Lines from the Exile: Poems for the Outcast, the Reject, and the Refugee

By Gregory Hartley

Human conflict frequently results in the ejection of the loser, yet it's the winners who usually write the stories. This collection gives voice to the loser. Through the framework of one whose life was upended by a sudden move from Florida to Alaska, poet Gregory Hartley treads the path of Exile, examining its causes and the destruction left in its wake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Jun 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781666799156

Book preview

LINES FROM THE EXILE

1. Alone in the Crowd

 . . . in which social isolation takes many forms, despite the maddening hordes.

The Scarecrow Poem

Your scarecrows

go hallooooo to the

news. They got

that moldy hay stuffed

all in their legs.

It’s like arthritis

and they howl at

it too:

Hallooooooo!

Crows and Cows

Among the corn, in the

sullen blaze of morning,

were crows.

Blasted rows and smoking hulls

held their gaze as fire swept

away both food and farmer.

A crash caused the crows to

leap skyward.

Came the dawn:

The cows had broken

the fence to survey the harm—

ruminating—

They mulled over changes.

Dim animal minds met,

a solemn pact was set.

The bell-cow looked up,

considered assets,

smelling bassets shadowed in smoke.

Move, she said, and,

perched upon their backs,

the crows rode out with the cows.

Silence is Not a Cat

(Terribly sorry, C.S.)

The cat springs

on typewriter feet.

It sits mewing at

traffic after crashing

a vase with unseen subterfuge

and licks its guilty paws.

Lines before Alexander

The world has changed—

My youthful eyes

see skies of rain.

I know the calm after sobs of pain.

The rhythm of life now rearranged

by the cry of creation or the

sting of disdain.

Ten seconds ago I was young,

now I hold youth in my hands.

I am Fate, I am a god, a king, a man.

Anonymous

Winter has come to my home

And you stand wrapped in cotton,

Swaying in the

Florida breeze looking

At the Cyprus trees,

Thoughts of spreading

Calm alone.

But the chill stiffens

In subtle tones;

Amid the needles brown

We stroll through the

Bracken and quicken