Monthly Archives November 30, 2012

Argument from Design God’s antelopes have eyes placed far to side And horizontal pupils, features they Employ to see wide spans and speed away From lurking predators they’ve easily spied. But...

Sonnet If I could choose to quietly slip away and make my exit while your backs are turned I'd do it now, why waste another day, after my time is up and all my books are burned? And yet the sun beats...

NEW YORK—As a fine arts painter, Stone Roberts had all the right conditions growing up, including severe myopia as a child. This may seem ironic, but it makes sense given that a hallmark of Robert’s...

The purple snail (Purpura patula pansa) is found in the Mixtec villages of the Oaxacan Coast in Mexico. The inhabitants carefully bleed the snails and then return them to the rocks. But due to illegal dyeing...

The Playground The playground stands beside itself In grey, and waits upon the hill. The books are stones upon the shelf, Their spines are sealed against the chill. Still, the forgotten souls might...

Famous British writer, philosopher, and composer Roger Scruton reaches an above average level of aesthetic clarity here in this inspiring...

Ballade for Trains They are no more, the whistles’ longing wails, Retreating like a stately, mournful queen. Where are the smokestacks that left fading trails, The blackened engine with its oiled...

At Rainbow's End At rainbow’s end, I looked for gold; And still I search, Alone and cold: The rainbow’s gone And now I’m old.   The Hooves that Thundered The hooves that thundered...

She swings huge plates and spins colliders, Shoots particles at stars to drown, (Slides coins from ears and tax providers Which wane and wax from head to gown.) She juggles charms, scales fractal...

Tipping Point In our millenium's first dozen years, they say we’re headed for a tipping point -- a disastrous sum of many fears when Nature herself will crash and disjoint. It’s not the Mayan...

By Julie Catherine Vigna Sonnet III:  Beginnings In bare and dusty feet she wields her broom With none save cat, and creatures of the light To break the days spent work-worn in the gloom Or...

Carrying a Torch for Rhyme Rhyming is out, some poets say You can’t express yourself that way For when you try for perfect rhyme With metered words and rhythmic time It’s writing to a metronome You...

By Loetta Meister   Virginity Tender petals Tightly curled Make a rosebud Not unfurled Tender hearted Little girl Petals waiting To uncurl Lovely woman Perfect rose Given to the Man...

Enough There is a God sized hole within the innermost regions of every soul. Its dark, and it is deep, its shadows are weeping with the gnashing of teeth. We try our vain restraints to fill its...

I’ve heard it said more than once now about today’s art market and it’s worth repeating: the emperor has no clothes! The classic Hans Christian Andersen tale tells of the king convinced that he is...

Chasing the Devil I’m losing sight of what I want. I’ve lost the things I need. Danger one step ahead of me, I can’t help but proceed. Why am I drawn to such a life that brings me to my...

By Neal Whitman The reckoning at end of day. Upon a bench two minstrels meet to split the payment equally. The reckoning at end of day. Some beef and stout for each in play. (The old guitar is known to...

A Cold Truth If Love can move mountains I could move the Earth My Heart as a fountain We would never thirst If your Heart were the Sun I'd never be cold Away, I would not run With you I'd grow...

Seed Pot Seed corn, broodmare, hen: Half the earth is green, half brown. Man must plan for planting in spring to live    off the land, must harvest the rain to nurture his young, must save...

Postcard Gallery Thumbing through glossies gleaned from countless trips – Old Master paintings, drawings, and prints reduced to four-by-six impressions – we’re induced to walk through pictures....

Below is an excerpt of the last ten stanzas of Lord Byron's ‘Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,’ published originally in the 1810s. It may be read as an ode to the ocean, or perhaps an environmental...

Dawn Drums They march again to war, Sniffling, shuffling, voices muffled, Through dawn's uncertain door Youth and man, rich and poor, Through campfires' smothered smokes They march again to...

Villanelle Vows All that is in this delightful garden grows, Should happy be, and have immortal bliss.       Edmund Spenser, Faerie Queene, st. 41 Have immortal bliss. Bride and Groom:...

Street Idyll Calm is she who sits in white Because the source of her delight, Wherein the street relucts to sound Its violence, is so profound. Her subtle philosophic sense Of something new and near...

Poetry For The Common Man No wonder poetry won’t sell, Since authors write it for themselves; And most of it would fare as well On dark and dusty warehouse shelves. Such work is crammed with...