Beauty

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 that shaped them dies, and rots away? The Cause must cede. Effect alone survives. That Life is short, and...

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 of gold. Heraldic, seméed in a field were they, Where cultivated gardens may...

  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 happened to be that they put to sea As the sun...

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, he’d throw his barbs at what he felt were dangers to the American way of...

  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 seen from on the dock, and sun-dark boys—no use for shoes— who paddled daily on Boeung...

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 from some near-insanity and folly. I have seen, beneath the...

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 here, No place for hand. My open eyes Then finally see Above this world...

  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 and grows on that far side I hear a hymn that...

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, dripping, dropping I have been a clock within a clock within a clock that...

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 planters. My dreams in spring revolve around My growing plants of many species, And...

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 time on Earth, he remains known as one of the greatest English poets...

  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, each silent, starched and stiff, perform A stoic. static, soulless pantomime As their unsmiling, frozen faces form A...

  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 through their small boutique Of jewelry, knickknacks, souvenirs; Of statuettes and china plates; Of teacups, lamps, and chandeliers; Daguerreotypes...

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 Facebook—a medium of images—and Twitter—a medium of few words, as well as of the numerous other communication technologies. Hence...

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 week and bring to bear Blight and pests with six legs creeping, To heaven we post one...

  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 del mondo ogni vertù sbandita, ond’è dal corso suo quasi smarrita nostra natura vinta dal...

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 sweet, Make the forest seem complete. This world we call the Earth, Comes into view at...

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 my views, distracting thoughts take aim at my attention; a barrage of lame...

  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 way to shades of night. As in a dream, each golden beam...

  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 time of change. The new awaits, the old must pass away. But this is autumn’s...

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 might? The gentle rain that tempers summer’s drought, Or breeze to soothe its heat,...

  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 perching birds, of twigs, of leaves; Though most designs appear archaic, Their lasting touch, my heart perceives....

  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’ words, I write, eager, and startling pleasures conceive. (But in the nights, distracted by amour I burn.) However, though...

  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 voice. I do not rejoice—I fear I have lost your ear.   Haiku remind...

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 lawn. The very first word that you learned was “water.” Thereafter you yearned ___for...

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 clearer than that of dead summer's heat. Sounds take on a different tone...

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 vacant. Try I might but efforts are in vain. My words Seem plastic, or...

Sandprints Yes: Life is pleasure, life is grand, __Life is sweet and fleeting; Alike a stroll upon the sand, __Alike a heart that’s beating In measured pace, step after step, __In meter through our days, We grow, we build, and then we ebb, __And then we wash away. The waves...

The Pain of Foreign Occupation The land lay naked under hobnailed boots Of German occupiers in The Hague. The Blitzkrieg had commenced with parachutes And covered sedate Holland like a plague. That’s how the war began, there in the west; First Rotterdam was savagely destroyed, A terrible example for the...

. . Spoke the Mansion All around be the space of a halcyon day, Some salon where discussion meets wine and croquet; There are salads of crab, on the sun-mottled court For my gracious old neighbor, the stone-crafted fort. . . I Heard the Geese I heard the geese go...

  I. Is curiosity the bane of man As seeking knowledge often leads to woe? Do only fools pass their allotted span Disclosing some things better not to know? Or is pursuit of truth its own reward, Stagnation of the mind the lesser choice? A perspicacious man is never bored,...

  "Progressive" mind accompanies the art Of writing poetry at present time. Great intellectuals from forms depart, And love free verse that spurns meter and rhyme. If poems be composed in such a way That lines consecutive are relevant, They may attract the readers’ snort today Though they convey what...

Keeping the Door Ant hordes scurried in purposeful files; Angry, alert, full to demonic marching: They came in batteries to batter: _____But I kept the door. Worms twisted achingly upwards into wiles Of air and ever coiled most arching On pathways which would be straighter, later; _____But I kept the...

Song of the Crab Nebula in celebration of 50 years after Apollo 11 Long before the first eyes ever saw me __Floating like a ghost upon the night, Long before human minds even feebly __Pierced beyond their dimly shrouded sight, I was there, though clothed in different raiment, __Blazing like...

Of All God’s Living Creatures Of all God’s living creatures only we With subtle artifice create our style Of dress and image, and with painted smile Construct the me we want the world to see. Though what they are is all that they can be, Would any beast consider it...

a villanelle Ye let it flow, the bitter brine, let flow! How long you hold it back, those snowy streams! Don't stop their course, until they touch your toe! Your past congealed as solid misery and present still a volatile daydream! Ye let it flow, the bitter brine, let flow!...

inspired by “The Lady of Shalott” by Tennyson Part I The forests loom at Nottinghamshire. The river oaks still aiming higher, Surround the field where from the byre The cattle trample through the briar ____Down to the surly water. The gristmill stands along the shore As barefoot on the sawdust...

The Moon Festival, also known as the Mid-Autumn Festival, is a traditional holiday that celebrates the Harvest Moon (the full moon nearest the Fall Equinox).    Through Mists of Tears The moon shines sharp through mists of tears, Gas, thick bullets, shields en masse. Socialist police bring fears: A preview...

. Quiet Night Pondering by Li Bai (701-762) A bed before the bright moonlight. Does frost below lie on these halls? I lift my head: the moon is bright. I lower it—my homeland calls! . Original Chinese 靜夜思 李白 床前明月光 疑是地上霜 舉頭望明月 低頭思故鄉 . . Century X Quatrain 74 by...

by T.M. Moore I had just finished teaching one of the adult classes at our church on the meaning of Christmas, using John Milton’s Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity as my text. We examined many aspects of this great poem—themes, development, structure and rhyme scheme, poetic devices, and...