Poetry

Read the poetry of the recently departed John Whitworth at Trinacria or The Poetry Archive. by Sally Cook Any ordinary poet composing a landscape piece might easily imagine a dull blue sky, one small white cloud, and a narrow strip of grass from which a single stump protrudes. That sort...

An Ode to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern 50 Years Later A Poetic Summary of Tom Stoppard’s Award-Winning Play As Seen Through the Eyes of Its Two Leading Characters Says Rosencrantz to Guildenstern, “I fear dear Hamlet’s lost his mind.” Says Guildenstern to Rosencrantz, “He says he’s locked up, chained, confined Within...

Venting Be angry, and do not sin. —Ephesians 4.26 We're told a large volcano roils and seethes beneath the soil of Yellowstone. The steam that rises all throughout the park, and wreathes its many pools and vales, would surely seem to validate that claim. Word is, that should that angry...

On Time’s Memory Time is a sieve of our own brand. A net Made not to catch but to let go: of gold, Of fish, of bread, or dust; a knotted mould Formed from ourselves, to let us so forget. Or else time is blanched, blotted, mangled, sold To the...

The Fall of the Fourth Estate a rondeau The Media: the Fourth Estate* Performed disgracefully of late: Delivering the news askew, Allowing certain viewpoints through To fuel the discontent and hate. Campaigning bullies will berate The citizens and educate Their friends to start deferring to The Media. All politicians propagate...

Translation by Matthew Wildermuth Note: In the time of its composition—the first decade of the 13th century—Tristan was already a timeless story of heroism and romance, yet in the hands of a great master—Gottfried von Strassburg—the tale of Tristan and Isolde was transformed into the greatest romance of the German...

  Birthday Apology William Shakespeare was born April 26, 1564 If all the world’s a stage, and all the men are women, myne eye be true, I gauge; her beard doth need a trimmin’!     The Last Poet Advanced in years and bent in bone, I shed no tears;...

Towards the End of Chinese Communism Through Shanghai’s packed glissando peaks and Beijing’s glossy miles, As though to keep out counter breaths and polish glassy smiles, The dazing days of blinding fogs form fumes like whiskey casks, And crowds wear masks like masks still worn for organ harvest tasks. Stretched fencing...

Here shut behind an oaken door I stay, left in a room paneled with times long gone, and learn to know the passing of the day, for day and I await the selfsame dawn. My window faces west, my door is closed against the east, and since I've seen no...

Gallipoli, 1915 There are none left on earth can ever tell At first hand of this mortal waste of war Hard-fought one hundred years ago and more, The stench of death, of corpses left to swell, Their startled eyes wide open where they fell. No mockery of sleep their faces...

  I face the day with unexpected strength, to know we’ll meet when the sun has disappeared. Your hand in mine we’ll walk the forest’s length, with peace of mind and nothing to be feared. I know the day may bring me to my knee, And I know that they...

  O, curse Zahran Hashim and, yes, Abu Mohammad too, for evil at the Shangri-la and Batticalao, just two, of all those vicious men, who hit Sri Lanka's calm. O, Lord, the people cry aloud; they long for love and balm. Jihadist, suicidal, evil tools o' th' hateful Beast came...

  Tosspot tulip, withered, bowed and bent; __Severed stem embedded in a vase. __Natal bed a now-forsaken place. __Glory passed; its bloom and beauty spent. Birthed, bedecked, betrothed, by bulb and bee; __Leaf, to bud, to flower in rainbowed rows. __Fertile field from which each blossom rose __Now an empty,...

  It is a moment or a spot in time, When time is quieted and put away; A simple thing becoming the sublime, Suspended and eternal in a day And all around me just dissolves to naught; I feel my world around me disappears; It is just me before you—I...

A special holiday post featuring "My Cross" by Joe Tessitore of New York, New York; "Pietá" by Tonya McQuade of Los Gatos, California; "The Pietá" by Michael Charles Maibach of Alexandria, Virginia.

They fell into a numbing sleep Perchance to darkly dream. The kettle for their tea was boiling; The plants were rich and green. They stoned themselves on television And marriage habits bad; Their sadness at declining Glory Muffled 'neath the fads. Quizzical they were, then, when Their children turned around...

  Luckily for the bereft grieving through darkness alone, dawn is abundantly deft at its medicinal tone. When a new morning appears, duty abruptly commands focusing thoughts on careers and some routinized demands. During distressing ordeals, structural chores are, of course spokes on restorative wheels, turning with rhythmical force ....

The Cathedral, Burning by T. M. Moore Flames wreck the walls and ceilings that had stood for centuries, scorch ancient timbers, raze to ash that sanctuary made for praise, and cruelly crumble sacred stone and wood that neither wars nor revolutions could bring down. And there - where holy hands...

  The Life That Is Not Life “I’m getting ready for my trip now.” —Aurelia Brouwers (who chose to be euthanized at age 29 in the Netherlands) You said it was the humane thing to do __For those condemned to “endless pain and strife,” Yet did you ever pause to...

