People Walter Poems

"But love's a malady without a cure."
-"John Dryden"

Forbidden Song

The jury sits, pallid and grave,
well versed in the ways of "society" and "correctness",
he appears, drowned in...

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damned patrons' victims proved helpless agonised
ministers agonised inside wombs, starlit shields of beheaded
offenders glassfuls of blood, elegant marks indelible, bricks in moonlit lorn
pits, gods' unstable...

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Scars

This land knows not what I seek,
here I am frowned upon
the glares of rejection and hate like
a thousand whips lashing on 
my arched back, my...

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Architects
-Walter Rossman

In these ruins, a peculiar place
within the rubble, sanctity abounds here
and stand you will, straight, respectful
as you see the shattered idols of a previous...

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The Executioner
-Walter Rossman

Wield I do, this executioner's blade
one could even hear the faint stirs of a violin played
with sadistic elan, and sense fear on this...

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Of Dancing Moons and Golden Waters


Of our town, little is spoken,
ours is, after all, a small hamlet
with nothing we can boast of
but a small lake,...

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sometimes you have to look after your sanity
and try to understand the laws of sequence
where before and after absolutely must preexist
perhaps consciousness cannot access its...

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He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel.  All so familiar, so ordinary.  Just...

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So proper and prim in my Brooks Broithers suit.
( I loathe that Obama! I much prefer Newt.)
Decorum at all times, when in public view.
( Dwelling...

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