Culture

. The Crimson Creed We know the primal aggregate, Self-molded at the start of time, Before the Big Bang uppercut Made all the cosmic flotsam rhyme. We know that two plus two is five. The world’s alive...

. The Marble Angel The marble angel stood upon a tomb Erect and at attention, wings outspread, His blank eyes watching through the growing gloom, Like some mute sentry sent to guard the dead. I saw him...

. . Shoveling Out the Blizzard Snow came so thick, the roof makes pops and creaks; downspouts froze solid as cement with ice; while working on the walk, you’ve fallen twice: The cold shines through your...

. Anthony Comstock: An Extended Dactylic Higgledy, piggledy, Anthony Comstock, the Toughest enforcer of morals to date, Couldn’t stand looking at nude female pulchritude Due to his stern puritanical...

. The Taxman Cometh Get out your Number Two and calculate Your taxable income; what, if anything, You owe. The taxman doesn’t like to wait, And government has to fill its money chest. That hated agency, the...

. Peacemakers Islam is sometimes referred to as the Religion of Peace Go on, won’t you bless the peacemakers— The ones who make peace with the beasts. They think that would take them like Meccans Around...

. Captain Francisco Menendez Born a Mandinga, on Africa’s west coast, Where farm and hunting toil supported most, But tribal spats and small jihads maintained For centuries a brutal trade in slaves, This...

. . Peaches, Plums, and the Sistine Chapel . . I. Pondering Prufrock   a pantoum  . The women come and then they go As foggy muzzles nuzzle air. There’s talk of Mike and Angelo. Time strides...

. Authenticity Some skies stark and vivid, But others milky white. Sometimes lovely azure skies, Or pale with fading light. Some skies gray and gloomy, Yet others black as night. Skies! Their...

. . Maura H. Harrison is a writer, photographer, and fiber artist from Fredericksburg, VA. She is currently an MFA candidate in Creative Writing at the University of St. Thomas, Houston.  Her works have...

. You Can't Control Everything You can't control the wind that blows, The destiny of others' souls, Time and tides and what they bring--- You can't control everything. Blame volcanoes for ash and dust, It...

. Ipse Dixit I say Cogito ergo sum To the animal here in the room. So how do I know I exist? Well, here’s a provisional list: I doubt, and I fear, and I bleed; I attend to a friend who’s in need. The...

. Last Visit to the Beach a sestina The beach, untouched by Time throughout the years As millions of waves washed from the sea, As Time transformed me, now no more a boy, Where I would walk each season on that...

. Quilting the News Lots of people still don’t know __that what’s portrayed as “news” is often pieced together to __promote the crafters’ views. Like sculptors with a block of clay, __the crafters...

. . February 14, 2024 A heart of burning love, an ashen cross Converge today: the marriage of two kinds Of love. The feast day is St. Valentine’s--- Which, this year, intersects Ash Wednesday: Eros United...

. Ash Wednesday Valentines by Charles d’Orléans (1394-1465), translated by Margaret Coats . I. Who’s there? Who comes so early, who? “It’s I myself.” Saint Valentine, you! Why turn up now at...

. I Am the Stone I am the stone The humble stone the barefoot shepherd boy Selected from the muddy river bed; The stone which fit inside the sling he made As soon as he was given leave by Saul To fight for...

. The Southern Cross The caravels escaped at last The roiling tides of Bojador And entered tropic seas far past What any chart described before--- __An unknown world to cross. Strange southern seas! Unending...

. . Nocturnal Litany I “From all malevolence the night employs….” ---James Agee, “Epithalamium” . From all malevolence the night employs To haunt our ragged hearts and weary brains With bitterness...

. Love Sonnet The glint of summer’s evening leaves a glow upon her cheek, so soft and plain and fair— the glister of the twilight hours show the rosebuds, luminescent in her hair. And all the earth now...

. The Austrian Non Placet Comes in Time (Recess at the papal conclave in Rome, August 1903. One cardinal speaks to a small group of his allies) Two ballots done already. I perceive Things are not going our...

. The Screaming Screed and Stench Sister Cindy, Brother Jed, Before the cellphone, rumor spread, "They're speaking on the Common, dude, Their testimony's waxing crude!" Pioneer, the sawdust trail, Jed and...

. Babel There was a time when all the world one tongue Among its peoples shared, and language preened Itself with fluffed-up thoughts that oversprung The bounds of things as yet quite unforeseen. Man set about...

. Paradise Island Some years ago, from cliff top and from shore,a flock of birds that never touched the skylooked out upon an ocean ship that borea biped crew from whom they could not fly.These creatures,...

. My Beatrice III Affording still these glimpses like the first, those moments you were yet without a name; between us was the distance untraversed: the bringing into being what you became. Four times I...

. A Musical Offering When Bach arrived at Sanssouci, King Frederick said, “Sir, you must be tired. My fortepianos may help to revive you. Please, come play.” While Bach was busy at the keys, the king...

. Off Guard Coyotes drag their quarry past the line  Drawn in the sand to stop the ghastly game   Of selling wide-eyed tots to vile swine---   No money-grubbing cur is barred by shame. Wild mules haul...

. Left Outside The shopping cart, precisely ordered now while searching for those perfect little lines of lights for decorations---anyhow, I'm sure there must be something that combines with lights around the...

. Sunshine Sun, shine on me—come and stay! Dry my tears, send gloom away. Warm my soul, chilled to the bone By the freezing wind that’s blown. With your reassuring light Put my griefs and fears to...

. In a Home based on Michael Bunker’s grandmother (b. 1909) as described in his book Surviving Off Off-Grid . I Old, blind, and helpless, Grandma’s all alone— Bed, radio, phone, and nothing...

. A Pro Who Can Con “Truth” is whatever will further the movement. You’re “credible” if you are telling the “truth.” “School” is my method to inculcate values into the minds of our pliable...

. A Blanket of Snow from childhood memories of the blizzard of 1949 on a farm near Bonesteel, South Dakota. The world is all bound in a blanket of snow, The kerosene lamps keep the windows aglow. The fire...

. Unshackling the Spirit I toss and turn at night. I wonder why I’m here. But then with dawn the skeptic’s free, Dismissing faith and scoffing at the sky. I’m certain---Oh so certain---all I see Is...

. Once the Future You were the future once, not long ago. Your sterile walls of concrete, brick, and glass Outlined in steel, and jutting angles show Scorn for the forms you thought you could surpass. That...

. Learning to Laugh The pathos of a circus clown, with empty pockets inside out, now challenges a small boy’s frown. Bewildered by the mimicked pouts, the racoon eyes and painted tears, he wonders what this...

. I Can’t Be Bought I can’t be bought. They always pan my poems and they have a plan to pay me if I will agree to stop composing poetry. They say I am an also-ran. Who cares if they are not a fan! My trek...

. Windjam Dry leaves abruptly fell that day— Whirled weathervane communiqué Proposing a quick stroll away Along a narrow inlaid path To venture past the aftermath Of an alfresco yellow bath. Emerging from...

. What Time Is It? “What time is it?” he asks of me, __“It’s now eleven o’clock;” “What time is it?” he asks of me, __As I hear the tick and tock. “What time is it?” he asks of...

. A Star O silent sphere of silver-soft-spun light,Thou crystal pearl strung on an airy veilSuffusing bright celestial delightIn snowy glory o'er thy starry trail:The bridal necklace of the night inflameWith...

. The Plight of a Troubled Young Soul Parts I and II are paraphrases of actual notes. . I. Not Today I know I’m ill; I am not well. In truth, I want to end it all. I want to toll my own death knell. I wish...