Poetry

Morning in England Morning in England: web and dew. The county matters not in name, nor distant city hid from view, for this is Albion in her fame; Who—whether solitary lane, or verge astride the emerald rows, transplants herself from northern rain to southern downs—the whole land knows. Such land...

  Rain, lapping at the windows fast, falls cold and ceaseless, painting lines of marble on the silvered glass while clouds cast dark and thunder whines; but these walls will not let it pass and through a cloud-gap sunlight shines. I watch it from the darkened room, for I am...

I think that I shall never see A tree that is invisible. The very thought is risible— Or maybe it's advisable To say the word as 'rīsible.' My crucial point is clear to see —I mean it can be seen, not clear— What's clear cannot be seen. I fear I...

  My Adventskalender in Germany made Of paper and glitter has Heaven displayed Through twenty-four windows. Come open with me Each miniature vision of things heavenly. Behind the first window are rabbits who dance. The second, a glittering snowflake enchants, And third, there’s a cat lying down with a mouse...

by T.M. Moore The hectic pace that defines the lives of most of us may be doing more than merely serving as a source of stress and irritation. It may be robbing us of encounters with beauty, wonder, and glory that can thrill and transform us, enrich our lives, and...

  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...

  There lies a way to heaven by that lake. My sickness gone, I fear no chilly mist; A redwing calls me, dawn is now awake, The fragrant autumn air I can’t resist. There is my home far from this cottage small, Where honeysuckles with gold aspens mate, And purple...

  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...

by James Sale Sonnets, 2nd edition. Shanti Arts, 2020 Jesus and Eros, Bardsinger Books, 2014 Theresa Rodriguez is a relatively new and exciting poet on the pages of The Society of Classical Poets. As a classically trained singer and teacher, she has a particularly fine voice and a tremendous presence...

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,...

  As I was strolling in a glade of green And paid but little thought to anything, I hardly knew what vistas filled the scene Of birds intensely hast’ning on the wing. What forceful aim possessed them, but not me, In migratory flight with purpose clear, Whereas my thoughts were...

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,...

  The gold-etched clouds of evensong intone A whisper of rhapsodic melody; Kaleidoscopic shards of psalmody Aflame with facet-fire of precious stone. The heavens declare God’s glory from on high, With anthems set ablaze by seraphim. The music of the spheres resounds the theme As day and night conspire to...

  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...

originally published on MacKenzie Lyric Poetry Oh, run with the sun and the wind in your hair! Before the day-star sets in the west: Love flowers best in the wide, open air. Behold! The noon-tide waxes not more fair Than you, my one, as these my lines attest. Oh, run...

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...

  Mysterium Tremendum is a central idea in Rudolf Otto's "The Idea of the Holy" I muse upon the sea’s expanse And soar into a troubled trance. A distant storm front drowns the sun— Light fades into oblivion. I ponder well mortality, Though far from storm’s ferocity, As dusk settles...

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!...

  Leo Yankevich passed away in December 2018. This poem was submitted by Sally Cook. Crows and leaves beyond the windowpane, a cup of steaming coffee on the stool, my lines reflected in your eyes, which strain in light as mine once did, the feel of wool that keeps our...

  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...