Edmund V. Strolis


Edmund V. Strolis
Do you like this poet?
85 person liked.
0 person did not like.


I am just getting started....... more »

Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.


Comments about Edmund V. Strolis

more comments »
---
  • Norah Tunney Norah Tunney (4/7/2017 3:54:00 PM)

    I wish I could write like Edmond Strolis original, imaginative and brilliant he is one of my favorite poets on PH.
    Poems such as seeds of wonderment a tin cup lifeor a pair of shoes open a door into the heartbreaking beauty of the most simple things.
    His sense of rhyme does not constrict it opens a wide space which is a rare gift. He is a deep thinker, a mystic, an amazing poet who draws you in to the essence of things. I agree with Theodora he is a delight to read.

  • Theodora Onken (5/9/2016 9:53:00 PM)

    Edmund, now i see what i have been missing...love your stories...and yes, your intelligence. You have the makings of a brilliant modern day poet. This site is very large and it tends to swallow many up but have been digging around and am glad because i found you! You are such a delight to read.

  • Terry Dawson (2/14/2016 10:37:00 AM)

    Here is a poet and storyteller, both, who unfolds his tales with a marvelous clarity of view and a boldness of stroke that carries the reader along enraptured! Full of freshness and novelty; Great work Edmund!

  • Pamela Sinicrope Pamela Sinicrope (11/19/2015 9:17:00 AM)

    Edmund is a poet with equal doses heart, intelligence, and passion. He conveys all of these characteristics in his writing, which spans a spectrum including, but not limited to: experimentation with language and imagery, childhood memories, love and nature, and AMAZING character portraits. Some of my favorites are his writings about Teddy Roosevelt, his mother, and what originally pulled me in: the cool side of the pillow, a tribute to a boyhood summer. I am a fan of Edmund and his work. BRAVO EDMUND!

Read all 4 comments »
Best Poem of Edmund V. Strolis

Edgar Allan Poe

They all wash over me with pitying eyes, they think that I don't see.
Yet they are only crude jagged faces on the canvas of my dreams.
Empty their wishes float, as they seem to pray my safe return.
How can they know the fever that within this prison burns.

For what is this sinister slow waltz to hell without my sweet Lenore?
My wish which any fool can guess, I must be with her once more.
How my heels find their way to that vacant tomb beyond the bedroom door.
Now I curse the promise of that desperate hour! not to join my love Lenore.

Hooves over ...

Read the full of Edgar Allan Poe
[Report Error]