Tag Archives: J. R. Solonche

J.R. Solonche


We are so adaptable,
so amazingly adaptable,

that no matter where
we find ourselves,

we manage to make
ourselves at home,

even at home,
even there.

J.R. Solonche is the author of sixteen books of poetry and coauthor of another.


J.R. Solonche


When the man in the next room died,
his daughter gave his flowers
to the nurses, so Emily, listen to me,
when I am the man in the next room,
give my flowers to the ugliest nurse only.

J.R. Solonche is the author of ten books of poetry and a frequent contributor to One Sentence Poems.


J.R. Solonche

After a Chinese Poem

Not eager for news, I am the recluse
who will not answer the door for fear
he will open to one who comes this near
only to ask the way to another’s house.

J.R. Solonche is the author of eight books of poetry.

J. R. Solonche

If Trees Could Weep

If pine and oak, ash
and larch, sassafras
and sycamore, if all
of them could weep,
they should weep
like the weeping cherry
tree whose snow white
tears are more beautiful
than laughter.

J.R. Solonche is the author of eight books of poetry, whose work has appeared many times on One Sentence Poems


J. R. Solonche

The House to Myself This Afternoon

The house to myself this afternoon,
I could go upstairs and lie on my back
in the spare room, on the sofa, my head
on two or three pillows, my legs folded up
with somebody’s book on my knees,
in the sun from my chest up, the book
between the sun and the window shadow,
turning the pages from dark to light,
from light to dark again, the poems passing
thus between my hands from light to dark,
from dark to light, and I could lie there
for two hours or for three hours until the sun
passed altogether out of the window and I was
chest up in cold shadow, but I have done that
already, and it served its purpose,
which was to ease the pain of life, which was
to make death, for two hours or for three hours,
seem no more than a passing of one page
into another page, an easing from light into dark,
from dark into light, a leaving, so I must think
of something else I could do, something other
than this that will likewise serve its purpose,
that will likewise be a passing of a page into a page,
that will likewise be an easing from light to dark
to light, that will likewise be a leaving, a leaving.

J. R. Solonche has been publishing in magazines, journals, and anthologies since the early 70s and is the author of six poetry collections.