Culture

. The Two Corteges by Joséphin Soulary (1815-1891) | translated from French by Hadyn Adams Within a church two groups of people met: An infant’s funeral cortege, the first: A woman followed, her heart fit...

. On the Cost of Doing Evil I care not if the sky burns red and human flesh is seared. I pray that all souls will just rot as many long have feared. I wait for when the birds don’t fly and locusts take the...

. Toasting Burns    His words ring out from windswept glens. __They lilt from lapping lochs. I see love through his red-rose lens; __I hear the midnight clocks In castle nooks chime Auld Lang Syne __As...

. Dystopia Reality is never what it seems To be.  It hides itself in shrouds of mist, In bulging envelopes of gilded dreams, In requisite pronations of the wrist That guides the palsied hand that holds the...

. Mourning the Dead by Li Qingzhao, Southern Song (1084-1155) | from Chinese by Talbot Hook Above in the heavens the star-river flows; Down on the earth the curtains hang low. As the air grows chill, and my...

. To Tchaikovsky by A.N. Apukhtin (1840-1893) | Translated from Russian by Olga Dumer With my musician friend’s departure A minor key pervades my lines. Yet, like a fugue’s evolving texture, Old...

. The English Cantos: StairWell Canto 4 Leaving a broken relationship of the past behind in Canto 3, the poet enters a new world of education and what that means. Before entering a specific establishment, the...

. Rescuing Contemporary Poetry from Vers Libre The conservative & informal vs. the free Before addressing my thesis, let me explain my choice of the word conservative in identifying a category of poetry,...

. The Heroes of Beijing on the Jan. 21 movie premiere of Unsilenced, just days before the Beijing Winter Olympics As great as it may be to send those hockey Pucks on icy wisps of air into A net as sweet as...

. Apocalypse The fractured sky splits, flaming at the edge— The earth heaves upwards in explosive wrath. No eye can bear the clay-caked risen dead Sleepwalking through the streets in blackened shrouds. The...

. Self-Exile "Parue—nec inuideo—sine me, liber, ibis in urbem.” —Ovid While driving underneath I had to pray: the tunnel, God, had better not cave in— as if New York could make the earth obey. My...

. O, Brother Surveillance permeates us now,__George Orwell saw it coming.Stamped social credits mark our brow,__the cityscape is humming, The virus hum, the wifi hum,__a background, humdrum silence,Something...

. The Winter Games Go On Although detainees must sleep in cramped cells on cement floors, and though they must wear shackles with their numbered uniforms, and though repression crosses Xinjiang’s pale...

. Living The Dream   “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin,   but by the content of their character.” ---Martin Luther King, Jr. The USA gives thanks---hurray For...

. Martin Luther King, Jr. Meets Today’s Left How would the Left see Dr. King Just what reaction would they bring If he today could be our guest Reviving messages expressed? How would the Left see King...

. I Grieve Bleak Streets I grieve bleak streets where handguns reign in terror Daring inner-city residents To duck and cover. Life used to be fairer Years ago, when mayors and presidents, Police, and...

. A Truthful Triolet I want the truth. I want to trust The words that trip from lips that lied. I want all doubt to fade to dust. I want the truth. I want to trust. Truth hurts. Truth heals. Truth's heart is...

. Civis Romanus Sum (I am a Roman citizen) As Paul stood bound and for the whip outstretched, He said to the centurion beside, “‘Tis lawful here for you to flog a wretch, A Roman citizen and not yet...

. The Spirit of the Anti-Mary a poem in honor of Our Lady of Gualalupe in reparation for the crime of abortion and abortion-tainted medicines All those who seek me find eternal Life, But those who sin against...

. The Artist Intuitive journey, subconscious creations refuse to diffuse while the muse makes the choice to infuse mystic magic with personal voice giving birth to original manifestations. Works will cement...