The Society of Classical Poets is holding its first Poetry and Culture Symposium at the Princeton Club in Manhattan, on Monday, June 17, 4 to 8 p.m. Register here. The Symposium will feature prominent poets speaking on the revival of classical poetry and arts, a chance to meet and network...

  Today poetic form is ostracised. It’s stifled and suppressed, deemed obsolete; classed as archaic, stuffy and effete, a vestige of the past to be chastised. Make no mistake, the ‘advice’ is quite prescriptive: “be modern” and, above all, “just be free” —though that idea of freedom seems to me...

’Twas just a fleeting moment when our journeys crossed, When you were walking roadside, munching on the moss, On Christmas, we were driving, dinner on our mind, To share with friends and fam’ly at that special time. For just that fleeting moment when our eyes were locked, It seemed that...

Where the Heart Goes Where the heart decides to go, The feet must go along. The heart is first to know A thing is right or wrong. The heart knows who to trust. The heart knows who to fight. The feet go where they must Into the mists of night....

  The Canada Geese used to migrate each year. They’d summer up there and spend winter down here. Their nests were in Canada, home of their birth. From there they would fly to the ends of the earth. Each Spring they would longingly turn their eyes home And fly back...

District E for former Greenpeace Activist Patrick Moore by Eric Awesud Ble It always was at night when people simply disappeared. Names were removed from registers; such memories were seared. The record of what one had done was wiped out and denied. One-time existence was forgotten, thoroughly applied. One was...

Wings Oh, to catch the winds of flight And soar where eagles go, To leave the woes of troubled souls Behind me far below. I'd listen to the song of birds And sail in endless flight, Then chase the sun through cloudy paths And play with stars at night. The...

  The Graeco-Roman historian Lucius Dio Cassius, in his Roman History, describes “dark dinners” that were given by the emperor Domitian to specially chosen guests.   Domitian’s dinners served to terrify; Their purpose was to harrow and appall— Guests would imagine that this ghastly meal Was meant to be their...

When we listen To his sweet song, Did he then know It'd live this long? A song that gives To every age, A timeless sense Of history's page. Reminding you, Reminding me, Love songs can last Eternity. From age-to-age Repeating ways Of loving one Across our days. We know it's...

The Melancholy Snowman Though stony-eyed, I watched the finches glide. The chimney smoke, the builder slide, At night, I gave the constellations words, The House, the Builder, and the Birds. My silver ear was filled with tree-ish taps, And twiggy fingers twitched with sap, I wondered if the rain would...

  The Water of Life To die Of thirst Is nigh The worst And saddest way A life may end, Since quickened clay Cannot transcend Its fundamental need For fluid that's designed To irrigate and feed The body and the mind. We've been assured our souls are safe And everything...

April 18, 2019 is Poem in Your Pocket Day, part of National Poetry Month. On this day, people are encouraged to carry a poem in their pockets and share it with others. This day is primarily used by teachers and their students. The Society of Classical Poets has a number...

  It seemed a wolf had terrorized the town. Well, isn’t that what wolves are wont to do? The people said, “Say, put that wild thing down.” “Or else, instead, give it a talking to.” A man named Francis had a special way of speaking with the creatures of the...

translation from Italian by Luigi Pagano Maybe because you are the image of eternal peace O evening, you are welcomed by me with open arms when the summer clouds and the gentlest breeze beguile me with fascination and plenty of charm or in winter, when the sky full of snow...

In the Garden In Paradise there is a place where ruby-colored roses grace the trellises of precious pearl - so splendidly their buds unfurl! She and her Child oft’ wander here among the flowers they hold dear and with their sacred presence bless each fragrant bloom with tenderness. Ever now...

Curve It’s just a simple curve, gouged by a string to make a tidy border in between the walkway and the yard. On one side, green grass glistens, wearing morning dew like bling. And on the other side, the walk’s the thing. A simple pleasure, not some glorious scene replete...

That I Might Learn to Love a villanelle That I might learn to love I sorely prayed with hopes that God might teach me by romance as yearning I the empty sky surveyed. Yet lovers marched in cumbersome parade so out of step and void of real advance that I...

The following are excerpted from James Sale's upcoming book Divine Comedies.   Exit from Hell I did well in life. But everything is real in Hell –Dante, Canto 29 The exit from Hell is always difficult –Colonel Percy Harrison Faucett Surely, the way is simple, I did well, So why...

  When May became P. M., she had a doggéd view - Her Parliament majority would fly us through: All Brexit documents on leaving the E. U., All Acts of Parliament, all formal how-d’ya-do, All business needs, all travel, borderline decree, Could all be pushed along by her majority. Alone...

  The Pregnant Woman The Pregnant Woman nests a baby seed Who's ever pressing on her very core While her body adapts to baby's needs She's feeling aches she's never known before. A linea alba marks a fibrous path, A vertical white line on her flesh Of God’s exacting hemispherical...

  —from A Gallery of Ethopaths The world is filled with brainless brats Who all insist on having tats. These morons with their inked-up bods Walk about like savage gods Displaying, to the public’s view, A poisoned skin of garish hue. Their ugliness defies belief— Your mind’s been shipwrecked on...