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Unpublished Poetry Series: The Thunder-Spirit

  The Thunder-Spirit Night time--the orange Clouds withhold oncoming rain; Afar the thunder Lingers to oblivion: Restless are the ways That fulfill unspoken dreams Their lives amongst us, As time that summons passing As a startled bird To wake us in the moonlight Of a winter sleep. Douglas Thornton

Book Review: Woodland Poems

Woodland Poems has been reviewed in India and is in this month's issue of Ashvamegh International Journal of English Literature .  If James Sale's review (click here to read)  didn't give you a desire to read these poems last time, this one surely will--please follow the link below to read the review. Book Review by Alok Mishra

Book Review: Woodland Poems by Douglas Thornton

Woodland Poems has been reviewed!!  Please go here to read what has been said:   Woodland Poems Book Review By James Sale

Wapiniwiktha: The Prophet's Exile

Here are the opening lines of a poem entitled: Wapiniwiktha; The Prophet's Exile-- published in Woodland Poems. There is a force connects one to the end Of all things, that before the end We may learn of it, and to us define Of beauty, love, philosophy; To make of intelligence more than what It is—divine—and by that broad Effort leave a trace upon the present Of which all must experience: The loss thereof; a loss that we may count As meaningless until it fools The heart of a greater man; the repute Wherewith, from his maternal tribe Outcast, the prophet Wapiniwiktha Was lately stung. Douglas Thornton

A Biographical Remark in Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis

An essay invoking the cognitive relationship between Shakespeare's biographical life and Shakespeare's poetical life found in his narrative poem: Venus and Adonis . ‘And lo I lie between the sun and thee’ (Venus and Adonis; line 194) To see the poet in the act of composition, to hear his words tell not only the story, but with imaginative zeal, recount the inner movements of his life, makes prejudice relax, and involves the reader in a fantasy that was at one time lived and deeply felt. Be it that each successive experience, in time, becomes poetic, or that the perception of our thoughts be seen through poetry, the dull aspects of life are but a mask to our feelings and lead us into paths that give semblance to lesser hours. That we may see and find something true, not about the story, but about the man, testifies, in mind, to that in which all great poets have taken part, that in writing the story or the verses of another, he sees his spirit live in the exot