All posts by Eric Robert Nolan

Eric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. He spent several years a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. His work has also appeared on the front pages of numerous newspapers in Virginia, including The Free Lance – Star and The Daily Progress. Eric entered the field of philanthropy in 1996, as a grant writer for nonprofit healthcare organizations. Eric’s poetry has been featured by Dead Beats Literary Blog, Dagda Publishing, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere. His poetry will also be published by Illumen Magazine in its Spring 2014 issue.
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“In Rapture,” Franciszek Żmurko

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Oil on canvas.

Żmurko_In_rapture

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Photo of President James Monroe’s law offices, Frances Benjamin Johnston, 1927

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Fredericksburg, Virginia.

President_Monroe's_law_offices,_Charles_Street,_Fredericksburg,_Virginia._Street_entrance_LCCN2008675912

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Cover to “Justice League” #1, Terry Austin & Kevin Maguire, 1987

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DC Comics.

jl

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the outside-the-dressing-room haiku:

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How fortunate are
those garments, wrapped, as they are,
on your curvature.

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Fashion (Mode), color lithograph by Otto Lendecke, 1912

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“Wounded Amazon,” Franz von Stuck, 1904

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Oil on canvas.

Franz_von_Stuck_-Wounded_Amazon,_1903

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“A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.”

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“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring.”

— Oscar Wilde

640px-Oscar_Wilde_1883

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I feel seen.

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Somebody wrote me a note and wrote “Nolantheless” as a segue.

Oh, BRAVE new world that has such people in it.

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“Women and books would teach his middle age/The fencing wit of an informal style.”

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“Vocation,” by W. H. Auden (Part XII of “The Quest”)

Incredulous, he stared at the amused
Official writing down his name among
Those whose request to suffer was refused.

The pen ceased scratching: though he came too late
To join the martyrs, there was still a place
Among the tempters for a caustic tongue

To test the resolution of the young
With tales of the small failings of the great,
And shame the eager with ironic praise.

Though mirrors might be hateful for a while,
Women and books would teach his middle age
The fencing wit of an informal style,
To keep the silences at bay and cage
His pacing manias in a worldly smile.

English-poet-W-H-Auden-142365632626


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“Last Flowers,” Jules Breton, 1890

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Oil on canvas.

'Last_Flowers'_by_Jules_Breton,_Cincinnati_Art_Museum

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