Where Old Fliers Come to Roost

Ancient Eagle Press

Poem of the Month


  January 2019 -- I'll Never Say Goodbye

  December 2018 --  Graandpa

  November 2018 -- Meditation

  October 2018 -- Benediction

  September 2018 -- Passages

  August 2018 -- Feeding the Beast

  July 2018 - One Can Have Knowledge...

  June 2018 -- The Unsinkable Molly Drown

  May 2018 -- Advice to my Grandson

  April 2018 -- Awaiting Idunn

  March 2018 -- Flight

  February 2018 -- Lakesong

  January 2018 -- Schrödinger's Cat

  December 2017 -- Daybreak

  October 2017 -- Night Watch

  September 2017 -- The Princess

  August 2017 - Pelham

  July 2017 --  Siena

  June 2017 -- Loyal, Straight, and True

  May 2017 --  A Thousand Flowers

  April 2017 -- Oboe Rap

  March 2017 - March Madness

  February 2017 -- The Cost of Doing Business

  January 2017 -- Reflection at a Winter Window

  December 2016 -- The Creation

  November 2016 -- Hemolymph Moon

  October 2016 -- Vortex

  September 2016 -- Do You?

  August 2016 -- Sailing
  July 2016 --  Mulberries
  June 2016 -- Off Tucker Point
  May 2016 -- Unforgettable
  April 2016 -- At Night She Cries

February 2019

Each month Ancient Eagle Press offers a poem appropriate to the season or the mood of our editorial staff.   Poems may be new or drawn from existing AEP editions.

                        To My Valentines, Past and Future

  Time has flown, or yet flies to meet us  
  As our lives move together, move apart,
  Exist in parallel, converge, merge,
  Expand, contract and divert through life’s mysteries.

  We have been friends, family, strangers, lovers,
  Have shared moments, hours, years or just a glance,
  We have met, are yet to meet, perhaps will meet again.
  Some of you have held my hand; all have held my heart.

   I have written songs to you,
  Celebrated you in poetry (locked closely away),
  Talked to you in the quiet of the trees, the pounding of the surf,
  Or only in the silence of my shell.

  Each of you is part of the mosaic of my heart.
  When it was torn, you were the balm,
  When it sang with joy, you were the harmony,
  And still we move together with every beat.

  As past, present and future are entwined,
  So are our lives.  I am me because of you,
  I love you as I know myself,
  And will be of you when time comes round again.


   Lee Alloway

   from "Swatting Gnats", 2012