Culture

  The Age of Poetry They say that poetry’s a young man’s game, indulged while still limber, lithe, and healthy enough to dance all night with energy. Without concern for funding and fickle fame, artists, in their youth, burning with passion’s flame, can better ignore the bruises of poverty, the...

  In Officio Exsequarium Come, let us bid the last of our farewells To one who sleeps on the retiring ship; November’s breath respires the mournful knells; “Lord, give him rest” is murmured lip to lip. What is our life, if not a morning dew, A flash of light upon...

Autumn Wind by Yuan Xi, translated by Jennifer Zeng and Damian Robin From far off, Autumn wind runs at us in a rush! Across a thousand miles, displacing clouds with sky, (And crowding through the dark, tense soldiers in a hush), Then past the cliff, through countless pines, like echoes...

Hallowe’en by Sheri-Ann O'Shea Oh! Hallowe’en is not about the grave __Or ghosts or horrors fit to make men rave It’s not about black witches and black cats __Or goats or toads or spider webs or bats There’s nought in it of skeletons in chains __Or blood or leering heads...

John of the Mountains To him we owe a mammoth debt, our grateful thanks and praise, For the lasting conservation trails with foresight he did blaze. A “voice calling in the wilderness,” like John the Baptist, he Preached love of God’s Creation – mountain, waterfall, and tree. When first he...

The Ballerina Just before the break of day she woke from dreams of grand jeté and knelt beside her bed to pray. Like a feather, then she rose and slipped into her warm-up clothes to dance in silence on her toes. Evening and the house lights fell. Curtain up! she...

As yet untouched by any writer’s thought you’re still pristine and perfectly unspoiled. Just like a botox-frozen face that ought to pull and stretch, from life you have recoiled. Expressionless, your stare does challenge me to get the better of my writer’s block. Hypnotic blankness prohibited shall be; my creativity...

by Evan Mantyk Where is Homer? The epic poems of the famous Greek bard were the cornerstone of education for young Socrates, Alexander the Great, Roman emperors, William Shakespeare, and every serious scholar in the Western world until the last 50 years. Yet, today they have nearly disappeared from school...

(poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) The Viacruces del Migrante, migrant caravan, which started out two hundred strong has grown to thousands, and keeps on increasing as it travels north through Mexico, on foot, on trucks, these many moving thousands on the go. What does Honduras have for them, or Guatemala...

Birthday Greetings As themes show signs of nature's stay, And time’s propitious dates hold sway, The evidence augurs your bloom, From sculptured years that now have hewn A shapened belle upon a theme, Appears today, your beauty’s seam, Enjoined! auspicious perfect pair, The past, has futured you so fair.  ...

Sonnet 201. The Force that Through the Green Fuse Pulls the Poem. Written in the Dylan Thomas Museum, Swansea. July 2017 Oh to be the Poet! Love the words And see them wound around the teeth and tongue, To shake the shingle from the seas-absurd, To dance upon the dragons’...

by Joseph Charles MacKenzie Read the Selected Poems from Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal online. Email [email protected] for details on purchasing the book. Two arts are beautifully displayed in Helen Palma’s Selected Poems from Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal (Pivot Press, New York, 2014). The first and most obvious is...

  I woke this day beside the two-way Wye, at peace with wars too often waged inside between the push of how, the pull of why. The river, calm against the ebbing tide, displayed an ease I had not seen before, and I was easy too (or close, at least, for one with...

by Manfred Dietrich The world is riddled with riddles. Riddling is as old and as ubiquitous as language itself. When God invited Adam to name the beasts and the beauties of creation, he showed that each naming was an answer to the universal riddle, “What am I called?” Much later,...

Dark Devil’s Pool, where Spirit of the Tweed __Conceived the first-born of the Tuede clan; __Each maiden fair, and muckle braw each man, __With “Thol and Think” their battle-cry and creed. They built a keep, a refuge most secure, __Where sheep and children could be taken in __When English raiders...

“Religion is an opiate of the masses,” So says the Prof. lecturing to his classes. “College used to be a carrier pigeon For this terrible thing called ‘religion.’ Where all were forced to swallow orthodoxy, And stick to dogma like epoxy. Now all have freedom to have points of view,”...

by Charles Eager William Wordsworth was born in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in 1770—the same year as gave us Beethoven, Hegel, and Hölderlin—and died at the age of eighty, rich in the knowledge of his huge accomplishments, in Rydal Mount, Westmorland, in 1850. In those eighty years, Wordsworth brought a unique poetry...

For John McCain, Ernest C. Brace, & Alexander Solzhenitsyn I season my pen with the sonnet's blood, And do not reason with a moonless sky, Thus, in durance, we hearken to the wry Whisper of words from the drifting brood Of dreams courting a wistful brotherhood; Ah, now I need...

I . The Accused: “Your Honor… And if I were a troubled lad and if indeed I did go bad, it matters not what I've done since? No point in trying to convince when crushed between the iron jaws of merciless inhuman laws. Can I forgive those who would shame...