. The Lost The fog rolled heavy, down to blunt the day, Sharp skyscraper tops dissolved into the gray. Pale ghosts condensed, one here or there, lone, gaunt: Scared eyes, blank masks, as if condemned to...

. The A-bomb Dome in Hiroshima The epicentre of the blast was here, This dome, its empty ribcage gaunt and bare, It stands mute testimony to the day A Superfortress, the Enola Gay, Took to the cirrus-marbled...

. Fleet of Foot Pheidippides A Grecian runner named Pheidippides, From Athens, ran to Sparta with a plea. “We need your help to fight the Persians, please!” But Sparta sent him back with,...

. Cascading Nation Now not so much a nation as a place for pushing through a bruit cacophony of cultures in discordant synergy, dismissing calm consensus, wit, and grace as if considered discourse would...

. St. Joseph’s Admonition Forget yourself, and do what’s right, Remember how you gained your sight, So do not pause to quench your pain, Your will is strengthened by the strain, But weakened if you do not...

. It’s Coming for You! It’s coming to devour you, you know. There’s no escape no matter where you go. It waits and watches, hides behind the door With fetid breath from pathogenic spores. Far worse than...

. The Ninth Day of the Emperor's Wrath a rondeau redoublé The stadium roared at the end of the fight. In triumph the victor uplifted his sword. The emperor signaled thumbs down with cold spite. Death’s blow...

. Good Conscience Under our cauls a sleepless giber lurks, A callous judge of all our selfish smirks Who slices through our veils of self delight To show us prancing for unholy cirques. Our ego tells us to...

. Sonnet by José de Espronceda (1808-1842) | translated from Spanish by Adam Sedia Fresh, lush, pure, and perfumed luxuriantly, The blooming garden’s flair and ornament, Coxcomb perched on the stem's...

. https://youtu.be/dYyxThEY71o . An Excerpt from The Western Star for Epiphany, January 6, 2022 The road stretched out forever in the morning, giving Balthazar plenty of time and space for thought. The...

. Annuary Stichs Jamesian intricacies swarmed about the voter-counts; a massive fraud had taken place beyond the lovely mounts. Nobody had expected Apate and Dolos to ubiquitously fake vote-counts in the...

. Forever Faun In mottled shade of forest stood a faunSo still he seemed to be no living thing;The sun beamed down, already he was gone—His presence was a fleeting sign of Spring.Once in the distant past,...

. Unprofitable Servant Bergoglio clarifies his views on the Latin Mass A treasure was mine, but it’s too long ago For me to recover what now I despise. Fearful and sickened and sadly too slow I was to...

. Meditations on Ecclesiastes . Inquiry “What profit has a man for all his labor…?” ---Ecclesiastes 1: 3 None knows what all his work accomplishes; What one begins, another finishes A different way. Or,...

. The Dark Knight I’ve always held the Queen in high esteem, Her ever-classy, never brassy aura Shines noble splendour on the regal scene And blesses folk who openly adore 'er. Today the corgi-hugging...

. Last Christmas I’d rushed there through the afternoon In someone else’s borrowed car Where you, distressed I’d come too soon, Were giving samples in a jar. The last I ever spoke with you Was in that...

. “Lud's Church" or “The Green Chapel” after Sir Gawain and the Green Knight I travel to this place each New Year’s Day, To where the fluting curlew builds his nest. Upon these stegosaurus hills I...

. For Auld Lang Syne Each New Year’s Day is like a colander Through which we strain and drain away the days Of auld lang syne, throw out the calendar, And set the count-down-midnight-sky ablaze. Take down...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4HH4MeT9Mo . Read the complete poem here: https://classicalpoets.org/2013/12/12/two-psalms/#/ CREDITS Poetry: Evan Mantyk (b. 1982) Audio/Visual Work: Society of Classical...

. 20/20 Vision You’re lurking in the shadows with a wink. I see your flute of crystal, hear you pop Your cork as spirits soar and keen arms link To strains of Auld Lang Syne as clock hands...