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.

“Demurring Haiku”

Demurring under
timeless, freezing, reeling stars
is this nascent spring.


Milky_Way_and_starry_night_sky_(26972689115)


Everything’s coming up Milhouse!

Life is … good?

It’s a nascent spring with balmy air.  I love my little Southern city and my kind neighbors.  My friends are the best.

I’ve lost some of that pot belly.  I recovered from coronavirus.  There are beautiful, amazing people in my life who enchant me and inspire me and make me laugh.  I’m getting nice compliments about my writing from strangers, and I’m excited about some new goals there.

Am I in danger of becoming happy?



Illustration of Death, Soren Lünd, 1900

Etching.

V0042256 A ghost-like figure of Death appears riding on a horse holdi
V0042256 A ghost-like figure of Death appears riding on a horse holdi Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images images@wellcome.ac.uk http://wellcomeimages.org A ghost-like figure of Death appears riding on a horse holding a scythe. Reproduction of an etching by Soren Lünd, 1900. By: Soren LündPublished: – Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Holy socks, Batman!

Or … holey socks. Time to buy more.

I have no idea why I do a number on socks the way I do. Must be my cloven hooves.

Update — a pal of mine on Facebook jumped in to suggest that I have “clown hooves,” and I think that’s an inspired rejoinder.



“Haiku for a Coy-Eyed Girl”

Feign innocence, you
sly, lascivious dove, you
feral butterfly.



800px-Léon_François_Comerre_-_Divan

“Haifa,” Léon-François Comerre

Poster for “Aliens” (1986)

20th Century Studios.

aliens

Martin Towers – Two Poems

Admin's avatarThe Galway Review

Martin Towers recently moved form Northern Ireland to Wales and now works there as a support worker. Moths are a big thing for him and the Angle Shades is his favourite.


Wasps Nest

An old man called Jimmy, nearly dead,
Gets up in a church hall and does a good dance.

A pigeon, dressed in grey, chases a crow
Who carries his mate’s egg.

A man walks into a village after fifty years.
Across a bridge.

Rain hangs in the sky like old curtains
Or ivy creepers reaching down.

The froth on the inside of a glass
Shows a man playing an accordion, with his legs wide apart.

You can take a man from the fields
But you cannot take the fields from the man.

In a place called Wasps Nest
A man remembers things.

A bird in a cage called redcap.
A girl in a shawl in cold weather

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“Repos dans les Récoltes,” William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1865

“Rest at Harvest.”  Oil on canvas.

Bouguereau-Rest_at_harvest(1865)

Can’t sleep.

So I washed my comforter and submitted four poems to The Irish Times. It’s a long shot, but hey.

The poems, I mean — not washing the comforter. That I can usually pull off.



Illustration of a man dicing with death, Christoph Weigel, 1764

A_man_dicing_with_death,_as_a_skeleton,_1764_Wellcome_L0037504