London in 1895
~ by Charles A. Coulombe The Knights still ride against the foe, German flappers do the Charleston yet, Sherlock Holmes sees the game’s afoot, And it’s always London in 1895. We are all riding…
Category: Original Poetry
A Wild Duck on the Thames
That singular duck died along that shoreAnd yet its shadow sails across the screenDeep black against yellow, a sunset sceneA quacking intro to Saint Thomas More Ducks die, and martyrs too, but still the…
Lament of Mr. Sangreuse
~ by Charles A. Coulombe Do branches crack in Yvelines?To there I dare not wander. Elves that dance in Broceliande Shall see me there no longer. Beneath the Dryad’s calling treesNo more shall…
The Coming Winter
Winter,fast approaching.Leaves changing hue, falling.The temperature lowering.Animals scurrying,gather quicklyto sleep. (more…)
In the Year of the Comet
~ by Charles A. Coulombe The old man’s eyes of flashing bluetwinkled as he stirred our stew.“Never have you seen such as then,when the comet came in Nineteen-ten.” “The tail lit up the sky at…
In Memoriam Vini Antiqui
~ by Charles A. Coulombe [To New Mexico Military Institute] The lads with whom I drank my wine,when all the world seemed grand and fine,In the days when we were young, before our youth on…
Death in Paris
~ by Charles A. Coulombe I have lived three yearsOn the rue de CabanisAnd find myself dry. Walking down cobbled streets,Blue-and-White signs thatTell me where I am,But not where I am. (more…)
Dark Waters
~ by Charles A. Coulombe “We must pass through dark waters Before we reach the sweet.”Said Van Helsing as with heavy heartAnd aching feet, He stalked through city, moor, crypt, and fen,To catch Bloodsucker in…
