Author The Society

. A Clamshell in Concrete  I was a child in kindergarten class. My mother held my hand as we trod on The sidewalk leading to the boulevard. This was 1951. The path Was paved in smooth cement, and at the...

. Ode to Spring I see you in the rut of butting rams. __I hear you in the chirruping of chicks. I feel you in the frolic of the lambs. __I watch you in the snort and squeal and kicks Of peachy piglets latching...

. Parallel Man As I was going to the fair, I met a man with silver hair. The more I looked how could it be? He looked an awful lot like me, ‘Cept furrowed brow and walking cane. Perhaps my thoughts were just...

. Slivered Moon Slivered moon on slippers slides Across the skies on silver tides, Draping cobwebs over trees And coaxing shadows to their knees. No more this day will swallows sweep, Above the ground where...

. Love’s Seasons In the heat of the night, when conditions are right, __Gentle lovers will cuddle and spoon. It’s a wonderful plan, much more marvelous than __Any other found under the moon. When the...

. Birdbrains a villanelle   “When you control a man’s thinking you do not have to worry  about his actions.” ---Carter G. Woodson If we just parrot newspeak without blinking And push...

. (See an explanation on what Sibyls are here.) . The Tyburtine Sibyl The Tyburtine sibyl has the iconographic attribute of a hand, indicating her foreknowledge of insults suffered by Jesus. Not from my...

. Uncle Sam's Tomb after Samuel Coleridge's "The Knight's Tomb" (see below) Where will the grave of that great figurehead be, That leader of free men and symbol of might, That vision of justice in our country...

. Woman For years I’ve known exactly what it means To own the weight and wonder of my sex--- The crimson flow of knowledge in my teens, The curve and swell---my spell---the heady hex That lures love...

. The Short-Lived Triumph of the Junior School's Health & Safety Officer The children wait in line to sanitize Their grubby hands before their morning class. The teacher guards the door, and none may...

. He Catches When We Fall! Of all life’s mysteries, The deepest of them all--- Not how high we've risen But on what day we fall. Pride’s an untrue friend, And hubris does us in. A loss of faith in...

. Sleep Now the hour has come to lay me down Upon the waters of the river Lethe, To float into the maelstrom and to drown In swirling waves above me and beneath me. Who can recount those dark, forgotten...

. Share your poetry on currently unfolding Russo-Ukrainian war in the comments section below.  We received a large response on our first post of poetry on Russia's invasion of Ukraine in February, and poets...

. The Simplest Way to Save the Earth The simplest way for us to save the earth Would be for women to stop giving birth. For when there are no longer any mothers We’ll solve the problem of too many...

. The Hypodermic For a poet, the pen is merely part Of the apparatus of addiction. He emulates the frozen fly in amber Watching eons come, roll by, and pass. As motionless as veined quartz in a stone, He seeks...

. Quarantined Against the wind, our candles out, The smoke will rise, we have no doubt, Yet in the dark with all our kin, We’ll strike a match and crack a grin, And once alight, our joy will sprout. All...

. Where Wonders Remain Snow crowns violet mountains that reign over trees, __Whose forests stand verdant and old; It ends where rich valleys roll down to the seas, __To welcome blue waters with gold. From...

. https://rumble.com/embed/vvm2wt/?pub=4 . Identity Crisis I used to think my body was all woman, My fruitful womb refused to be dismissed. But now I’m not so sure I’m even human--- I’m not a fully...

. From The Burkean: Icarus magazine currently holds the reputation of being Trinity College’s — if not Ireland’s — premier poetry journal… with contributions from Seamus Heaney and John...

. Sold I. Summer Honey Crush  Soft, silken lips shone from her screen last night. She saw them, plump and ripe, as smooth and lush As velvet peaches kissed by Sol’s delight. If her smile blushed in Summer...

. https://youtu.be/LRxFaGgdazE Our Worthy Sons dedicated to Samuel by Susan Jarvis Bryant Our worthy sons should never be ashamedOf who they are and who they’re meant to be.For far too long men’s gender...

. Ode to Salmon, the Episcopal Fish a poem in honor of Bishop Athanasius Schneider No birdsong greets the chilly damp of dawn In dreary gray autumnal cloud-filled skies, As rosy salmon swim upstream to...

. Your poem can be serious, silly, or something in-between. List the “random words” you chose as your poem’s title and feel free to use whatever poetic form you’d like. Then post the poem in the...

. Dispiration I have nothing to say, Not a thought in my head. If I needed to pray There would be nothing said. Just a large empty space And no functioning brain, With the mouth on my face Filled with nothing...

. Not What He Thinks All my success An old friend said Has clearly gone Straight to the head. I’ll grant that, but Judged by chagrin It’s his head my Success is in. . . Rachel Dolezal Poor Rachel had a...

. The Street Cop's Choice Thanks for coming home to help me choose. I know my kids will always have my back. Today was rough. By now you’ve seen the News--- Such blatant lies! They’ve tied me to the...

. Tribute to a Poet for Leonard Dabydeen, an SCP poet who passed away on March 16, 2022. Read Leonard Dabydeen's poetry here. I gaze for long at star-filled skies __To feel the crumbling fears; I see the world...

. Love Letter to a Spoon How fine thou art my silver spoon. Your neck as graceful as a swan. Your hips full as the harvest moon. Thy manner gentle as a fawn. Bright curls of finespun filigree Like rays of sun...

. Dueling Violins Yanni, Karen Briggs and Shardad Rohani live at the Acropolis in 1993 Anticipating each half-note he brings to life, her fingers stretch to find the grooves. Perfection springs, as sound is...

. Slàinte! Today we’ll lift the Lenten limitations And don our Gaelic garb of kelly green. Bonhomie and glee and lush libations Will flow at dawn and dusk and in between. We’ll pluck a harp and pick a...

. Happy St. Patrick's Day! Share your St. Patrick's Day Poetry in the comments section below. While writing and posting, enjoy an Irish medley of songs, “Chief O Neil’s” followed by “The Red-Haired...

. Heights of Passion Passion flowers white and purple Bloom where tendrils curl and cling To the overhanging myrtle Sheltering my garden swing. Scents befitting distant tropics Catch the senses...

. Berenice for my mother, Berenice Stone Cook Indebted to a simple spark of life, You missed your chance at Europe’s wondrous door. A conscientious mother and a wife, You danced your dance upon an inland...

. On Sighting a Marsupial "Serve with: Turnip greens" —Joy of Cooking Opossums are so ugly that it isn’t clear Another of their kind would find one good to look At.  Matted fur and hairless tails do not...

. Two Poems for White Day On White Day, March 14, men in Japan present white gifts to women, in return for the chocolates they receive from women on Valentine’s Day. White Day began in 1978 as a commercial...

. Time Is of the Essence The powers that be in their ivory tower, Make important decisions for sure, While the rest of us mortals surrender our power, We conform… we adapt… we endure. I refer to the...

. A White Knight a triolet With fires of hope and spirit bright, who will stand up for what is just thence set our country all alight with fires of hope and spirit bright? A hero true, a great white knight a...

. A North Indian Summer They ask of me to write a sonnet fine In praise of Summer and her pretty dress, But I hail from a place of different clime Where Summer’s heat knows best how to oppress. She raises...

. The Arch of Titus The Arch of Titus was constructed in 81 AD by the Emperor Domitian to commemorate the victory of Titus and Vespasian, over the Jewish rebellion in Judea. The arch depicts the triumphal...

. "I Heard Chapman Speak Out Loud and Bold" by Margaret Coats My title quotes “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer,” a sonnet by John Keats. When Keats first read Homer, the voice he heard was not...