Poetry

  The New Satanic Mills "And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills?"  ---William Blake Whatever’s happened to that scepter’d isle, That earth of majesty, that seat of Mars, Where aged veterans were wont to smile, And...

  Telling by Not Asking I called up somebody I knew back in school, _Beginning six decades ago. Someone I spent six years of doing things with, _But since then we’d not said hello. I asked him about his whole life, and learned facts _To a rather extensive degree, The...

  Leak Oh, versifyingʼs worthless unless you know the what and why Of saying something deep and true, or of the moon and sky. Now, nature doesnʼt interest me---no matter how celestial. The music of the spheres to me, it doesnʼt sound orchestral. Iʼm gloomy almost all the time, and...

  Shards How unexpected did that moment come; How swift and sudden did that moment pass. A fleeting touch that left my spirit numb; A shattered mirror, shards of broken glass. A moment etched into my memory As if engraved on cold, unbending stone. A passing moment in eternity; A...

  When from the Damning Writs When from the damning writs of men’s assize I flee the dock of ignorance and woe And seek my room, where walls may stifle sighs A refuge from the slings all wounded know And find, within that keep, a soft-bound treasure To hold, it...

  Mac Modernist All mortal works are destined to decline, And in this fall, doth poetry align, As all inheritance is thrown away, And our dear art is subject to decay. As Flecknoe’s kingdom, ancient and forlorn; Revived by petty princes full of scorn, Is made the lesser through the...

  Thomas Paine Publishes Common Sense   London, 1774 A man walked through the door, escaping rain. His shoes were full of holes where water trailed. “Beg pardon, sir, the name is Thomas Paine. I need some work.” He held an ad Ben nailed. His concave abdomen, curtailed In thickness,...

  Seven Sonnets of Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo Translated from French and Curated by Adam Sedia Introduction Joseph-Casimir Rabearivelo (1903-1937) was born on March 4, 1903, in Antananarivo, Madagascar. At the time Madagascar had been a French colony since 1897, when it had annexed the island kingdom. His native language was Malagasy,...

  The Measure of a Woman (or a Man) We’re measured in our mother’s womb by ultrasound to check all’s well, a heads up for an infant’s room, to know will pink or blue be swell. We’re measured on the day we’re born, when by the pound and ounce we’re...

  Encounter with My Dead Father I am holding my father’s hand so white, and in silence we walk up the whispering track. Dark figures with helmets lie out of sight, blue shapes of hands wave to me through the night--- _and I dare not look back. No purple blood...

  Two Sonnets by Nino Martoglio (1870-1921) translated from Sicilian by Joseph S. Salemi   I. Young lady, you who work embroidery At your small loom, behind the window’s glass— Tell me, why is it that you gaze at me When there in the morning I go by and pass?...

  Wall of Ice I have met an icy barrier On this pleasant journey Life That has tried to freeze my spirit In its paralyzing vice. Like an animated iceberg Sporting crystal hands and feet--- Like a SEAL that’s on a mission It intends to bring defeat. In its fist,...

  King of Poets Salaciously Saul slouches on the throne (Backbiting envy never sits upright) Since David’s victories surpass his own. The king’s hard heart and weakened faith excite Malevolence for which he won’t atone. Young David could have cured the spirit’s flaw With moving melodies from seven strings To...

  Watercolors Before her was a canvas, white as snow. Beside her, watercolors, bright and clean. For hours, she sat quiet, stared at both. And hours later, still there was no scene. No still life piece contrasting dark and light. No lovely garden Renoir, no Monet. No Autumn Blossoms, nor...

  Art and Nature The well is deep Where poets keep Their unused words, And sylvan groves Are treasure troves Of singing birds That imitate The lyric prate Of mantic bards, Which might be why The morning sky Above our yards Inspires the mind To seek and find A soaring...

  Star of Wonder We read of three Wise Men at Christmas each year Who left home on a journey in search of a King. A light in the heavens God made to appear And then told them to follow and leave everything. Like them—if you’re wise—God will give you...

  Yeonmi Park’s Advice to Americans You don’t ever want to be a country that’s like North Korea, where a massive central power makes its citizenry cower. But each year, you cede control of more and more, which is the goal of those who run in each election, so you...

  Caravaggio Light floods the window, spearing glass and Matthew. Leaning forward now, in conversation, he is called. The bright and dark, a holy mass of shadow, plays across his brow. A brilliant moment, somehow stalled in time and needing nothing more to start again. The voice implores the Saint...

  Refrigerator Bird “Say the word for penguin.” Jen Jen waited. Silence. Then I guessed: “Refrigerator bird?” Laughter shook the teacup in her hand. “Best penguin that I’ve ever heard!” In the margin of my workbook page she drew a penguin, waddling, fat. This is how she teaches. Not by...

  The Oak Trees Stunned by the sunlight on a winter day, A shock too strong to meet, I turned to look At oaks that stood in statuesque array, And somehow on their wintry limbs they took The sun’s bold light and sent it back to me. I heard no...

