Culture

Miles hastatus (spearman) of the Legio Decima Fretensis, stationed in Roman Judaea, A.D. 33 Vere, filius Dei erat iste. —Roman centurion at the crucifixion, noted in Matthew 27:54. They say he was the King of Jews. In fact We nailed a wooden title to his cross In Latin, Greek, and...

This Collar, Blue My elbows leak with grease And all my toes are laid with steel I'm rough of neck My knuckles specked with cuts that never heal The world I mend The swirls on plastic lens paints squalor's view Ah, but still, I'd never trade this collar, blue  ...

About the Lady Godiva and her famed naked ride through Coventry Once in the town of Coventry, Leofric Earl had held decree; Too great the tax that he appealed, Greater than his folk could yield. They had endured their master’s needs, None but one spake ‘gainst misdeeds; His dearest wife,...

by Jane Blanchard George Herbert was born into a well-to-do and well-doing family of Montgomery, Wales, in 1593. When he was three years old, his father died, leaving a wife and ten children. Herbert nevertheless received a marvelous education, including studies at Westminster School in London and at Trinity College...

  The Maid of Orleans A villanelle on Joan of Arc As I gazed at the flames of the fire my heart, with all there that day, broke – such strength could not help but inspire. A young woman burnt as a liar bound to a stake made of oak,...

Winter’s Nocturn       When angles of the sun are shining low, Intuition tells us we must sleep. Nocturnal tracks appear now in the snow To mark the chilly vigil some must keep. Enlightened constellations rule the skies, Reminding us that distant worlds must be, So vast the universe,...

Statues A Villanelle Two Buddhas now a lost reality, A crowd chants loudly near a pile of stone; Across the South you won’t find General Lee. The temples fell despite UNESCO’s plea And ISIS’ pledge to leave the past alone; Two Buddhas now a lost reality. For Durham’s statue lax...

For Bill Horn Send up on wings of blood our fathers’ cry, Though the unhearing dead brook not your sound, And flesh yet binds us to the groaning ground, Release your paeans to the boundless sky, And let your vibratory voices fly Beyond the veils of earth, above, around! O...

At night I hear Prokofiev and Liszt and dream of playing baby grands as sly Euterpe lures me towards the melodies of pianists. My fingers cannot meet the demands of Mendelssohn’s complicated chords; they dance instead atop computer keys and feign the sleight of Mozart’s hands, fluttering like hummingbirds, composing...

Theological But there’s a God, white-knuckled, jealous, His heart an anvil, and his mind a bomb. Take the crew of The Indianapolis,* Torn limb from sculling limb inside a storm Of sharks. There is no sleep within that slick Of blood, only that gray mumbling that turns A prayer into...

Sonnet I: Liu Haixiao Mr. Liu Haixiao (pronounced Leo High-shaow) is serving a 16-year prison sentence in Jilin Province, China, where he was arrested for tapping into the local TV network to broadcast programs that debunk state propaganda demonizing Falun Gong. He has been given opportunities to walk free contingent...

A rhupunt A modern place that maintains grace a safer place for all who come The airplanes fly the city sky the mountains high you're never numb never alone away from home in temples roam to gods you'll hum No silenced love no eyes above a place free of dictators...

  You Decide Some know me as Destiny, The weaver of the cloth of Time. Although my looms are never stilled, They say I choose how high you’ll climb, How fast you’ll fall, how great your name; I am the ruler of the game. Others think of me as Fate....

The Day the Poetry Died Wonder why poetry is in decline, While not ever writing one lyric line? There is no experience more perverse, Than self-indulgent poems in free verse. Your pain, your angst, and existential doubt, Pretension endured day in and day out. Deep thoughts, believed you’re the first...

After Joachim du Bellay’s "Les Regrets LXVIII" I hate the Florentines' foul avarice, I hate lewd Sienese profanity, I hate Geneva's glib duplicity, I hate malign Venetian artifice, I hate whate'er Ferrara does amiss, I hate the Lombards' infidelity And Neapolitan diversity, And lazy Rome's loquacious cowardice. I hate how...

The Cymbal Player As bows and fingers quiver strings, as lungs and lips whip up the air, as notes soar on great falcon wings, one player, seated in his chair like a finch hid in a maple tree, as if the creature wouldn’t dare trill out above the symphony (perhaps...

by Lew Icarus Bede "A sonnet is a coin: its face reveals The soul—its converse, to what Power 'tis due: Whether for tribute to the august appeals Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue, It serve; or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath, In Charon's palm it pay the...

  Self-Love Some tenderhearted people claim We’re deficient self-esteem; Yes, a collective sense of shame Made despondency mainstream. While gloom and sadness are the rage, I suggest the torment of Depression in our present age Arises from self-love. Narcissus so adored his face It became his food and drink. Of...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch in vacant mood I lie I feel their wealthy fluttering draw near. I see them toss their heads like twinkling stars; A sparkling, sprightly, jocund company. I gaze, I gaze,...

  The toys we buy at Christmastime (The decorations, too), Don’t come from elves in Santa’s shop, As we’ve been told they do. The “Made in China” label can Be found upon these wares, And points to one of modern man’s Most scandalous affairs. They’re made by Chinese workers in...

