Author The Society

“Select, all ye who write, a subject fit, A subject not too mighty for your wit! Before you lay your shoulders to the wheel, Weigh well their strength, and all their weakness feel!” —Horace (65-8...

“Select, all ye who write, a subject fit, A subject not too mighty for your wit! Before you lay your shoulders to the wheel, Weigh well their strength, and all their weakness feel!” —Horace (65-8...

. The starlit sky is filled with smoke ______and men succumb To dread, while folded hands invoke ______to overcome This awful plight; yet prayers heard ______through fervid faith Are breath for Satan....

. The Peach Garden Oath This oath of fellowship is an iconic moment in the first chapter of the historical novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms, by Luo Guanzhong (14th century), in which the main heroes of the...

. Waking Up (Freedom Doesn't Come in a Can) A Protest Song Written and Performed by Jack DesBois I was lying in my bed, Waiting for the day to start, Waiting for the sun to get me on my way, And I...

by Adam Sedia The life of Walter de la Mare (1873-1956) spans earthshattering changes in history and art. The England into which he was born was a colonial empire stretching across the globe. Horse-drawn...

. Observations of a Former Victim You may think me insensitive or witless, But more and more it seems the case these days, That victimhood is run up on a flagpole, Including in some overreaching ways. Of...

. “Make a decision,” is what me ma said, As she wearily plucked at each feather, ‘Er old gnarled fingers rough and red And clumsily workin’ together. “Yer’ll not get another chance like this, Two...

. "American pragmatism insists that words are for use, not enjoyment; American puritanism insists that expression is a duty, not a pleasure." —Richard A. Lanham Everyone knows that poems work on different...

. The arrogant are all about these days. How disrespectful are their callous ways! They go about as freely as you please— No mask, no vaccine, carrying disease And likely death wherever they may go (Which...

. This challenge comes form poet James A. Tweedie: Perhaps the most familiar of all formal, English-language poems is the classic 18th century bedtime prayer that reads: Now I lay me down to sleepI pray the...

. a rondel It's funny how a day can go so slow, and yet a year just simply seems to fly. We blink, and then another one goes by. Those winds of change don't ever cease to blow. Time's raging river has an...

. At the Temple of Yue Fei Behind, a lake unstirring sleeps; Ahead, grey fog and budding leaves. A jade-green pool commands the heart, Beneath the clouds and sweeping eaves. A statue beckons; I respond, And...

. Lost and Found I’ve lost myself but in the course, I’ve found a sanctuary glowing, aspen golden. To me, I am the stream to woodland bound upon the forest floor midst boulders olden. My water flows as...

. The Secret Garden Beyond these ivied walls grows naught but heather Gorse and broom, the moors engulfed by blows Of bitter, wuthering wind and gloomy weather. This haunted land is barren, bleak and old. But...

. There never was a night so long When time went crawling by. The Arctic wind came howling in Across the Nashville sky. The planes had all been grounded With no tickets left to ride. It was wheels out on the...

. The Commander-in-Chief How Biden sucks---I mean the man, Who being wholly characterless Will criticize Afghanistan "Cowards"---when he can’t face the Press! . . James Sale is a worldwide thought...

. Geese on the Moor On Laddow Moss the April air is cold And still. A single pair of wayward geese We find beside a tarn, their nest of fleece And feather sprigs of springy heather hold Together. Once we found...

. You are invited to a reading of exquisite poetry and conversations with the poets. This reading is part of a quarterly series of online poetry readings planned for 2021-2022. . Date & Time Sunday...

. “Come with me, child, past all this camouflage.” “Is there a secret garden there, Grandpa?” “Not quite. It’s just a small, padlocked garage, To keep out the enforcers of the law.” I keyed the...

. Cheap Sauvignon’s chilled and then swilled just to stave off the pain, While TVs drone on as cons ponder on who is to blame. We lumber along with each task And no one will ever dare ask--- Zip lips for...

Reviewed Book: Legends of Liberty Volume 1, by Andrew Benson Brown, T A J Classics, 2021 by James Sale Legends of Liberty is an important new poem from the American poet, Andrew Benson Brown. The nearest...

. Albert Pierrrepoint (1905-1992) served as one of GreatBritain’s chief executioners from 1931 to 1956, duringwhich time he hanged over 500 persons. All the namesand events mentioned here are real. My father...

. Debacle in Kabul We all make mistakes and we all have regrets. The mess in Kabul is as bad as it gets. We messed up before when we left Vietnam, Not to mention, Qaddafi, Iraq and Saddam. We messed up in...

. The gods of ancient Greece return to cast their blight upon our nation. Throughout the eons come and gone, now social strife is their creation. Chaos, the god of disarray, of lawlessness and vast...

. after “Ballade of the Unborn Child” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox I wrote by hand my lines of verse, __Just lit by reading light; I made no sound, no sign or curse, __And suddenly was fixed with...

. W A R N I N G : __You won’t be forgivenfor the belt road you are livingfor flat miles that you have drivenover roadkill stacked and strivenon your blood red ride to hell. __You, the swollen high-ups,laced...

. The Worst of Rhymes No matter where we choose to sit, A fool, alone, would not admit, We’re living in a world of shit And I have more than done my bit. Here by the guillotine I knit Caps for the heads...

. A burst of laughter slips into an echo past the tinny bells and rattling glass of Joe's, my corner liquor store, the last and first of every day. Arroyo streets are dry of human traffic now, are dry of...

. Write a poem rhyming the word "orange" with something else. Post it in the comments below. This challenge comes from Cheryl Corey, who provided the below poem as inspiration: . Nothing Rhymes With...

. We can’t remember. After years of war that thing once known as “poetry” was lost. We know there was a Greek named Robert Frost; we don’t know what “pentameters” were for. In rotting libraries...

. Running round ruins of things long forgot, These tried, tiring times---who can make an end? Can read the scroll or seven seals rend? The limpid air is still and full of rot. The sorry dreams of fragile...

. Inklings The clues are there. They skulk between the lines. They lurk in spin and smirk in murky spiel. The clues are there. They leer in subtle signs. They lounge in lies and lace the dicey...

. If We Knew It All . . . Where do dreams go when we wake up? Where does time go as we age? Why did William Shakespeare make up Plays we still perform on stage? Sometimes questions beg an answer— Questions...

. Hagi at My Study Window hagi or bush clover, a symbol of poetry, blooms as summer turns to autumn. Paper shapes the future’s surface, Paperweights the present state. Inkstones hold a scholar’s...

. Far from the city’s ceaseless bustle— __That’s where the eagle flies! Borne by the means of plume and muscle— __That’s how the eagle flies! There she is one with updrafts rising; There she knows...

. The Argument: The Poet, with Dante and Virgil, has arrived on the third step of the StairWell, or Purgatory. Dante at the start of Canto 3 has been at pains to explain to the shocked Poet what just has...

. I’m Andrew Cuomo---I get a pass. If you don’t like it, kiss my ass! I’m Andrew Cuomo---I don’t resign. I’m governor---this state is mine! . . Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident...

. I stand upon the Bridge of Sighs as teardrops fill my weary eyes and think of life that used to be when she was still in love with me. I watch the river down below. My woes don't interrupt the flow. It...

. Farmer, Unpack the dormant forces quiet days Have put aside and stoke the smothered fire Whose soot fanned out in lifeless carbon rays Upon the hearth of winter’s mild repose, But bear the fire...