Poetry

  Sabin Howard ---who created A Soldier's Journey at the National World War I Memorial in Washington, D.C. He steps off of the airplane of the gods, in black tee shirt, sun glasses and black shorts, and stops. Beneath the cirrus clouds, he nods. It's hard to say what he...

  Ode to a Dragonfly High in the torrid, torpid dog-day air A shape, elusive, skeletal, darts by--- Yet elongated, elegant, sleek, fair--- A rarity that grabs the languid eye: Delicate, opalescent, like etched glass, Borne on four gossamer wings spanning wide, Delicate lacework intricately spun. Of all the swift-winged,...

  Hobby Horse Not like the winged stallion of Greek fame with Olympic wings aloft from sky to sky. Here, at our green graffiti’d gates, you’ll spy an equine likeness on a stick, whose mane is spun of extruded crude, and her name just might be Karen. From her button...

  Big Cat Dance In my home state of Michigan _They rip up all the roads To vex the heart of every man _Who kicks against the goads. I curse and huff and I deride _Each time I lose a lane. They did it on the Southbound side, _And now...

  Freedom’s Wring _When God seems to fail _The world starts to wail, And saints go marching home Like Sprites on ocean foam. _When children die _And none know why, They blame a chromosome, Or cite a dusty tome. _And folks accept. _The most inept Enablers of them all Are...

  Island of Poets Settlers came from Thessaly, eastward sailing Far as Lesbos, loveliest isle regaling Grateful hearts with poetry countervailing ___Laughable wailing. Lesbos means “desirable.” It’s magnetic. Tour the creativity sympathetic: Local ouzo fortifies energetic ___Spirits poetic. Here the lyrist Térpander, singing clearly, Fathered Grecian musical modes by dearly...

  Military Quatrains, or the Modern Archilochus εἰμὶ δ’ἐγὼ θεράπων μὲν Ἐνυαλίοιο ἄνακτος, καὶ Μουσέων ἐρατὸν δῶρον ἐπιστάμενος. "I am a servant of the Lord of War, And I also know the lovely gift of the Muses." —Archilochus I rammed a loaded magazine In my empty M-16. Luckily I fired...

  The Secret Rose Somewhere unknown there grows A multifoliate rose Whose petals are arranged In symmetries unchanged By vagaries of time. Its pattern is sublime: It makes geometry A form of artistry And all the petals hold A single dewdrop, rolled Into a perfect ball— Each one reflecting all....

  The Family Archive With moldy hand through tender shards I graze In boxes, old and dusty, some collapsed, And gently now curate chaotic stuff, In decades gathered, then in time forgot. The pictures, clippings, postcards, angry notes, The scribbles, artwork, essays, bank receipts, Notebooks, papers, scrapbooks, letters, missives… Accumulated,...

  Pedagogy Some claim the moon is made of cheese —No farting, please, it’s unrefined— Whose surface is a softened rind Kept in kind by a cosmic breeze. This would explain so many things —No giggling, Miss Goose, stay behind— That Science still struggles to find: Is the Sun male,...

  Who are the Villains? I hate to be a Hollywood belittler, And yet, you ever notice how The stock bad guy in films is always Hitler, And never Stalin, Lenin, or Mao?     Guilty as Charged ---“Look at the forensic astrology for the event… Basically states that he...

  Isle of Romance O Isle of Romance, what a fanciful thought, _Most surely a sensual place--- Capri, Catalina, Tahiti or Crete _Where ardent, young lovers embrace. For poets and painters, an Isle of Romance _Is simply an artistic goal--- A yearning, a dream, an intangible reach, _A vision arousing...

  Professional Mourner Good morning, friend. I didn’t catch your name. Ah. Tod. So you’re the new kid on the block? It’s good to see fresh faces now and then. You’re nervous? Is this really your first time? I know you’re young, but grandparents? An aunt? Not ever? You’re a...

  A Midsummer Night's Dream Whose dream are they, these four Athenian lovers whose mad misunderstandings mock each other? Moonstruck puppets in a fairy play, bemused and lovesick sleepwalkers astray across the borderlands of night and day, manipulated wits not rediscovered till horns halloo the dawn. till horns halloo the...

How the Mighty Fell! ---King David’s dirge for the previous King of Israel and his son: King Saul and Jonathan who died at the battle of Mt. Gilboa (2 Samuel 1:19-27) On your heights, O Israel, is sprawled a slain Gazelle. O how the mighty fell! O how the mighty...

  The One Lone Juror ---for the very brave man who refused to acquit Lindsay Clancy of the crime of murdering her three small children You did not listen to the whines and pleas— You did not let emotion blind your vision. Like one small ship, storm-tossed on raging seas,...

  Soul of a Prophet: A Trialog “But the house of Israel will not listen to you…” ---Ezekiel 3.7. “Well, how exciting. How delightful. Here’s a formula for sheer disaster if there ever was one. I’m afraid I have a bad, bad feeling about all of this.” “I think your...

  Nelson and George ’Twas Providence granting old Nelson to George, Like how he survived at the Valley of Forge. Young George was a horseman who knew well the breeds And shone like a knight when he rode atop steeds. With Nelson’s physique and undauntable style, The horse was the...

  When She Arrives A house is born of bricks and stone, Of measured walls and polished floor; It keeps the rain, withstands the storm, Yet still it longs for something more. The windows wait with silent eyes, The empty rooms forget to sing; A roof may shelter flesh and...

