Culture

  Perhaps the color of your world was dun, And you sank in your couch when work was done, To calculate injustice, add the sum, Saw all was brown, but rays of silver light Which sent you out to locate evil, fight. You were a fighter with a dark, harsh...

  From cradle to the grave, From womb to musty tomb, The sanity I crave Is in a dining room With family gathered there: Thanksgiving, on a chill November day—no tare Subtracted, if good will Shall draw us ever close. Libations may besot, Yet rare the overdose Where blessings are...

  There Is a River There is a river that I know that flows through quiet meadowland Nearby a row of cottages which by a levee quaintly stand. I saw that river long ago, when one day, to amuse myself I built a jigsaw puzzle which my parents kept upon...

The Plight of Animals The plight of animals, how must it be Ordained thus, either by a just God or A merciful? By nature meek and poor, They have no hopes, no future can they see And all they own their living now as we. No retrospect, their past is...

  by Caud Sewer Bile A deep state run by rulers lacking thought, a young, unschooled, and mad mob living low, corruption's muddy rivers running hot, a lapdog mainstream media in tow, a land where thugs promote liberticide, a censoring of varied points of view, an honoured constitution tossed aside,...

Reflections on a Dead Whale The sound of surf; the scratch of sand on feet; The sight of distant ships; the taste of salt; And on the gentle springtime ocean breeze The putrid, pungent, rotting stench of death. A behemoth, a California Gray, A biblical leviathan, as still as stone....

  Palermo’s great basilica is still— All prayers are tongueless for a lonely hour. Here high and holy silence can be breathed Like incense from the smoking thuribles Swung by acolytes at solemn mass. Antonello’s Virgin turns her eyes Ever so gently to one side. Perhaps The sacristan has shuffled...

  What might, what gold does Ithaca hold to vex us; Enthralled ‘till when, by whom, for what, and where? Do not the mermaids sing the song that wakes us to pleasured, pampered mornings in their arms and hair? Explain to me the madness of the twice-seduced to shun and...

Translations by Terry L. Norton. Original Latin by Phaedrus follows each. The Red Kite and the Doves When doves had from a certain kite fled And by the swiftness of their wings escaped, The wily bird of prey unto them said, “Why let your lives by constant fear be shaped?...

  1. THEATRE Strolling Players Dancers, actors, acrobats! Stripey trousers, floppy hats! They weren’t born to swing a scythe, pay a toll or weigh a tithe. Not for them the horny hand, tied to tilling leaden land. They will never need to chew on millet bread or turnip stew. Red...

Winter's Call O, can you hear her? Yonder autumn days? A siren's voice, as silent steps she takes? Her nuanced hymn brings frosty morning haze, And warns the trees to brace for pearly flakes. Her feigned allure she pairs with lovely sights, And softly laughs when warmth she steals from...

Ode to Leonidas, King of Sparta by Ian Williams Stern Sire and Father of the ancient West! Sacred, your primogeniture appears before the pride of Xerxes’ bloodied Best, “Immortals” bowed before these few brave spears. What fertile earth awaits the Asian horde? What day is come, abroad the sun-sparked seas?...

The Rime of the Balanced Boxes after Samuel Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner Part I Now, the training time had ended, The conference day was done, So, the teachers left the building, Their hearts and minds as one. They’d crafted no new teaching tools That might help students learn;...

Still Going It may appear that I’ve run out of chances, No more to rise from absolute defeat, Victim of most hostile circumstances— I laugh, and drag myself back to my feet. Never assume you’ve seen the last of me; Can’t crush my spirit, can’t snuff out my light. I...

Moloch Beneath the sands and salted fields there lies A desert land of men once prosperous And proud. They raised a gilded city With their queen, a grander one than any Left behind, free and full of life—now dust, Now burned, now dead, a place the gods despise, A pyre...

  The above images are from the pro-democracy protests going on right now in Hong Kong, as the populace peacefully resists communist-controlled authorities. Today, there are no free elections in Hong Kong and the region's chief executive is appointed by the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) in Beijing. The image on...

“Look not on the face, young girl, look at the heart.” —Quasimodo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame A vile, lumbering mass, so hideous, Rejected and despised by every eye That fears and is repulsed by odious Perversions of our kind. You horrify And shock the average sensibility For which all...

Two original poems for Veterans Day 2019: "Veterans Day" by Roy E. Peterson and "Glory Glimpsed" by T.M. Moore

  The Journey Home Enwrapped in flesh we come to earth, Created in our Maker's image, Where from the moment of our birth We're parties to a mortal scrimmage. Just where the days ahead will find us Remains a shrouded mystery, But voices in the night remind us, Despite our...

The Tricoteuses The starving market women marched, marched on Versailles with kitchen knives; both marching and not marching meant they were endangering their lives. The ball got rolling, and the king was soon removed from absolute pow’r; then they were prevented from reaping their risky labour’s fruit. The new regime,...

  Owe no one anything but to love one another. —Romans 13.8 What shallowness, what an impoverished view of human life, that reckons men to be machines that will dispense whatever we desire if only we are careful to insert the right amount of cash. That peace and justice can...

by Caud Sewer Bile Elitist, social climbing parvenu, reclusive expert in the CIA, in touch with DNC dirt-digging too, caught leaking from the White House in the day, came forth in utter anonymity in lieu of no-one doing anything, accusing Trump of quid-pro policy recoiled at corruption happening, a point...

Black Cat a poem derived from "Schwarze Katze" by Rainer Maria Rilke, as translated by Martin Hill Ortiz A crash! I spot a ghost that bumps Eliciting my startled stare. A shadow shifts; a black pelt jumps— Soon all I see is darkness there. In fullest rage, the mad thing...

On the Untimely Demise of My Hair In days gone by when life for me looked bright, And I rejoiced in the clear dawn of youth, My hair filled my soul with such sweet delight That soon my locks became my only truth. Time hurried past as fast as a...

  Sarnia Bound To the Sarnian shores, I´ll set my course when the sky at dawn turns pale, And the sea waves glow with sun-streaked foam and a chill wind fills the sail. Till the end of day, I'll make my way out across the boundless deep, While a sea...

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 below.    

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 bushes Resound with song! And joy and wonder Streams from each breast. Oh Earth! Oh Sun! Oh joy without rest!...

  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 means we’ll seal a DEAL for an amicable split. It pains my...

  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 bleat; Where we watched tadpoles dart in the roadside rill’s flow, For I was...

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...

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...

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...

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 strips all speech of honesty) don’t force me to embrace all you declare then name and...