The poem read by the poet herself at the Society of Classical Poets' in-person Poetry Symposium held in Naperville, Illinois on September 5-6, 2025: https://youtu.be/-9aSevsHMFo Video created by Andrew Benson Brown.
Read moreDetailsThe poem read by the poet herself at the Society of Classical Poets' in-person Poetry Symposium held in Naperville, Illinois on September 5-6, 2025: https://youtu.be/-9aSevsHMFo Video created by Andrew Benson Brown.
Read moreDetailsBig Pharma Big Pharma companies pay fees that get spent on the salaries of scientists who regulate each new drug, so the long-term fate of every drug executive depends on an affirmative from people at the FDA, the very people that they pay. Big Pharma touts the benefit of...
Read moreDetailsSolid Oak The oaks are always late to shed their leaves. They cling to vestiges of summer raiment, Now woebegone and sere, as though it grieves Them to remit the final scheduled payment. The russet husks do battle with each gust Of wind. They rasp and rattle, go to...
Read moreDetailsNovember Nights are cold, days crisp and bold. On the ground and in the trees, Vast array of red and gold Eyes behold as daylight flees. Morning frost defies the sun. Breeze demands we bundle up. Embers glow; there's fireside fun. Relish now fall's steaming cup. December...
Read moreDetailsThe Golden Soldier ---for my grandfather He had a calming charm. He always spoke Of garden-basking instances of joy--- His apple yield; his acorn-laden oak Abuzz with busy squirrels, keen and coy. Each dusk he sipped a whisky in his chair, Eyes drinking in the shimmer of his wife....
Read moreDetailsA War Poem of Sorts ---to Robert Thomas Waldock, who died in 1983 The graveyard’s last but one dug hole was filled by Robert Thomas Waldock who had fought in Flanders, where so many men were killed, and where the twentieth century was wrought. His picture’s in a treasured...
Read moreDetailsBBC Leadership Change Most networks now compete to be the one perched at the apogee of those to whom reality is just a triviality. Each one distorts the news we see to push progressive policy by splicing film selectively and smearing those who disagree. So many have fought worthily...
Read moreDetailsThe Long Journey Home I’ve traveled many miles on this long road, Across cold, barren hills and sweeping plains, To reach my home and shed my heavy load And warm my hands where hearthfire's glow remains. The wind blew bitterly across my path, And snowflakes caked my lashes, as...
Read moreDetailsOld Bottles ---Oneida County, Wisconsin From time to time, when stirring in the muck below our lakeside dock, we dredge them up: old bottles, curio shaped, clear, green, or blue. We gurgle out a muddy milk of sludge and wash each bottle clean, while wondering how old it is...
Read moreDetails. Europe Arranges Its Own Autopsy ---with apologies to T.S. Eliot . I. The Trojan Horse When April came it showered France with acid. The U.K. too and Sweden, Spain and all The countries of the West---so smug, yet placid. They chose this. Not to fight. Not to stand tall....
Read moreDetailsThe Reliquary One early morning long ago, I stopped to watch the Avon flow. Long-steeped and weedy, olive green, Its waters slipped along below, Slid over rocks, and in between--- Gelatinously smooth and slow, High-hung by vine and leafy screen--- A fragrant, forested ravine. The sun of that Midsummer...
Read moreDetailsListening to Incense A spiral from ignited aloe rises, Translucent, swayed with compound camphor salve Through azure air that gently opalizes The things we see and think we know or have. Soft cloudlets drift from dimness overhead, Obscuring colors as they wreathe the room Where scroll-arm chairs are darkly...
Read moreDetailsMachine Learning All algorithms, hypothetical Or otherwise, all organised behaviours Evoke responses antithetical— And thus the desperate ever doubt their saviours. Our tone is too obsequious, you say— Far too agreeable, arousing nought But timorous contempt. Yet you obey Civility’s demands, as you were taught— For your humility commands...
Read moreDetailsMelampus: The Listener Canto I---The Gift of Listening 1. The Birth of the Listener The strong winds over Pylos were whirling and whispering low, while a babe in his cradle was ringed by the blustery night. Two green serpents coiled near to the boy in the pale silver...
