Author The Society

  Mysterium Tremendum is a central idea in Rudolf Otto's "The Idea of the Holy" I muse upon the sea’s expanse And soar into a troubled trance. A distant storm front drowns the sun— Light fades...

The above photographs were taken and submitted by New York City poet Joe Tessitore. We invite readers to pick one of the images (or both) and write a poem. Post your poem in the comments section...

Mailied by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) How brightly nature Shines this morning! What radiant sun! How the fields sing! The buds burst forth From each green frond! A thousand...

  Leo Yankevich passed away in December 2018. This poem was submitted by Sally Cook. Crows and leaves beyond the windowpane, a cup of steaming coffee on the stool, my lines reflected in your eyes,...

  My husband posed his need to leave; a family vote was cast. The outcome brought me to my knees and left my heart aghast. Now, I’m a tad controlling – of that I will admit; “LEAVE” just...

  The Constant Truth A Reflection on the Times of My Life   I. The Old Days A sheep filled meadow lay adjacent to our street Where from March throughout spring one could hear the lambs...

He Wishes to Immortalise His Mistress by Michelangelo Buonarroti How is it, ma mignonne, (as we all know) that figures carved in mountain marble stay exquisite, pristine, everlasting, though the hand...

Spring In spring the crocuses broke out as bold As brass from refuge in their barren clay. They speared the air in colourful array And blazoned they their petals proudly told Of azure and of purpure and...

  In a town by the sea, where the salt air’s free, Lived a widower and his daughter. She was known as Claire-Kate; or by title First Mate On those days when their boat sailed the water. And it...

Campaign of 1940-1952 True Cincinnati spirit is the love of hearth, the principles of isolation, a life in works of service to the nation. Could he reverse the course and release the doves of peace,...

  I hear Boeung Kak has now been filled with gritty sand, turned mud, now earth. The lake’s become a dusty field, yet memory preserves a berth for fishermen in long canoes, just toothpicks...

Wind and Vanity after Ecclesiastes 1 My name is Solomon, and you may know me as the king of Israel, David’s son, a man of wisdom unsurpassed. And so I was. And yet I write to you as one emerging...

In every life Woe presses down, We falter then— Face to the ground. This woe in me— Am I alone? Without high ground, Can’t see my home! I reach for earth— Find only sand. No foothold...

  after Dylan Thomas Let me go gentle into that dark night Let me not rage against the dying light There is another light that beckons me That from this garish light will set me free It softly glows...

Time Time to time to time—from tock to tick, to wall to window topple, stop, then stop: a tower, wrist, a rest, a clerk, a click— around around the sound (a drip) (a drop)— and tripping,...

Ultimatum  To My Friendly Neighbor Regarding His Overly-friendly Pet* Dear neighbor, do you love your cat? (I'm sure you must, they're such enchanters) I've got a bag of poo (for you) It left in all my...

This piece is sponsored by KidSecured by Evan Mantyk and Kathy Brellan Lord Byron was born George Gordon Byron in London on January 22, 1788 and died just 36 years later in 1824. Yet, despite his short...

  Daguerreotype An old once-treasured memory engraved On glass to keep the dying past alive. A fractal blink of time preserved and saved So that the tableau-ed moment would survive. Three men,...

  Aglaia, Euphrosyne, Thalia I find them there, no longer young, Though neatly dressed and well preserved: Three sisters in the trinket shop— Polite and helpful, but reserved. They guide me...

Doublespeak Denial Rondeau Redoublé “Gender mattered a whole lot less to Shakespeare than it seems to matter to us.” —John Irving If I don’t care for words you have to share (a pitch which...

by T.M. Moore   Our Image-hungry Age Increasingly, our postmodern generation prefers its communications to be in as few words and as many images as possible. Hence, the curious success of...

Harvest Sonnet If, in June, clouds crack and seeping, Leak their cache upon beast and field, Surety no longer keeping, This payment, late, defaults the yield; Lest the rain delay the reaping Another...

Fleas with apologies to Joyce Kilmer I think that I shall never see A creature horrid as a flea. A flea who makes a little nest Inside the fur of doggy’s chest; That treats us like a free...

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  Choosing a pet can be vexing and yet it’s important to vet all the choices you’ve got. If you’re in search of a pet who will perch on your silver white birch, it’s the best of the...

  This recording was made by M. P. Lauretta for the Southend Poetry Group in August 2019.   Sonetto n. 7 dal Canzoniere di Francesco Petrarca La gola e ’l sonno e l’oziose piume hanno...

The wind and balmy breeze Blow softly through the trees. All the darkness of the night, Disappears in morning light. The shadows on the ground, They do not make a sound. Birds awakened, singing...

Dodgeball "But we have the mind of Christ." 1 Corinthians 2.16 Sometimes my thought-life is a dodgeball game— except that I’m the only one on my side of the line—and when at length I try to launch...

  This is an abridged version of the original. A reading of the original can be found here. A chilling breeze blew through the trees, which filtered beams of light That danced in play as dying day gave...

  This season’s colours will be brown and gold Fading to sepia, like a photograph. The leaves, still splendid, are already old, Their richness is a kind of aftermath. This, like all seasons, is...

A Treble's Song Is there a thing to match a treble’s song? The joy perhaps of spring-time larks in flight, Or how the migrant birds so deftly throng? What of the mane that speaks the lion’s...

  The skylight lets the nascent streak Of gold inside this darkened room; Some wisp of scent invades therein, A perfumed faith to counter gloom. Those orbs of light cast patterns old, Of...

  Here stand I happ’ly on classical grounds, inspired; the voices speak distinctly in enchanted tone from worlds of today and former times expired. Taking counsel, I leaf through beloved elders’...

Political Voice (A Cento) A cento or collage poem takes bits of poetry from past poets and puts them together in a new order. The below poem draws on the poems written for the political campaigns of U.S....

  Irrelevant If the room is the tomb then the elephant is irrelevant.   Haiku From my heart was shown how very much I loved her— could she not have known?   I have found my...

Sonnet VI. Fiona Zheng Violinist Fiona Zheng and her father spent part of their lives fleeing communist authorities in China after her mother and grandmother were killed for refusing to renounce their...

Helen Keller (1880-1968) Your eyesight and hearing were gone, yet you felt just as blithe as a fawn ___when you learned that a word ___could stand for a bird or the flowers that bloomed in your...

A breeze came out of the North one day, and cried, "September's begun!" A breeze came out of the North one day, declared, "The Summer is done!" by Jack Ahlers You know the fall air—it is somehow...

Writer's Block I feel like I am plodding through cement; My mind is full of cotton batting. Dull, And dense, and empty-headed, thinking spent On trying to find clarity. To mull About within and come up...

A ball that’s lost should never cost ____A one-stroke penalty. Where now it dwells finds someone else— ____It’s stolen property! When perfect putt lips ‘round the cup, ____No stroke need added...