
to hear what the empty places speak of.

Long moved furniture’s leave there after-images
they remain as stains upon inlayed grains.
inside...

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A straight-backed chair shadow-plays
a dark cello,
while emptiness falls
as heavy as a rain cloud.

An oak wood floor creaks
as a spectral bow
is moved by a shifting light.

The room once harbored a grand piano
it plays now to the mindful,
yet only as a distant echo,
a long past refrain

heard once...

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He was weary of prostitutes.
The young ones were vacuous,
their bodies unleavened bread.
The mature models scored
by the violence of disappointment.
Both the naive and the bitter
were dull molds.
He had dissected women, both old and girlish.

On moonless nights carried their corpses,
on muffled barrows to his garret.
By the light...

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Soft heart shaped face,  
Piercing eyes speckled head, 
Running out of control, 
Pacing ahead.

Straight backed chairs, 
Hard wooden desks, 
Permanently inked on my heart, 
Their looks have such an effect....

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