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New Poetry 

The Fortress, The Portrait, and Yesterday's Poem

New Poetry The Fortress and The Portrait

The Fortress

A Poem by Mary Margaret Park

I gained entrance to a fortress

of stone as cold as death

its dungeons echoed the essence

|of shattered lives |

I hold the key no more


I beheld a castle

in splintered rays of gold

behind its doors

the laughter of children

still I’ve had no key


I beheld a castle

filled of warmth and depth

the green of spring and security

lay along its paths

but still I’ll have no key


I beheld a man

who dreamed

beyond the sky

whose heart poured

| rivers of gold |

even then I had no key


I beheld a castle

shot with silver dawn

the promise of total freedom

my hands held all the keys

| except this once |

at last I held the key

Rose by James Cameron

The Portrait

A Poem by Mary Margaret Park


Bare, she stretches out

Inviting his artistic expression

Her figure sketching an impression upon the cotton sheet


His charcoal grey eyes linger

With detailed wonder

Drinking in each curve and nuance of her outline


In folded silhouette he traces her portrait with his eager hands

Unsure of where to begin

So many places to draw from

Each one inviting his depiction


He illustrates her soft arcs with bold strokes

As he begins to render her image

And wonders at the adventure of its completion

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Yesterday's Poem for my sister

    A Poem by Mary Margaret Park

yesterdays flash by in a matter of seconds

like stars falling from the sky

and the echoes of childhood

have receded like distant thunder

a storm of another kind reigns nigh

and its passage holds no comfort


slices of time flash before us

moments of triumph and sorrow

indelible reflections

of the people in our lives

each person’s influence an imprint

that forever binds

shaping the lenses, we see through

into unique prisms 


we are surrounded by echos of past and present

on this occasion the echoes have grown faint and fast

their cadence whispering in foreign tongues

as the familiar becomes unfamiliar

who we are and what we will become

like the black leopard’s spots

inherent and

ever changing

The Fortress, The Portrait, and Yesterday's Poem
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