Culture

(All poems by Bruce Dale Wise) Another Mass Murder in the News by Bilee Wad Curse He was an atheist who called churchgoers "stupid" on his Facebook pages where he posted "She's a bad bitch" gun, an AR-15 semiautomatic that he used to murder at least twenty-six in bloody-hell diffused....

  A Hardcover Book Carrying a hardcover book instead of a small electronic tool I get polite, benevolent smiles seemingly reserved for the old; people ask, “How old’s your Bible?” as if following some rule. I’m asked it so often I’m disappointed if not asked—you’ll find it easy to believe...

  Inscription on the Golden Gate, Constantinople (Translation) Commemorating Emperor Theodosius' Victory over the usurper, Maximus, at the Battle of the Save in 388 AD. Theodosius was the last emperor to rule over both the Eastern and Western Roman Empire.  These acres Theodosius gilded on the Tyrant's fate; He brought...

  Just west of old Ben Lomond, high and gray, a downy-heathered island on a loch did soak our feet before we rowed away for western shores, to find a little dock in Luss. A pot of tea to warm our bones, and meat pies, piping hot, our stomachs fill....

Sweet Recollections an awdl gywydd Tea time, just my mom and me… ___memories so sweet and dear, knowing I was her first choice; ___still her voice is crystal clear. Some of my favorite hours. ___fresh cut flowers in a vase, aroma drifting after, ___her bright laughter giving chase. Drinks poured...

  Canzone 4 For Bob Hunter I am your eyes now, imaging memories, Amiens, Ypres, Flanders and the Somme; And in my secret world the pale dawn holds Out her hand bearing gifts that sight unfolds; But you have seen men in the sacred rites Of death, limbs twisted, bones...

  End Rhyme Send in a poem they pretentiously beckon But they will not read any rhyming of rhymes There's no place now for creative wordsmithing Prose is the darling, full of self absorbed whines The obtuse, the indulgent, the prosaic, they'll read And heap platitudes endlessly, on genius they'll...

  Rioja is a land of wine. It’s famous in both fact and fable. It’s really not okay to dine Without a bottle of that fine Rioja beverage on your table! Now, it is red, full-bodied, sweet, A wine that’s either old or young. For young, the price cannot be...

  Scorn “Enargeîs is the technical term ‘for divine epiphany: a word that contains the dazzle of “white,” argós, which comes to designate a pure, unquestionable “conspicuous-ness” ’ ”.  ~ Michael Schmidt, The First Poets, 19 I wonder if perhaps we moderns know This brilliant whiteness much more clearly than...

An Introduction to Poetry and Its Place in an Integral Human Formation Introduction  It is well known to most sensible educators that one of the fundamental goals of their profession is the so-called “integral formation” of their students.  The enthusiastic educator strives to propose this formation, for he knows that to...

  Let My Footstep Strike the Ground Like a Spear A Villanelle Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear Hear me bound through the groves of Sicily Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear. With father, I run from thicket to clear Mt Etna rising to the...

  The Pilgrimage to Heaven Beneath the shadows whence no light embarks On paths renounced by most intrepid men; There, gypsies seldom find enchanting larks Or songs which overflow the silent glen. Circuitous routes aplenty lead to plains Where neither sweet repose nor respite wait; Some haunted bowers bear the...

Of course, I like to see rainbows, But my heart hasn’t leapt for one; I’ve not wandered like a cloud blows, Though I’ve been lonely in the sun. Oh, I like Nature, that’s for sure— I just can’t feel Wordsworth’s amour. I’m sometimes in a pensive mood (And, yes, my...

Meritocracy When the Left tries to cow us and trammel our prowess ____We resort to a stiff upper lip, Well aware that their winning will spell the beginning ____Of our comeback the moment they slip. If the Government makes us repeat old mistakes, ____Then our indolent selves are to blame,...

The Mausoleum, Dumfries His crypt sealed by stones made by mother earth, A soft voice: This is where Robert Burns lies, Yon granite gaol is unmoved, unchanged, Tourists trek on through the graveyard, a dearth Of sound until they leave his hallowed cries Behind, written in black and well arranged;...

  ~ Dedicated to Falun Gong practitioners facing persecution in China Brutality meets decency and then What happens?  Hardness softens, or it cracks A little.  Craquelure might happen when The decency is struck.  Unless an axe Completely shatters bright compassion, right Can still survive, strong, beautiful, and calm. If brutal...

On Formal Slavery (to a Nation of Free Verse) For there are those that call us slaves.  How poor and simple we must be to cling to ties that stretch us, bend our purpled backs before some ruthless lash and ask for more.  A slight psychotic tendency, a dream of...

  What is my body that was never mine, That, fevered, it should waste below the deck? I rise, instead, to face the ocean’s brine, The Muslim’s wrath, the ending of my trek. What is the ball that penetrates my chest, If not the lead that tipped the Roman’s scourge...

  Basics Tonight I paint flowers on my tablet. I wanted to write about deeper things like God and love and time and death which brings me again to the compulsive habit of pursuing the truth. On this planet it is probably one of our failings to overlook truth in...

  "A man’s as old as he’s feeling …" ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge “If the body frees the mind in its quest For youthful dreams to be forever young Let not Time play such games like cricket test* To stay batting because the gloves are hung. If I should sit...