—from A Gallery of Ethopaths* For those of us who cherish text, There’s anguish in what I’ll say next. The world of letters, by tradition, Was one of grace, style, erudition— A shrine to language at its best, A temple of the precious blest Who had achieved the very heights...

The Coworker A “need-to-know” it’s called in Personnel and I’m just high enough to need to know she’s going through that quiet hell of watching someone’s life she loves recede. A bit more hollowed every day, a bit more bleakly by his suffering obsessed, she does her work, she types,...

After RFK __I’m named for one about whom Lowell wrote That doom was woven in his veins. In June Of 1968, my father trained To blow-up bridges at an Army base In the Show Me State when news ambushed The fort with word that Bobby had been shot. __I’m named...

by James Sale Wind in the Cave, Finishing Line Press, 2017 Out of Nothing, Shanti Arts Publishing, 2018 Recently in a poetry review of another poet on these pages I commented that the poet had included 33 poems in his collection and speculated whether or not that had any significance;...

Translation by Evan Mantyk "The Ballad of Mulan" was written in the sixth century about a legendary warrior, Hua Mulan, who lived during China’s Northern and Southern dynasties period (420–589 AD).   Sigh after sigh she sadly sighs __While weaving near the door— No sound of spinning loom that flies...

. The Country Club To think about a country club Begun for whisky in a tub, Distilled from fields of golden corn In a town where I was born, For folks to gather, have a blast In golden days, in time long past. . Rushing There is no right way...

Check-Mate by a Pawn for my sons We parry, thrust: This game of wits, Where each pawn must Deflect your hits. My mounted knight Skips overhead, First back, then right; Your knight is dead. But you riposte, With bishop swift, My rook, engrossed, Forgets to shift. And then, I spot...

Sonnet for a Cosmetic Company Ah Youth! To whom each maiden plights her troth To coax and woo each winsome charm to stay ‘Tis difficult to match your coat to cloth So ill designed and irksome in its way. Synthetic paints can never reproduce The artistry of Nature’s first success...

Lay your hand in mine dear, ___Lay your hand in mine; If you will lay your hand in mine We shall like eager, fruitful vines ___Intertwine: Then I’ll be yours ___And you’ll be mine. Place your lips to mine dear, ___Place your lips to mine; If you will place your...

Left to Write It isn't difficult to find __the works the masters left behind, and others too have written verse, __some for the better, some for worse. So can there still be ground to break, __and are there chances yet to take; secrets that haven't been revealed, __emotions that remain concealed?...

. Written: March 27, 2022 A Wedding Sonnet To those true cultivators of Zhen Shen Ren,* There is no common form we cannot take: The vows of love said by the finest men Know of no finer sound than what we make. We know the greatest love flows as a...

My Wife Is Clad in Cloth From Head to Foot My wife is clad in cloth from head to foot. How deep her eyes, how vast and sane her eyes. As we leave, I drink her clear brown eyes Then she walks behind me by a foot. The buggy that...

  Things shifted for them suddenly From seeing their folks in the morn To mourning their folks in the sea.   Mike Ruskovich lives in Grangeville, Idaho. He taught high school English for thirty-six years. He and his wife have four children.

Three Loves in One We've gathered Love, but only insofar As we have reaped a crop from seeds we've sown. Those hours we cherished our beloved are The most rewarding times we've ever known, Which bears a certain similarity To what occurs through strangers we behold: Each freely-given act of...

a Petrarchan sonnet Highlighting midnight across darkened skies flies the Supermoon hidden in all of its glory; though sightless and somber, a maker of stories soon reaching its perigee, near us it flies. Celestial body whose mystery lies in a facial expression now laden with quarries to whom we confess...

. https://youtu.be/9h-79BVeByw . Open Heart Surgery The best day of your life; a child is born! Start out happy, but get ready to mourn. You'll try to keep them from all of life's danger, "Don't eat that and don't talk to a stranger." You read them the same ridiculous book,...

Nobody came today to ask me questions, nor has anyone asked me for anything this afternoon. I have not seen a single graveyard flower In all this merry procession of lights. Forgive me, Master; how little I have died! —César Vallejo (Agape) 1918. Yesterday I heard the Catalan tongue, Some...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Venezuelan Woes by Lud Wes Caribee As Socialist experiment Venezuela sinks into far greater depths, a plunging country on the brink, Maduro, striving for an orderly recovery, has pegged the bolivar to petro cryptocurrency. He has increased the minimum wage sixty-some percent; the problem...

This villanelle is a tribute to the Rust Belt, and all the communities devastated when corporations close their American plants in pursuit of cheaper labor abroad. Where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain bleeding shades of layered shame on blight-lined highways below, their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we...

Musical Comedy or Doggerel for Dilettantes The Sonata Like a Classical sonata, our day opens with a theme, Whether thrown from bed by thunder or lulled softy from a dream. With our breakfast comes a second theme, which contrasts with the first, And includes both toast and cereal and juice...

Canto 3 is the third canto in the sequence of the English Cantos, the first two of which are available to read on the SCP website. James Sale is attempting in this poem to emulate Dante, and this begins, initially, by descending into a modern day hell. Whilst the poem...