Thursday, 5 February 2015

1 Poem by Ross Knapp

Passion fierce as the Grave

One word is needed
One, and only one
One word to live
The sole language of life

Wealth withers away
Friends are fickle
Wine’s blood wanes
Children abandon
Church deforms and conforms
Status makes mockeries of us
Power cowers at its own corruption

All of them laid waste
Lying dead in the ditch.
You sly liebe, atrocious amour
Death and hate are here--
I can hear their faint footsteps
Echoing upstairs through my head
I see Philia Eros, and Agape united--
And then I know I’m dead


Bionote

Ross Knapp is a recent college graduate with degrees in philosophy and literature. He has an experimental literary novel forthcoming and various poetry publications in Blue Lake Review, Belle Reve Literary Journal, Blood and Thunder Literary Magazine, Tipsy Lit Literary Magazine, and Clockwise Cat Literary Magazine. Originally he was planning on law school or a PHD in philosophy before deciding to pursue poetry and writing fulltime as a career. Some of the poets he admires most are Sappho, Virgil, Li Po, Hafiz, Francois Villon, Dante, Keats, Whitman, Akhmatova, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Eliot, Pound, Crane, Millay, Thomas, Sexton, Lowell, Pizarnik, Ginsberg, Plath, Gluck, and Graham.

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