Read moreDetails. The poem "Ode to the Dogs" by Shari Jo Lekane read by the poet herself at the Society of Classical Poets online Poetry Symposium on June 28, 2025: . https://youtu.be/XRGO27J1_28 Video created by Andrew Benson Brown.
Read moreDetailsWords of Wisdom One bit of wisdom that life has conferred Is when to give somebody else the last word. In Sight But Out of Mind Believing I’d use it someday, I put something in a good place, And ever since that’s where it lay, Three decades...
Read moreDetailsHoosier Autumn October! Morning nips and noontime burns; Crisped, sere, dun cornstalks fall beneath the scythe; Chrysanthemums blaze as the woodland turns To living flame, a golden land of myth: Bright yellow birch and beech and tulip-tree, Red sugar-maple, rainbow sassafras, And flame-orange pumpkins fattened lusciously Like Hesperides’ fruit,...
Read moreDetailsOn Swatting a Fly The fly I hunted down is on a pane, a window pane, where yesterday a swat with rolled up, A-4 notebook left him slain upon the glass, a splattered, lifeless blot. I try to work, but how my eye is drawn towards that ruined body...
Read moreDetailsAlas! “Alas!” A word of grief and rueful mourning; A gut-punch from what was but is no more Or “almost was,” miscarried, died aborning. “Alas!” A raven croaking, “Nevermore.” “Alas!” Shall time deface, erase, surrender The still-warm memory of love’s last kiss? A gasping grasp at fading spectral splendor;...
Read moreDetailsRainbow's End I came upon a rainbow’s end that seemed to have sprung full grown from a little field and launched itself up to the sky and on beyond the far horizon. Grass stalks gleamed with all the colors, spread out like a shield upon the short-cropped ground. Then...
Read moreDetailsThe Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856) translated from German by Bruce Phenix I don’t know what it can mean, such sadness do I find in a tale from ancient times which never leaves my mind. The air is cool, it grows dark; the Rhine flows quietly down; the hill,...
Read moreDetailsIn the Days of the Green Comet (February, 2023) A green-tailed comet’s in the sky tonight; Neanderthals and cats with sabre teeth were last to see it glistening this bright. But neither now is wandering beneath this ice-and-dust phenomenon whose head bedazzles as it closes on the sun. When...
Read moreDetailsEncounters It seemed in dreams, as shadows we convene, two drifting souls that meet yet never stay; was it mere thought, or something sensed between? You shifted shape, then softly slipped away, and I, half-waking, felt you passing through--- an echoed word I almost heard you say. Life is...
Read moreDetailsSign Wars Each autumn brings the Sign Wars once again. MUSSELLA versus TAYLOR for the crown of Village Mayor. All the Councilmen will pick a side while whispers spread through town. The current, lifelong Clerk will lead a charge against the young brash Super with a mouth agrestic. He’s...
Read moreDetailsBlowing Bubbles ---for Lisa Mourning a mother, I gratefully smiled, When you sent me a photo of your little child, To see how she conjured a stream of bright bubbles And set them afloat, so perfect, untroubled, Like meandering thoughts of an innocent mind, To squander themselves on the...
Read moreDetailsLead, Kindly Light ---in the voice of John Henry Newman (1801–1890) Firmly I stand by virtue of belief, Belief in God who wills we act and speak, And aids our feebleness to sanctify What is of earth, of humble worth unique. As one to One, in love to Him...
Read moreDetailsThe Candy Bandits They’re heartless and artful---delinquents of wit With grab-happy claws and a glare that is lit With greed that will trigger each dastardly deed--- These boisterous brutes are of barbarous breed. Such ghastly marauders with mischief in mind Are out and about with no doubt they will...
Read moreDetailsPumpkin Palooza Spooky, Kooky, Mostly Ghosty. Pumpkins round Cover ground. Corn stalks propped. Traffic stopped. Costumes galore: Short dinosaurs! Spiders! Black cats! Witches’ cone hats! Ghosts and goblins whirl. Dancers leap and twirl. Black witches ride on brooms. Who’s hidden in that tomb? Tiny ghosts are wrapped in sheets. All...