  A Cardinal on a Snowy Day A single cardinal, on a snowy day, Cloistered in a nearby hemlock branch Paints brilliant red onto a winter's gray His plumage, like a scarlet avalanche, O’ersweeps the eye, diverts me from a scene Of whiteness drifting down on dark green boughs. He...

  The Mayor’s a Maniac by Susan Jarvis Bryant The zodiac’s off track. The Little Bear is lost. The mayor’s a maniac. The sacred swords are crossed. The air is hot with ire. The masses are aghast. The smoke is not a liar--- The fire’s spreading fast. The blazing grapevines...

  Single Room Cigarette, 17th Floor Yale Club of Manhattan “...the earthly city glories in itself; the City of Heaven glories in the Lord.” ---St Augustine, City of God The bathroom’s tiled hexagonal, With a 1930s pedestal Unscratched, enamel, simple sink, Fine old doorknobs “click,” not clink. A polished place...

  Legacy of Light One by one, extinguished stars return to take their places in the fallen night; So long defunct, yet they faintly burn _in constellated webs of light. Imploded vanishings of dust and gas, from cold abysses of the infinite broadcasting their ghostly lives across _appropriated years of...

  The Swarm "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!" From Lord of the Flies, by William Goldring They swarm like flies, both day and night, Just itching for a chance to fight. They hear the megaphone. It gleams Like nacre shell, pearlescent white. They've come to find...

  Lament of a Poet Falsely Accused of Using AI A charlatan, a master thief am I, the ghost of Blackbeard on poetic seas, an artful dodger begging alms to please an audience, his virtue gone awry, a treasure seeker uttering a cry of 'sesame' to gather panoplies of golden...

  A Gift from the South Seven degrees outside. How can it be that clouds float northwards? It’s not arctic air that’s passing through. So then, is it the rare Antarctic breath unwarmed by tropic sea, though summer rules the south? Can that account for such a strange occurrence? “Frigid...

  New Year’s Peeve   I. Cassandra’s Countdown The Eve arrives in sequin-spangled zing. The clock ticks on as tipsy cities glitter With beams of glee eclipsing sorrow’s glare Till midnight kisses burn with bursts of spring Abloom beyond abandoned dreams that litter The gutter neath the rockets’ garish flare....

  Homage to Brigitte Bardot ---God bless Brigitte Bardot for her courage and frankness. “And God Created Woman…” yes, indeed— Was there another female who came close To how He crafted you? No man could spy A single flaw in that Parisian breed Of firm-fleshed structure right down to the...

  Dearth of Emotional Intelligence Most everyone believes they have the skill To understand and manage their emotions, But some folks’ hopeless actions truly will Lead one to wonder where they got such notions. They’ll also think that they can recognize And influence emotions others hold, Which only leads to...

    Fireflies Driving down a country road one sultry summer evening, with headlights sweeping through the little clouds of dust ahead, Caused by cars that led the way or met me in the night, I scanned the ditches, left and right, for signs to find a bed. I’d always...

  Real Poetry Free verse is naught but prose in guise. No one can tell me otherwise. Confessions, images, and aches Are less than what a poem makes. It need not rhyme but it must scan. It needs a rhythmic formal plan Which should not be Procrustean, May even be...

  Flaws Awareness of a flaw Does not negate its gnaw; It chews upon the self And cultivates itself. Investing roots so deep, And sowing seeds to reap; It puts you under a spell, And tells you, "All is well!" It bores into our minds Until the soul unwinds, And...

  Her Grace The day arrived when Edna was too blind To live alone. She gave her things away— The china owl with one glass eye—her mind Was on the bumps in sidewalk cracks that day. A flowered pitcher, empty, save for tears— She knew what faced her in that...

  Twelve Labors More Part I. And There He Was   I. And there he was! Great Socrates who knew That I knew nothing, at least that’s what he said In perfect English, never mind just how (Perhaps it’s just a dream inside my head?). He stumbled on my poorly...

  A Perfect Match is Found _Some people love the valleys. _Some people love the mountains. _Some people love the oceans. _I love the flowing fountains. _Some people love the forests, _While some people love the glens. _Some love the mountain meadows, _While I love writing pens. _Some people love...

  The Seven Crossings When I was a child, my mother sung Of verdant plains where bright light hung, Of halcyon hills in distant lands, Beyond seven rivers and silver sands. "One day we’ll cross them all," she crooned, "By boat or bridge, by sun or moon, Until we reach...

  An Open Book I pray that I may be an open book, A simple person on a simple path, Where all my words flow seamless as a brook, To find a sea of love unswayed by wrath. For to pursue You is the path that’s pure, The honest way...

Poet and painter Paul Erlandson reads his work at the Society of Classical Poets' in-person Poetry Symposium held in Naperville, Illinois on September 5-6, 2025: https://youtu.be/BzMxUMKXKyE Video created by Andrew Benson Brown.

  Otto and Octavius at Christmas Mother and Father Octopus, And Otto and Octavius, A cephalopodic family, Live in the Sargasso Sea. It’s an ordinary place With a routine, steady pace. Dad said, when came winter break, “A vacation we should take! It would be a doldrum-cure. I looked into...