R.S. Gwynn
Born
Eden, North Carolina, The United States
Genre
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Poetry: A Pocket Anthology
by
21 editions
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published
1993
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Literature: A Pocket Anthology
20 editions
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published
2001
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Fiction: A Pocket Anthology: Fifth Edition
16 editions
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published
2007
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Contemporary American Poetry
by
2 editions
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published
2004
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Drama: A Pocket Anthology (Penguin Academics Series)
22 editions
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published
2004
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No Word of Farewell: Selected Poems, 1970-2000
2 editions
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published
2000
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Fiction, A Pocket Anthology: Seventh Edition
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Fiction, A Pocket Anthology: Sixth Edition
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Inside Literature: Reading, Responding, Arguing
2 editions
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published
2006
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New Expansive Poetry
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“With him died a story
That will not be retold:
How, forsaking glory,
Achilles grows old
While Hector dusts his trophies
Behind high walls-
For in his unsung strophes
Troy never falls”
― No Word of Farewell: Selected Poems, 1970-2000
That will not be retold:
How, forsaking glory,
Achilles grows old
While Hector dusts his trophies
Behind high walls-
For in his unsung strophes
Troy never falls”
― No Word of Farewell: Selected Poems, 1970-2000
“Slightly surreal, so private, so obscure
That critics classify his work as 'pure'
Because, in digging through the endless chatter
They can't discern what is the subject matter...”
― No Word of Farewell: Selected Poems, 1970-2000
That critics classify his work as 'pure'
Because, in digging through the endless chatter
They can't discern what is the subject matter...”
― No Word of Farewell: Selected Poems, 1970-2000
“Scenes from the Playroom
Now Lucy with her family of dolls
Disfigures Mother with an emery board,
While Charles, with match and rubbing alcohol,
Readies the struggling cat, for Chuck is bored.
The young ones pour more ink into the water
Through which the latest goldfish gamely swims,
Laughing, pointing at naked, neutered Father.
The toy chest is a Buchenwald of limbs.
Mother is so lovely; Father, so late.
The cook is off, yet dinner must go on
With onions as her only cause for tears
She hacks the red meat from the slippery bone,
Setting the table, where the children wait,
Her grinning babies, clean behind the ears.”
―
Now Lucy with her family of dolls
Disfigures Mother with an emery board,
While Charles, with match and rubbing alcohol,
Readies the struggling cat, for Chuck is bored.
The young ones pour more ink into the water
Through which the latest goldfish gamely swims,
Laughing, pointing at naked, neutered Father.
The toy chest is a Buchenwald of limbs.
Mother is so lovely; Father, so late.
The cook is off, yet dinner must go on
With onions as her only cause for tears
She hacks the red meat from the slippery bone,
Setting the table, where the children wait,
Her grinning babies, clean behind the ears.”
―
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