Duane Locke, Doctor of Philosophy in English Renaissance literature, Professor Emeritus of the Humanities, was Poet in Residence at the University of Tampa for over 20 years. His work appears hundreds of journals (print and online) and numerous collections of his poetry have been published as well. He is also a painter and photographer.

His recreational activities are drinking wine, listening to old operas, and reading postmodern philosophy.

(Photo and Bio provided by Duane Locke.)

 

Poetry by Duane Locke

JANUARY POEMS, NO. 18

In a land of dry wells,
No one could understand
Why the water departed.
Everyone stared down into the dry wells,
Saw only white, wrinkled sand.
Why did the water leave
Was the question
Creasing the forehead
Of each silent questioner.
The few that heard the answer,
Became frantic,
Went beserck,
Ran wildly, trying to find
A donkey to kiss,
But all donkeys
Had been chased away long ago. 


JANUARY POEMS, NO. 19 

In a small German,
White sausage town,
A man wearing a forlorn hat
Plays a hurdy-gurdy. 

He plays the hurdy-gurdy
Because he is hungry.
If he was offered food,
He would refuse. 

If he were not hungry,
He could not play the hurdy-gurdy. 


JANUARY POEMS, NO. 20 

When Parmigianino painted St. Catherine,
He stressed the beauty of her breasts,
But Catherine selected the au courant hedonism
Of being tortured on a wheel
Rather than being touched by a lonely hand. 


JANUARY POEMS, NO. 21
 
In Rome's Panthenon,
Metal doves fly
Over Raphael's tomb,
But Raphael's bones
Cannot hear
The flutter of the metal wings.. 



JANUARY POEMS, NO. 22 

I always thought the ancients in error
When the ancients portrayed Love
As a young boy, a blind cupid,
Who stood on a pedestal and shot arrows. 
Love should be portrayed
As an old man with his face buried in his hands,
Sitting naked and shivering alone in a cold room.

 

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