Poetry

. Frivolity from Quality Her works of elegance and style create frivolity, When book producers cluelessly reject such quality. But witless word her work is “not the right fit” holds no slight, Their dreadful publications prove ironically they’re right. . . Memories The million lovely things I’ve said--- Most memories...

. The Institute of Peace: Constitution Avenue, N.E. The Institute of Peace looks down on LincolnFrom high atop her perch on Constitution.She has the hollow belly of a beast.She yearns to eat the people piece by piece.She spreads a sharp aluminum of wingsOver a nation that should fear the thing.The...

. A Walk in Solitude I strolled a path in solitude As snow and frosty winds renewed. The night was giving way to light When I beheld a startling sight: There was a figure up ahead Whose twisted shape invited dread. Its form was cloaked in falling snow, Which by...

. Song of the Heron by Ueda Bin (after the French of Emile Verhaeren) translated from Japanese by Yoshikaze Kawakami By the bleak golden waters, Where the water lilies bloom, The heron slowly hovers, And sends its shade of gloom. The shadows on the pond Are spread like robes and...

. A Taste of Northern New England I’ll never feel at home in Robert Frost’s Vermont—too many deconstructed walls, And far too many melancholy falls That adumbrate a host of tragic costs Come winter. Nonetheless, I’d rather be Up there than ever have to live in some New Hampshire version...

. Forsythia Fading ---after Robert Frost and A.E. Housman Green leaves push yellow blooms away. Bold colors leave, their lives an hour Compared with green things’ lengthened day. It’s true that nothing gold can stay. Late April, maybe early May, Pink blossoms drop, no more to flower, Upon the lawn....

. On a Raging Storm Storms raged in the eastern U.S. in Spring of 2019. Is it a freak of summer or the norm? A gale, a blast, a squall is roaring past. In wrath that cuts and claws, the raging storm Leaves in its wake select debris amassed To...

. Ten Pennies Per Paper Poppy ---a childhood memory of Memorial Day Ten pennies per paper poppy I helped my mother sell We sold some fifty poppies ---She thought we did quite well. Pretty paper poppies For soldiers who passed away. They had a smell of honor On our Memorial...

. A Waltz of Longing In the heat of the day, we begin With a glance and a breath, cheek to chin. Though our steps misalign, still we glide With a tremble of flame in our stride. It’s a perilous waltz that we turn, And in red and in gold,...

. The Genesis Wind ---written in the wake of Hurricane Milton I close my eyes to better gauge the gusting wind. It howls and tantrums hard against the metal shutters And bends the flailing palms and scrub oaks. Then I find It deadens into ghastly silence. My heart flutters Within...

. Kissing Cousin I see her every two years, usuallyWhen someone dies or marries. And we kissAs if we were old lovers, passionately,Just as a silly spoof. She says I missThese hot encounters! Prudish maiden auntsAre duly scandalized, and start to talk.I say Now ladies, I’ve kept on my pants—When...

. Wedding Night by Christine de Pisan (1364--c. 1430)translated by Margaret Coats A sweet supremacy marks marriage;I prove it from experience.I have a husband good and sage,Bestowed through God’s great providence;Praised be His saving diligence!This holy state serves to excelAll treasures of benevolence,For sure, my sweet one loves me well....

. What the Caterpillar Calls the End ---for those who are becoming The light grew dim, the air grew still, The green world closed, the leaf went chill. “I am undone,” the small voice cried, Wrapped in a thread the dusk supplied. No sky, no sun, no place to flee;...

. The Dyer’s Second Tale---A Medieval Heist Here beginneth the Dyer’s Second Tale . Part I The Third Crusade had reached its bloody height,And all throughout the Holy Land the mightOf European soldiery held sway.I helped to keep the Saracens at bayWith Richard’s troops, apprenticed as a squireTo Shaun de...

. Sonnet XIII On days you do not need my sound embrace, When tenderness and warmth envelop you And Fortune shines upon your amber face And suffering and sorrow are but few, I wonder what your mind then does with me? From the shore the grey tide pulls away; Of...

. Sound and Fury . I. Of Farcical Requital He craved the slavish praise his patter wooed. His slick, linguistic syrup charmed the ear Of she who shunned the candor of the crude--- A fellow fox who held his fawning dear. Her honey-butter coos appeased his need For piffle-fizzing frissons...

. The Noble Train of Artillery ---from Legends of Liberty Volume 3 The cold, gray dawn illuminated flakes Of snow dusting an elevated hill Where a falling star had crashed, between two lakes: Fort Carillon, still sharp enough to kill With its five points, coated in frost and twinkling. Nearby,...

. Know Your Place __“Know your place!” In grammar school, that stung like mace.“To the corner!”—my timeout place. __“Know your place.” On my first date, with pimpled face,I never even reached first base. __“Know your place.” Now I craft poems, surely first rate!An editor wrote, “Do erase:Your poems plod like...

. Apollo, Mnemosyne, and Poetry Chapter 9 from Gods, Heroes and Us (Bruges Group, May, 2025) by James Sale Our last chapter discussed the imperative for distinguishing between Truth (Veritas) and Falsehood (Mendacium), and how in our modern, digital era this is becoming increasingly difficult. Also, we talked about a shift...

. Spring Has Sprung Spring has sprung. It has begun--- _Birds nesting in the tree. It’s warm again. The cackling hen _Can go outside to pee. Spring has sprung. It’s time for fun. _New flowers bloom each day. The cow awaits by the barn gates _Where I can make her...

