‘The Federal and the Doric’ and Other Poetry by Alexander King Ream The Society July 29, 2018 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 6 Comments The Federal and the Doric The Federal and the Doric Combined a stern austere; They frowned upon the quad; They spread a healthy fear. Corinthian and Victorian Looked at the ground downcast; No one liked their whimsies; Their fancies would not last. Mars Mars, the stars a redness adds, Far from war, he’s bled the lads, Still his kill, the distance naught, For them, who him, his glance has caught. Old Home Place, Final Day We took the home place down today, A little thought, a little pray; For what, back in the day, was wrought, Homemade or grown, then what we bought, And in the shadows, at the last, Presently, I saw the past: My folks as me, who made me thus Sadness, laughter, work and fuss. We took the home place down today, But what they built still walked away, Not shuttered, roofed or even floored; I’m just a building for the Lord. Turning, Burning, Churning In a dream, I turned from sin, Resolving not to fail again, And in my dream I saw the myth In all its real and churning pith. Above the dream there spun a wheel And burned an engine wrought of steel; Though right, it wrenched from wrong and ill, And sight and stench were awful, still. Alexander King Ream, formerly known under the penname Neal Dachstadter, is a poet living in Tennessee. His work has been printed in Decanto Poetry Magazine (UK), Western Viewpoints and Poetic Images: the Great American West (Woodinville, Washington), Society of Classical Poets Journal 2015 (Mt Hope, New York), Rocky Point Times (Puerto Peñasco, Mexico) and The Lyric (Jericho, Vermont). A member of the Demosthenian Literary Society at the University of Georgia, he deployed to Hawija, then wrote on Lookout Mountain, continuing with Delta Kappa Epsilon International. Berkeley, Ann Arbor, and Athens encouraged him as a writer. In 2015 he wrote in Arizona at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument five miles north of Mexico. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 6 Responses David Paul Behrens July 29, 2018 One of these poems reminds me of an old bluegrass song, which contains the line: “I’m workin’ on a building, for my Lord, for my Lord.” Reply C.B. Anderson July 29, 2018 D.P., I know that song. I’m a big fan of Bluegrass music, especially Bluegrass Gospel. I’m pretty sure that Bill Monroe covered that song at least once. Reply DPB August 1, 2018 The song is called Working On a Building, recorded by Monroe in 1954, but the original version was by the Carter Family who recorded it in 1934. I first heard it from a group called Old & In the Way. Leo Yankevich July 29, 2018 I like “Turning, Burning, Churning” the most. Reply David Watt July 30, 2018 “Turning, Burning, Churning” appeals to me because it links a dream, which is intangible, to the solidity of steel. This makes for a satisfying contrast. Reply Alexander Ream March 7, 2019 Thank you Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.