Author The Society

. Living The Dream   “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin,   but by the content of their character.” ---Martin Luther King, Jr. The USA gives thanks---hurray For...

. Martin Luther King, Jr. Meets Today’s Left How would the Left see Dr. King Just what reaction would they bring If he today could be our guest Reviving messages expressed? How would the Left see King...

. I Grieve Bleak Streets I grieve bleak streets where handguns reign in terror Daring inner-city residents To duck and cover. Life used to be fairer Years ago, when mayors and presidents, Police, and...

. Let It Bleed My family believes a puzzle piece is missing, that it’s me and if they snap it in, the family will have peace. The picture will be whole. They’ll close a gap. But as I stand outside, I see...

. A Truthful Triolet I want the truth. I want to trust The words that trip from lips that lied. I want all doubt to fade to dust. I want the truth. I want to trust. Truth hurts. Truth heals. Truth's heart is...

. Obsession an Alfred Dorn sonnet As candles gently glow in amber light The picture centered high upon the wall appears to take a life form of its own. Yet, thoughts of her are stronger on this night. He...

. Caring Now, while Winter’s noisy emptiness moans In the flue, Dearest, look out at all these Somberly unimpatient silent trees Holding aloft their abject skeletons: Can new flesh somehow sprout from human...

. Civis Romanus Sum (I am a Roman citizen) As Paul stood bound and for the whip outstretched, He said to the centurion beside, “‘Tis lawful here for you to flog a wretch, A Roman citizen and not yet...

. The Spirit of the Anti-Mary a poem in honor of Our Lady of Gualalupe in reparation for the crime of abortion and abortion-tainted medicines All those who seek me find eternal Life, But those who sin against...

. The Artist Intuitive journey, subconscious creations refuse to diffuse while the muse makes the choice to infuse mystic magic with personal voice giving birth to original manifestations. Works will cement...

. The Lost The fog rolled heavy, down to blunt the day, Sharp skyscraper tops dissolved into the gray. Pale ghosts condensed, one here or there, lone, gaunt: Scared eyes, blank masks, as if condemned to...

. Limerick China’s footballers haven’t a clue why they can’t go and get a tattoo, but I think it might be it’s since President Xi is afraid they’ll choose Winnie the Pooh. . . This Urge for the...

. The A-bomb Dome in Hiroshima The epicentre of the blast was here, This dome, its empty ribcage gaunt and bare, It stands mute testimony to the day A Superfortress, the Enola Gay, Took to the cirrus-marbled...

. The View from Space My helmet gone, I float among the stars As weightless as my lungs deprived of air Asphyxiating slowly, I am far From all I love and anyone who cares. The stars are dead already: cold and...

. Fleet of Foot Pheidippides A Grecian runner named Pheidippides, From Athens, ran to Sparta with a plea. “We need your help to fight the Persians, please!” But Sparta sent him back with,...

. https://youtu.be/RMcLVFNbueY . Complete poem text here. CREDITSPoetry: Alan Nordstrom (1939-)Audio/Visual Work: Society of Classical PoetsVoice-Over: Evan MantykPhotos/Footage:“Milky Way with Tree” by...

. Cascading Nation Now not so much a nation as a place for pushing through a bruit cacophony of cultures in discordant synergy, dismissing calm consensus, wit, and grace as if considered discourse would...

. Sadness Has Silent Feet Sorrow comes on softened steps, __But joy leaps madly in. Where is she with the golden hair __I would yet see again? Is she now like wind on braes __That sing the brae-wind song? Or...

. St. Joseph’s Admonition Forget yourself, and do what’s right, Remember how you gained your sight, So do not pause to quench your pain, Your will is strengthened by the strain, But weakened if you do not...

. It’s Coming for You! It’s coming to devour you, you know. There’s no escape no matter where you go. It waits and watches, hides behind the door With fetid breath from pathogenic spores. Far worse than...

