Author The Society

. Cicada Serenade Boys hang their beat on the heat of the summer. Sticky days twang with their thick, tinny ring. Banshee crescendos and thrums from each drummer Shiver mesquites where the mockingbirds...

. Supply and Demand Infinite happiness isn’t available. Something so precious just isn’t that scalable. Boundless dismay, though, is much more attainable. Being uncoveted, pain is quite gainable. . . Off...

. Where Virtue Dies In the city of Washington, where virtue dies in the immoral sewage as it putrefies, those who tell the most brazen, despicable lies, and accumulate sound bites that self-aggrandize, trade...

. Dante in Modern Times If I were Dante, and the quest were mine To reprise chapters of his Comedie For modern times, perhaps no less Divine For being steeped in modern tragedie, I’d start with Hell, where...

. Recipe for a Poem Scraped clean of glib and warty observation, On pristine paper place one piercing thought. Add in the fragrant oil of concentration, Simmer in meaning. When the blend you sought Requires...

. Coupled in Rhyme She sees me better than I do, so in her sight I strive to be worthy to lie with, never to lie to. She knows me better than my best, brings comfort to my days, makes manifest the loving balm...

. The High Priest's Homily Once Man, in thrall to ignorance, believed the world was round, But now we know that everything is one vast sea of sound, __And what seemed solid ground Is but an anxious emptiness,...

. Clouds Over Skye Vast mounting clouds rise over peak and vale; Their shifting billows filter noonday´s beams, Which pierce the spectral haze, so wispy pale, And flood the hollow, where a wee tarn...

. Circling In It’s time (I tell myself) we circled in;Gave up at last the overwrought concernThat pulls us this-way-that till we begin To lose the human power to discernWhat truly holds and what has little...

. For All Who Labor by Christine de Pisan (1364-c. 1430) Lady, fair branch where God’s grace blooms,Our labors, Saint Bernard assumes,Are benefited by your taskTo help those who ply hoes or broomsWhen night...

. Garden Party The sparrows near the feeder flit and preen While predators politely quit the scene. A mockingbird is chirping up a storm, And soft drinks on the cart are getting warm. The worms beneath the...

. Married to the Mob He’s going out again today. What for? His hundredth chance to settle some old score? “Damn this! Screw that! Free cash! Free hash! More war!” It seems some things just never change,...

. Wisdom of Reagan: Government Waste “Government is like a baby: with a big appetite at one end and no responsibility at the other.”  ---Ronald “The Gipper” Reagan The Gipper knew a thing or...

. "Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument." ---John Milton, "On Shakespeare" First Prize: $2,000. Publication on the Society's website and Journal. . Submission Fee: $20...

. “Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument.” —John Milton, “On Shakespeare” First Prize: $200. Publication in the Society's website and The Society of Classical...

. Observation ____Comes morning, __And fog fills the forest Where bluebirds are wet on the wings. ____The toadstools __Are soaking up moisture, One cricket in solitude sings. ____The fog lifts __And drifts...

. Ode to the Zeer Across the Sahel states, the humble zeer, A pear-shaped or full-bellied earthen pot Strains muddy water, turns it cool and clear Beneath a tree or other shady spot. Constructed from alluvium...

. Autumn Fades The orange leaves decay to crinkling gray, And sunsets sink and fade the clouds to black. “You’ll see them all in Heaven,” so they say. The decades start to dwindle, day by day. Time...

. Oversimplification What so many people tend to say or write, Reduces complex issues of today, To merely simple packages of black or white, Oblivious to present shades of grey. . . A Permanent New Season I...

. The First Fallen Leaf A single leaf begins to fall. He wants to be the first of all. His brethren strain to join his fun. For now he’s still the only one. He floats and sways inside the breeze, but,...

. Hard To Tell With attributes that only those who know him understand, A countenance deceptive, and a being hard to gauge, Within what seems indifference, in the still and quiet man May lurk a warrior’s...

. It’s Only a Thought It’s only a thought to help pass the night, But what if our love should come to naught? Christ! That would be an unbearable plight. __It’s only a thought. But thoughts can stir...

. Leave Above the land, suspended, green and grand and splendid, we furnish food for trees, whisper with the breeze till cold winds bluster in and we turn harlequin. Now that we’re on the ground, you tote...

. Tranquil Tokonoma One thing a perfect purple rose cannot Accomplish is a type of sadness.  Man Is best at that.  That is mankind’s special blot. The plants and animals have learned to ban Such...

. August Foraging “It’s hot, it’s dry. No fun outdoors; No fungi, flowers, foliage, fruit For us to eat where Nature stores Wild food. The month is destitute.” Now, novice, look about you. Woodland...

. Emergence A child within the chrysalis, __awaiting to emerge. __Fruition and desire, __hoping to converge. The years prove long and arduous __and obstacles demanding, __with journeys full of strife __and...

. New Directions, or Deviations? by Joseph S. Salemi Many years ago I read an account of a discussion between Ezra Pound and an interviewer concerning his poetic career. I don’t recall where it was printed...

. https://youtu.be/o4TS45A7KEM . Tools for Writing Classical Poetry ---adapted from the video by Andrew Benson Brown Do you want to be forgotten forever? Do you want to be obscure in the annals of history,...

. DoorWay Canto 7: Flight to The Eyrie In Canto 7, the narrating Pilgrim Poet deviates from the Zodiac, leaving Sagittarius, to visit the constellation of Aquila, the Eagle, which has nine stars, and here the...

. Patient in a Nursing Home Such a frantic brilliance in the flagpole’s banging chain! I’m blind, __confined, ____but now I know: Winter’s here again. . . After the Funeral Her shoes capsized on the...

. The Worst of Our Convictions When, finally, the last church shuts its doors; when we run out of new identities to choose from; when the politicians have enough of power and wealth to make sure they can...

. Epigrams . Bear in mind that whilst you’re sleeping Your enemies are busy scheming. . If you absorb everything without a filter Don’t be surprised if you are out of kilter. . Children are like...

. Phoebus I saw the sun catch in your hair, Your silhouette against the glare. I heard your laughter rise and fall And shatter in the frozen air. The sun sank down behind the trees Yet brighter suns burned in...

. Mainstream News "Just 7% of Americans have 'a great deal' of trust and confidence in the media, and 27% have 'a fair amount.' Meanwhile, 28% of U.S. adults say they do not have very much confidence and...

. An Invitation While treading my locality's __New-slathered pavement grass, There came a flying, loud "hello" __From sprightly Mr. Das. "Black skies. It seems a squall will lash __Our town," he said to...

. Across a Strong Bridge upon the marriage of two friends In a weary world that's grown quite old, Where men grow weak, and thought grows cold, Two hearts can make one serious dent For virtue strong. As cool...

. The Mannequins Are Melting The mannequins are melting as we speak Now that the summer heat wave's at its peak. __While passing by the clothing store __This afternoon at half past four, I saw the havoc waves...

. Stolen Valor ---a poem in unheroic couplets Osama used his wives as human shields When being hunted down by Navy Seals; Bruce Ismay engineered Titanic’s fail Then slipped into a lifeboat ‘neath a...

. Hope Hope feels so strange these days, at times a bit Like something old that now no longer fits; It’s stretched beyond repair and somewhat scratchy And moths have made of it such daily bread That even its...

. Mud Our clip-on angel wings are cast from shards of glass, The sorry hymns we sing are drowned in blaring brass. It’s not that we are crazed as we rub our magic rings, but our spirit has been caged by a...