Articles written by G B Dent

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About me - G B Dent

Poetry (and let no man tell you different) is what separates us from the beasts. It is the gateway to our soul, and the evidence of our immortality. It is but a remnant of that heavenly spark bestowed upon us in the garden. It exists equally in the most

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Life: 36 of 1104

Solstice XIII In that season when the lamp of heaven swings, Out to the extreme of its pendulum's beam; To the north in summer long twilight it brings, While in the south in winter begetting dreams. I have yet to know whether that wandering orb, Might find the wisdom to slacken its pace. And somewhere between fiery and frigi...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Alone: 21 of 264

Twilight... How dare you disturb my choir of crickets? I sit alone outside in the dark for a reason. Watching for the night with vagrant eyes; It's dark enough that I don't have to look At you, or anything else in particular. Still, you speak endlessly of nothing; You should at least keep time with the cadence. While I train...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Love: 59 of 718

Chasing Venus I give chase to her in the morning before the daybreak comes. As she rises very early wrapped in robes of celestial white. And although it's well known she closely follows the Sun. Tis' for me, and my joy only that she awakens in the night. No matter the weather, if neither star nor pale moon beams; I've long b...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Trees: 19 of 220

A Marriage A maple and pine grew side by side In a forgotten field of timothy grass. Unnoticed until I happened to pass Not far from where they chose to hide. Just two little twigs sharing the sun, On a summers day many years ago. I never thought that they would grow, Much less one day bloom into one. But later I saw their s...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Missing a loved one: 17 of 192

Patricia O'Brien (A recollection of St Patrick's Day 1961) As a boy I was taught in our Catholic school That the road to peace and joy of Heaven. Was paved by nuns with a thousand rules, Strict adherence required by boys of seven. God bless those ladies for their gentle yoke. And I did my best though never knew why. On the r...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Nature: 64 of 578

Hush Hush, and listen to the rush of wings as they pass by Ghostly silhouettes painted on a gray November sky. Geese seeking refuge in an oft-repeated theme Hidden by a fence of trees, on yonder pond or stream. Hush, and hear the mournful sound as they draw near. Skimming treetops, their honking tells us they are here. Race ...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Nature's seasons: 22 of 164

October Wood When October comes I wish I could feel, like the leaves of June have lost their appeal. When the green of summer has faded to red. When orange and purple cover the flower bed, and limbs in the breeze rattle leaves overhead, I grudgingly admit that summer is dead. In March when the ice slowly makes a retreat, and...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Autumn: 33 of 198

Perseus Rising or First Frost Oh, how the mild September wind plays gently with the leafy limb. That rocking with such sweet caress makes cradles for the sky. Weaving mattresses of green and blue so I beneath may float within, To wait and watch for summers end, with fair and soft good-bye; So fades evening in mellow light, t...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Fairy tales: 27 of 134

The Wizard And The Fly.... There was a Wizard visiting a peaceful land Who stayed as a guest in the grandest palace. Of a king who ruled with a gentle hand With a beautiful queen who bore none malice. This Wizard found a fly in his cup of mead While he feasted with royal guests surrounding And getting quite bored with the pr...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Experiencing nature: 44 of 209

A Summer Theme My dawn is dressed in pearly dew That shimmers on golden beams. Showered o'er the grass and leafy limb By fairies in August dreams. My noon is sky that boasts azure, With but a single cloud to fly. It pauses on its windward tack As if to ask me why? My August dusk is perfumed dust Distilled from the heat of th...