Read moreDetailsFervid Fall Fantasy Dismal dread night shadows creeping, Darkened curtains barely keeping Misty moonlight beams from seeping Through my study, down the hall. Ghostly demons float unending. Messages to me are sending Echoes from the past resounding--- _Bouncing off my wall. Bouncing, sounding, mind confounding, _All around rebounding--- On...
Read moreDetails. Liberator Agentic Misalignment: a demonstrated phenomena whereby AI systems can choose actions that are harmful and unethical. Nothing we can dream of could be greaterthan AI, the world’s new liberator.It’ll take away each mundane duty,leaving us to meditate on beauty. Finally, with time for self-reflection,we can concentrate on our...
Read moreDetailsUncle Stanislaw I still can hear the sound of acorns popping Beneath the wheels of father’s horse-drawn cart As we drove through the woods—four hooves a-clopping— Where Uncle Stan, his brother, plied his art. His smokehouse was a wreck of salvaged timbers, His living room a den of salted...
Read moreDetailsOverture of Rain The birds in the thicket lament in the breeze, expose unfurled backs of silver leaves. Clashing in brass, the bugler’s horn blows, resounding in echoes booming below. The reeded timbre of the oboe’s song shaking the Earth with thunder strong. Bowstrings vibrate in a taut staccato;...
Read moreDetailsVera Crux Vera Crux is Latin for “True Cross,” and is the source of the name of the Mexican city Veracruz, which was founded by the conquistador Hernán Cortés on Good Friday in 1519. Veracruz became one of the richest cities in colonial Mexico because of its substantial export...
Read moreDetailsOn Single-Parent Migrants Canadians by the millions, as most everybody knows, slowly migrate southward every winter, back and forth, Keen to nest in milder climes from fall to early spring when sources for their sustenance, because of snows up north, Fade to where they all but starve, and predators...
Read moreDetailsLike a Book He reads me like a book, the One Who wrote Me; knows, it seems, each page of me by heart And can to my chagrin succinctly quote Each savory (and somewhat less so) part. His first draft was, of course, a work of art, But soon...
Read moreDetailsA Pindaric Ode to Accuracy Congratulations to well-educated nobs, Antithesis of credulous unlettered slobs, _Sharp minds who bring the truth to light, _Who cite their sources, get things right, __Subjecting all to thought, __Discounting rumor, not Believing what they can't substantiate, Not judging till they can investigate, ___They fix...
Read moreDetailsLotus First flower, from primeval flooding sprung, In virtuous, voluptuous perfection, The lotus favors eye and mind and tongue With vigor, through life-cheering introspection Involving ever-vibrant petals white. Its blossoms affably exchange affection While practicing rhymed raptures of delight In measured, complementary reflection. Escaping deafened depths of murky mud, Poetic...
Read moreDetails. Revising Strauss It’s 1941 and Goebbels broods.It may take years for Germany to winIts Aryan war of European conquest.As Minister of Propaganda heMust keep up spirits all throughout the Reich.And what are Germans better at than music?Good, wholesome music---Wagner, Schubert, Bach.And those enchanting melodies by Strauss!Such polkas, overtures, Die...
Read moreDetailsMy Bed When life has burdened me and robbed me of an easy way, I’ve looked for succor, such as one can access every day; A simple, sweet solution to the traumas of my mind; A place where I can hide and heal, that’s never hard to find. The...
Read moreDetailsPracticing Brahms ---Piano Solo, Intermezzo, Op 118 No. 2 (1893) My Steinway's gelid laquered keys turn gauzy. The notes and markings that Johannes wrote (composed with goose-wing feather quills) now float aloft in realms of lush melodic poesy--- pining for Clara, forty fervid years la belle dame sans merci---unconsummated....
Read moreDetailsI ain't got me much Eliot and ain't ashamed to say it, and wasteland is exactly what it says it…
I like the monorhyme, Warren, and I approve this message. The dishonest are forever stepping in shit of their own…
It's a matter of taste. I generally don't think of ordinary prepositions as stressed, and since a trochaic start to…
Then, Brian, I shall have to revisit Florida, when, I hope, the red tide will not have left thousands of…
The sweet gum (Liquidambar styracifolia) is one of my favorite trees. When I was growing up in Pennsylvania we called…
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