. The Poppy I walk a poppy universe, I rattle the hourglass’s isles, Where time slows down and turns to hope And I’m a brush that paints for miles. I balance on a single finger; At first all’s white and undefiled. From star to star I jump alone Only to...

. Young Catherine’s Vision ---on St. Catherine of Siena Invested with the Dominican Habit by Giovanni di Paola A maiden kneels on gray da Torre stone. Save for a crucifix, the room is bare. Her thighs seem formed of otherworldly bone; her anorexic body drifts on air. As if in...

. Sally  November rains brought to our basement door From the woods some pleading, needy eyes Staring from a fur mass, soaking wet. Our catless home (about to be no more) Welcomed her and tended to her cries. By Providence we had ourselves a pet. I don’t recall why Sally...

. Today Like Yesterday by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870) translated by Paul Burgess Today like yesterday, tomorrow like today: ___A sky of only grays, An endless horizon that goes on, changeless, dull, ___The same across the days; The heart's repeated mindless pounding, like machines' ___Insistent pulsing beep; A brain lethargic...

. Bonanza The March of rains has staked its claim, its boast _To brag upon these thousand hills, and opened the sluice of the motherlode to mantle the slopes in yellow and gold. _From Tehachapi to the poppied coast, __meadowlark-loud with whistles and trills, _Spring’s linen is laid along every...

. Jargon The devil will manipulate, through jargoneers who fabricate non sequitur profundity tuned with the proper frequency that will, before you realize, infect your mind and hypnotize with phrases such as “Love is love,” which is the best example of how bumper-sticker jargoneers can craft a phrase that interferes...

. Going Home to Campania I come back to my cool and quiet road, Testudo-shielded by umbrella pines, Where pavement cracked and garbage overflowed To fade beyond in bright converging lines. I come back as a stranger, long since grown, Back to a land I knew when I was small,...

. Size Lies Clothing manufacturers are fond of tricks today, Making female customers feel good in one slick way--- Whatever size they’ve always been---they’re now two sizes smaller! So next they might try making men think they’re three inches taller. . . Bedrock Sometimes late at night when she’s sleeping,...

. The Water Closet An earthen pit, an outhouse stool, a chamber pot— We’ve long dispensed with these, the whole damn stinking lot! The housewife and the maid no longer shout, “Gar’ l’eau!” Before the toss of waste on city streets below. A lady needn’t lift her skirt, nor man...

. Eternity If I could give her just one gift, What would she want that gift to be? Would she prefer a diamond ring Or roses spread across the sea? Would she prefer a priceless gem, A string of pearls, or maybe two? Would she suggest a trip to France...

. The Spring Has Come The mating call of the black-capped chickadee (a North American songbird) sounds like "Hey, Sweetie!" "Hey, Sweetie!"—this is what you say.Small chickadee, it is your wayto signal interest in your mate.You sing and chase—and often wait—until she deigns to make your day. A furtive "cheep,"...

. If You Ever Break Down If you ever break down somewhere far from your friends _And you stick out your thumb for a ride. Don’t expect that a Beemer or Mercedes-Benz _Will slow down or pull up alongside. What you hope you will see is an open-bed truck _With...

. FIRST PLACE . Captured Souls by Twila Brase Seized by force, a mighty throng The captured souls of the Falun Gong. Intact for now, breathing still Only time is left to kill. Buyers vie for body parts Kidneys, livers, eyes, and hearts. From chopping block to bloody crate Execution...

. Pressed for Time Though life is good, it doesn’t last that long, And so we’re always left desiring more. Remember, though, you bought it for a song— Did you expect a grand eternal tour? We find we’re subject to a grave condition That challenges our hearts and tests our...

. Ogre Food My parents, dear, although you love me so; and in your love, wish only for my best. Yet, to the first-grade class I will not go, nor shall I end my tears of loud protest. For fearful premonitions haunt my thoughts. My heart is filled with terror...

. May 12 is National Limerick Day in the United States, corresponding to Limerick-writer Edward Lear's birthday. Poet James A. Tweedie invites you to share your limerick or limericks in the comments section below. Here are a few from his book Laughing Matters to get you started. See "How to Write...

. Written in a Cubicle What spurs me, in this breathing grave of coffee mouths and cheeks unshaved, to stand upon my chair and shout, __"I'm out! I'm out of this forever-widening coop where glumness, going on a loop, entraps, within its strangling mesh, __the mind and flesh?" I should...

. Back in the U.S.S.R. ---St. Petersburg, Russia. The present. Your borscht, Dmitri. Come and eat, smart boy. You asked me how life was? Well take a seat And hear what your babushka has to tell Of times before the Politburo fell, When nothing---truly nothing---was the same. St. Petersburg then...

. Genevieve Perhaps those languid eyes are looking up At angels hymning in the dove-grey sky, So soft and saccharine (and fluent in Provincial French) to give her haloed head A tilt insouciante and pull her lips Into a supermodel pout. It’s prayer Perhaps that’s brought the crimson to her...

. Supernova With no notice, the rockets destroyed festive peace,And a volley of bullets brought death and dismay.Ben ran straight to his car, telling strangers, “Get in!I can take you to town, a safe distance away.” As they raced over roads, on the lookout for foes,He called home with a...