Joe Stalin led his country for just short of thirty years— Three decades filled with purges, hunger, suffering and tears. “To make an omelet,” he once said, “you have to break some eggs.” By “eggs” he meant some heads and necks along with arms and legs. Not counting war (or...

Decades later, his voice still heard: Sustainable, organic, and home-grown. We're reaping what he'd wisely sown: Ahimsa*, respect, main keywords. His foresights make us rethink world, A balanced outlook, clearly shown. For humble, simple life was well-known, Ethics, morality, old school words. Respect for Nature, he felt strong, Cared not for...

by Jane Blanchard Beatrice, Dante Alighieri’s second guide in La Divina Commedia (The Divine Comedy), makes her literary debut in an earlier work, La Vita Nuova (The New Life), a combination of prose and poetry that details his encounters with the girl, and then the woman, who became his muse....

The Teacher to His Students The ghost… the ghost of Hamlet’s father, came To walk the castle walls one moonless night. This father, once the king, had come to blame His brother, for his grave, incestuous slight: He’d murdered him and took the queen as wife, Then clutched the crown...

  Scientists of the world were meeting Stars among them they were feting Challenges new they were seeking Of wine and wisdom, they were reeking "We have caught the long tail of pi We did count the stars in the sky Oceans depths too we have found out Source of...

  Incarnation I: Ego Mater Pulchrae Dilectionis I blossom forth delights on fruitful vine; My grapes are opulent and fair, Productive of a deep, supernal wine Of highest knowledge, hope, and fear. Late summer’s honey, heavy in the comb, Shall never be as golden nor as sweet As I am...

  Re-visiting Dante “For Dante it was a strict rule not to rhyme the word ‘Christ’ with any other word except itself” – Clive James Inferno Down we went like no other care were there; No sense we’d be bedraggled, drowned, doomed, or lost; All that mattered was now, that...

Walk with me, though both of us May wonder where we go. Talk with me, explore, discuss The things we may not know. Sit with me, through anxious hours Of waiting and of pain. Stay with me, to share what’s ours In sunshine and in rain. Look at me and...

Requiem for September (or/ November Is Upon Us) Withering leaves Dying grasses Autumn is here Time Passes Gray skies Chilly days Brisk nights Life’s fabric frays Weary bodies Wracked with age Time to turn Another page Readying for winter Dreaming of spring Eternally hopeful What it will bring We are...

By Joseph Charles MacKenzie, for the Society of Classical Poets Born in 1939 Samuel Gilliland attended the ancient Dreghorn School in an old mining village on the right bank of the river Irvine, said village having passed from the De Morville’s, Lord High Constables of Scotland, to Roland, Lord of...

  Cagney's Last Curtain Call Words shape my lips, words that I shall borrow, Pre-dawn, the sun, yet to fully arise, Caresses land edged by a bustling sea; Joy’s tears form, for I may weep tomorrow, I watch lighthouse lights blink and realise They are beacons guiding boats to the...

Translation (1) By a hedge, the day before, I met a half-breed shepherdess Full of cheer and sense no less— A peasant woman’s child. She wore A cloak of fur. One could adore Her simple skirt and canvas clothes, Wooden clogs and woolen hose. (2) I crossed the field to...

Youths for Prophets, Without Sin As youths for prophets steer a course, Towards our futures of remorse, We forge a dauntless faith believed, Inspired by deeds not yet bereaved, And age which slows, and grows to show, Wisdom's what we really sow. _________________________ Sweet forsaken pagan dreams, Of adolescent thoughts...

AMERICAN INCIPITS Ishmael “You shall call his name Ishmael, because the LORD has listened to your affliction. He shall be a wild donkey of a man, his hand against everyone and everyone’s hand against him,” Genesis 16 11-12 I fathom that there’re names that could be worse… Some years ago—it...

  'Twas so much more on that morn before fall that we all came to mourn as it fell As the shadows that touched had borne, by its clutch, a scorn we remembered so well From the sky rained a fiery metal as flowers and petals were mired with soot...

  We folks in Florida are quick to extol her amenity: The beach, the surf, the lifestyle announce unique identity. But, sometimes Mother Nature interrupts our serenity: The pointed target of Irma's wrath transforms to obscenity.   Post your Hurricane Irma poetry in the comments section below.   Lucy Giardiano...

The New Explorers See this figure? That’s the Spirit Sent up way back when to scout. She rolls around And samples rocks To see if any life’s about. We sent her up here Ages back To serve in the great Search for Life. And she does so, Never ceasing, Tho’...

The best way to understand America is through the lens of football esoterica. If you have no clue where you belong, why not join the friendly football throng? Get to know the winners and the losers, then idolize the biggest, meanest bruisers. If you know the players, teams and stats,...

Hero for Hire About myself I feel so good I grabbed my club, I donned my hood I found a hater to beat Then on the other side of town I knocked another statue down it crumbled at my feet I am a hero in the eyes of those who...

Cicada and Mantis You are known to us by your choral song, The clicks and buzzes of an insect throng. Hidden in darkness, a collective hum Consumes attention like a temple gong. You are not known to capture an eardrum. Rather, you’re thought to be praying by some; Bent fore-legs...