  On to Better Days In this 250th year of the USA, this nation of 340 million goes its way. Which way that is, nobody knows. How could somebody know? There are too many individuals to make that so. Each person has life, liberty, pursuing happiness, and goes about their...

  Serenade __Late summer’s twilight skies Hum with the song of a thousand faint voices--- _A choir of myriad sprites that rejoices __In shadow and moonlight. _Loud it resounds, though it lies Deep in bough-shadows hidden. Like a dream _The silhouetted treetops themselves seem __To serenade the night. __Now listen---hear...

  Self-Exploration The furthest shores within my mind are lands whose sands I must explore— becoming a conquistador; to do this quest I am inclined. Deposits await to be mined for gems whose worth are rare, therefore, the furthest shores within my mind are lands whose sands I must explore....

  Victory With darkness cast on fertile lands, The men took muskets in their hands And wives took charge of farms and fields. They hoped for peace and blessed yields. And then, the King sent forth, by night Relentless waves of crimson blight That raided homes and burned the towns,...

  The Cristero Centennial In Mexico a hundred years ago, The government forced secularization. Its liberal politicos roared “No!” To worship and religious education, To convents, vows, processions, celebration Of marriages and funerals that show Devotion in a Christian civilization. The communistic head of state and crew Were ruthless hypocrites...

  A Potpourri of Aphoristic Verses   Confronted with the truth, some will embrace it, While others, sadly, will refuse to face it. * The underestimation of a rival Is not the surest pathway to survival. * When power brokers squint and get all pensive, The huddled masses grow more...

  The Estuary —at the “seaside” resort of Southport, England, where the sea is always miles away I must have been just nine or ten, I really can’t remember when We’d travelled from our smoky town, Upon the beach, we settled down, Beside the rolling estuary, We seldom caught a...

  A World Without the Wednesday Child "Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for a living. But the child that is born...

First Prize: $2,000. Publication on the Society's website and Journal.   Submission Fee: $20 (The fee comes with a free subscription to our monthly e-Newsletter.)   Submit: One poem on any topic. The poem should not be more than 108 lines. First click here to pay the submission fee, then...

. First Prize: $250. Publication in the Society's website and The Society of Classical Poets Journal. . Submission Fee: $10 (The fee comes with a free subscription to our monthly e-Newsletter.) . Submit: One poem on any topic after you pay the $10 submission fee. The poem should be no...

  Realistic Reflections Mirror, mirror, tell me truly: Do I still have charm to tempt? Are these locks downright unruly, Or, maybe, “pleasantly unkempt”? Are these eyes that one may drown in, Or just heavy-lidded puddles? Will these wrinkle lines from frownin’ Hinder me from winning cuddles? Can I arch...

  China Made She sits before her grey machine, _knits, cottons, or brocade; with sweating she begins to sew _to create China made. Her stitches— even, fine, and tight _without due accolade; her nimble fingers graft and grind, _in sewing China made. I see her in my mental eye, _I’m...

  The Savage Moon The clouds... Tonight they hide her, but she’s there: A savage, ghostly horse without a rider. The elders claim, “A feral, vengeful mare Who menaces and circles ever wider To blight the night!” I quake! This is no myth Of frightened men, no cloak of words...

  Reviewed Poetry Book: Love Found, Yearned For, and Lost by James A. Tweedie by Theresa Werba I have had the pleasure of knowing James Tweedie and his poetry since 2017 when his first poem appeared at the Society of Classical Poets. I have always found an authenticity and truthfulness...

  When Opportunity Knocks “Opportunities are like flies. We kill most of them.” ---Roy E. Peterson We all have heard the phrase, “Opportunity knocks at our door.” Yet sometimes stubborn, it must knock us to the floor. Perhaps we’re in pajamas and will not let it in. Because we’re not...

  Legend of the Griffin Akin to giants of Greek fame _Who ruled the ancient world, He held the minds of mortal men— _A marvel to behold: An eagle’s beak, a piercing eye, _A freedom-loving wing, A lion’s frame, a fearless heart, _The valor of a king. The ancients loved...

  Government Issue Found in a junkshop, nestled in between Dark bottles and some ill-assorted scraps: A battered thing, its cover (olive green) Showed verdigris along the old brass snaps. The maker’s stamp read 1942. U.S. was stenciled on the canvas case, And in the thick aluminum, ARZEW Then SICILY...

  Chaucer Announces His Desire to Retire Whan that passing years and Father Time’s made difficulty in my finding sounds… rhymes! that to the ear are similar; and ere a line’s complete I place an eye-rhyme here to mark its termination, but end up—oft seems— with six iambic feet, not...

  Advantages of Restaurants Food quality has dropped, Price rises have not stopped, Selections are decreased, Most portions aren’t a feast. Yet still I have to say I didn’t cook today.     The Most Educational Dinner If I could welcome any five folks from world history, To dinner, where...

  Bone China My dear ones soon to marry, if you’re able Do plan good dishes for your dining-table: Selecting china for your registry Requires that you do not choose foolishly. Bone china’s beauty and utility Embody strength, and not fragility. As Noritake’s teacup, eggshell-thin Appears too delicate to hold...

  On the Death of One Too Young to Die It’s been some years now but the month is still _Entire given to her memory: In August born and August died, she will _No writ of clemency Bestow on those of us who loved her well And still too deeply...