On the occasion of his birthday, 160 years ago, on February 27, 1848  At the Solitary Age of Twelve—Seven and Twelve Being Holy Numbers The first of seven early music books Reveals a boy methodical as Bach. He studies Bach’s first 48. He looks In detail, analyzing. “Let us talk,”...

  Living with Omnibenevolence Each one of us is furnished with an expiration date, And no one living has the power to elude his fate. There comes a time when every living creature has to die, But some will rest beneath the earth, and others in the sky. The latter...

It’s a vicious process, sonnet writing. It seems as every time I near the goal a syllable or rhyme eludes me, rendering my poetry somewhat droll. I feel empathy for those who struggle and a growing sense of hate for masters, those who can weave such beautiful meaning into these...

He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. The misreporting of great Caesar’s death Errs by one gross omission. We’re not told That when conspirators bared blades to strike, Caesar’s well-practiced military eye Glimpsed the quick flash of metal. He reacted As any soldier would, and cried aloud “Why,...

This life—O, how much more of it remains? The night is brief. Toward those short trees, we saw a bird, descending with our grief. Chris Hixon, Aaron Feis, Scott Beigel vanished in the day. Luke Hoyer, Meadow Pollack, Carmen Schentrup went away. Helena Ramsey, Alex Schachter, Jaime Gutenberg: alas their...

Which Is the Grandest Name of All? Which is the grandest name of all? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Winter sere or crimson fall Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Who held bold freedom’s flag so high Who gave brass tyrants all the lie Who forged in us the strength to die? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill!...

“But it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffending individual…so I let him alone.” —Major Patrick Ferguson, British Expeditionary Force What if it had been a different man Scouting along the Brandywine that day Near Chad’s Ford, where the fleet-flowing creek ran Wide through the wooded...

Fenghan Gao was an outstanding artist of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912 AD). He had profound wisdom and was multi-talented; he was good at writing poems and good at painting, especially landscapes and flowers. He was also good at seal carving. The famous painter Banqiao Zheng’s many seals were carved by...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjc_6R0ang8&feature=youtu.be   It was once thought that swallows wintered on the moon, or morphed into field mice beneath the autumn swoon of clouds, or slept beneath wavelets on the floor of shadowy ponds and lakes until the sudden lure of springtime roused them from the kingdom of the dead. Early...

  Like feathered tip of swooping sparrow Our kinship cuts like that of arrows A brother’s love has weakened me I’ll take the slice, so brother be Shivered dreams of days that past Rivers gleam to drown mine fast Our friendship sank and swept to sea I’ll learn to swim,...

In another lifetime I was William Blake When I saw his work That was my take He wrote about love And the human heart I thought I was him Right from the start He wrote about London Tiger burning bright His influence looms In whatever I write He wrote about...

Those Days and These “‘. . . Macbeth does murther sleep.’” —William Shakespeare If only such a villain were __Alone in this regard, The course of human history __Would prove to be less hard. Mythology and scripture are __Replete with deadly deeds Conducted by those seeking to __Meet wants as...

  Between the trees, along the path I hear the woodpecker tap tap tap. Beneath the bridge, cyclists roll through Pedaling and laughing two by two. Friends holding hands, walkers with dogs, A spring in their step, the jogger jogs, On and on with strolling feet Hoping I'll find some...

Flower of Choice On native Australian flowers The wattle bears her gold in early spring As luminescent beads on woody strings, Spreading perfume ‘til the mild air brings Sweetness deep to every living thing. Diverting our attention from the gold, The waratah with fiery head unfolds Above alternate leaves each...

By Carter Davis Johnson In a period where American literature was considered peripheral and amateur, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) helped create a national literature to challenge European authors. His poetry heralded the unique mythology, history, and nature of America. With lucid imagery and accessible meter, Longfellow became a leading poet and...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Hylas and the Nymphs by Beau Ecs Wilder John William Waterhouse's "Hylas and the Nymphs" must go; enchanting, pretty, water nymphs are far too much to show. Manchester Art has claimed it is unsuitable right now. It is offensive, and it must be censored,...

  The Last Time I Saw Paris You have imagined how it was, I expect: Troy’s famous towers burning, the city wrecked, the lines of weeping captives marched away, the streets strewn with corpses, the shore blood-flecked. And the woman  who caused it all:  why, me! Crying to  throw myself...

    Sort of Old I take my senior discount at restaurants and stores. I cover up my gray hairs with Clairol reservoirs My bathroom’s filled with potions I slather on my face. AHAs and Retinols are things that I embrace. No longer do I tuck in my skirts and...

At Lincoln’s Tomb Springfield, Illinois, 2016 Be glad you cannot rise to life and stand Outside that tomb to die again from shame At Illinois, your home, your prairieland, Transformed, yet quick to arrogate your name – A land of ruined hope, no longer great, Where silent foundries waste away...

Truman Capote was fired from his job as a copy boy for The New Yorker after he angered Robert Frost. Whose kid this is, I do not know, He seems to have a job here, though. He’s irritating, and quite fey, If they ask me, he’s got to go. He...