. The Ninth Day of the Emperor's Wrath a rondeau redoublé The stadium roared at the end of the fight. In triumph the victor uplifted his sword. The emperor signaled thumbs down with cold spite. Death’s blow...

. Good Conscience Under our cauls a sleepless giber lurks, A callous judge of all our selfish smirks Who slices through our veils of self delight To show us prancing for unholy cirques. Our ego tells us to...

. Sonnet by José de Espronceda (1808-1842) | translated from Spanish by Adam Sedia Fresh, lush, pure, and perfumed luxuriantly, The blooming garden’s flair and ornament, Coxcomb perched on the stem's...

. https://youtu.be/dYyxThEY71o . An Excerpt from The Western Star for Epiphany, January 6, 2022 The road stretched out forever in the morning, giving Balthazar plenty of time and space for thought. The...

. Annuary Stichs Jamesian intricacies swarmed about the voter-counts; a massive fraud had taken place beyond the lovely mounts. Nobody had expected Apate and Dolos to ubiquitously fake vote-counts in the...

. There are a number of ways to go wrong in poetry. Unfortunately, the Poetry Establishment is only willing to admit the existence of a select few of them. The others are either kept under wraps, or disguised...

. The Language of Hope The heart forbids the mind to let it go; __Extinguished love has deeper scars, __The foremost friend, the dreaded foe, It burns and scatters flames like broken stars. I pace upon the...

. Reviewed Book: A Thing With Feathers, by J. John Nordstrom, independently published, 2021 by Andrew Benson Brown A Thing With Feathers is the debut novel of J. John Nordstrom (the pen name of Joseph J....

. Forever Faun In mottled shade of forest stood a faunSo still he seemed to be no living thing;The sun beamed down, already he was gone—His presence was a fleeting sign of Spring.Once in the distant past,...

. Unprofitable Servant Bergoglio clarifies his views on the Latin Mass A treasure was mine, but it’s too long ago For me to recover what now I despise. Fearful and sickened and sadly too slow I was to...

. Meditations on Ecclesiastes . Inquiry “What profit has a man for all his labor…?” ---Ecclesiastes 1: 3 None knows what all his work accomplishes; What one begins, another finishes A different way. Or,...

. The Dark Knight I’ve always held the Queen in high esteem, Her ever-classy, never brassy aura Shines noble splendour on the regal scene And blesses folk who openly adore 'er. Today the corgi-hugging...

. So It Is Written The books that I have owned for many years, Still sitting on my shelves or stored in boxes, Have yellowed pages—damaged belvederes— With covers bearing pale mildewy poxes. I’ve read...

. Introduction In a second-hand bookshop, located in the French Quarter (New Orleans), I discovered a poetry book by Margaret Hunt Brisbane (1858-1925). It had been in mid spring of 2005, a couple of months...

. Last Christmas I’d rushed there through the afternoon In someone else’s borrowed car Where you, distressed I’d come too soon, Were giving samples in a jar. The last I ever spoke with you Was in that...

. “Lud's Church" or “The Green Chapel” after Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I travel to this place each New Year’s Day, To where the fluting curlew builds his nest. Upon these stegosaurus hills I...

. For Auld Lang Syne Each New Year’s Day is like a colander Through which we strain and drain away the days Of auld lang syne, throw out the calendar, And set the count-down-midnight-sky ablaze. Take down...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4HH4MeT9Mo . Read the complete poem here: https://classicalpoets.org/2013/12/12/two-psalms/#/ CREDITS Poetry: Evan Mantyk (b. 1982) Audio/Visual Work: Society of Classical...

. 20/20 Vision You’re lurking in the shadows with a wink. I see your flute of crystal, hear you pop Your cork as spirits soar and keen arms link To strains of Auld Lang Syne as clock hands...

. On the Birth of the Grand Millenium 1 January 2000 A panoply of adolescent eyes Looks out into the frosty air they breathe Into the puffs of mist their mouths devise At wild humanity whose shoutings...