Poetry

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) U.S. Midterm Election 2018 by Brice U. Lawseed There wasn't any blue wave, nor a red wall; but instead the House was painted blue, the Senate turned a brighter red. America continued its divided government, since Washington was first proclaimed the US President. Our...

  Behold the cloud-graced monoliths That stretch against the sky Into the boundless sanctity Where wind swift eagles fly. Primal valleys bloom to life As tumbling waters sing, Resurrected from the heights Where ancient glaciers cling. Time is without measure In a world no one can claim; Blessèd be the...

  "Write on!" the Masters from the shadows cried. "By your thin air we breathe, nor ever died; Your modest dress, our glorious raiment shares And witness to our sun, your candle bears. "Ignored, reviled, by fashion shut away, We are not stilled, nor sleep as common clay; We are...

When formal poets come to me for advice, I do my best to be helpful. I can comment on metrics and diction and syntactical choice. I try to avoid discussing subject matter since that is in the realm of personal invention and inspiration. Nevertheless, if a poet earnestly asks about...

  The Age of Poetry They say that poetry’s a young man’s game, indulged while still limber, lithe, and healthy enough to dance all night with energy. Without concern for funding and fickle fame, artists, in their youth, burning with passion’s flame, can better ignore the bruises of poverty, the...

by James Sale Carol Smallwood In the Measuring is a substantial new collection of 77 poems by Carol Smallwood. Carol is well-known to readers of The Society of Classical Poets, as her poems regularly appear on its site; and furthermore, she is a well-respected and widely published poet throughout the...

  In Officio Exsequarium Come, let us bid the last of our farewells To one who sleeps on the retiring ship; November’s breath respires the mournful knells; “Lord, give him rest” is murmured lip to lip. What is our life, if not a morning dew, A flash of light upon...

Autumn Wind by Yuan Xi, translated by Jennifer Zeng and Damian Robin From far off, Autumn wind runs at us in a rush! Across a thousand miles, displacing clouds with sky, (And crowding through the dark, tense soldiers in a hush), Then past the cliff, through countless pines, like echoes...

Hallowe’en by Sheri-Ann O'Shea Oh! Hallowe’en is not about the grave __Or ghosts or horrors fit to make men rave It’s not about black witches and black cats __Or goats or toads or spider webs or bats There’s nought in it of skeletons in chains __Or blood or leering heads...

John of the Mountains To him we owe a mammoth debt, our grateful thanks and praise, For the lasting conservation trails with foresight he did blaze. A “voice calling in the wilderness,” like John the Baptist, he Preached love of God’s Creation – mountain, waterfall, and tree. When first he...

This universe of ours will end As we then return to the source. No more wounds to tend or to mend, As the source will chart a new course. When all the sands of time run out And existence must start anew, Our souls will be out and about, To...

The Ballerina Just before the break of day she woke from dreams of grand jeté and knelt beside her bed to pray. Like a feather, then she rose and slipped into her warm-up clothes to dance in silence on her toes. Evening and the house lights fell. Curtain up! she...

There are kingdoms to rule if your foot’s the right size _____or your beauty is flawless and rare. With a tune and a tower, you’ll capture brave hearts -- _____if you don’t mind his boots in your hair. Kiss the beast or the frog and you’ll set a prince free....

Blasted granite marks the trail Guttered through eternal rock. Windborne smoke and ashes veil Mountain peaks through which we walk. Upward blue sky’s endlessness; Downward glimpse of lakes below. High Sierra wilderness— Gleaming stone bedecked with snow. Onward towards our destination, Passing juniper and pine, To the place called Desolation,...

As yet untouched by any writer’s thought you’re still pristine and perfectly unspoiled. Just like a botox-frozen face that ought to pull and stretch, from life you have recoiled. Expressionless, your stare does challenge me to get the better of my writer’s block. Hypnotic blankness prohibited shall be; my creativity...

by Evan Mantyk Where is Homer? The epic poems of the famous Greek bard were the cornerstone of education for young Socrates, Alexander the Great, Roman emperors, William Shakespeare, and every serious scholar in the Western world until the last 50 years. Yet, today they have nearly disappeared from school...

(poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) The Viacruces del Migrante, migrant caravan, which started out two hundred strong has grown to thousands, and keeps on increasing as it travels north through Mexico, on foot, on trucks, these many moving thousands on the go. What does Honduras have for them, or Guatemala...

Birthday Greetings As themes show signs of nature's stay, And time’s propitious dates hold sway, The evidence augurs your bloom, From sculptured years that now have hewn A shapened belle upon a theme, Appears today, your beauty’s seam, Enjoined! auspicious perfect pair, The past, has futured you so fair.  ...

Sonnet 201. The Force that Through the Green Fuse Pulls the Poem. Written in the Dylan Thomas Museum, Swansea. July 2017 Oh to be the Poet! Love the words And see them wound around the teeth and tongue, To shake the shingle from the seas-absurd, To dance upon the dragons’...

  Why is it when you’re down and out, you’re also out of luck? Success they say is easy, “you’ll find it in a book.” I waded through a finance book, and on the middle page; Invest like me and you’ll get rich, no matter what your age. I searched...

Solid Ground Our greatest philosopher David Hume, Whose logical doubts leave naught to assume, Used skeptical arguments he had found To leave nothing on solid ground Until a Kant came walking along And pointed out where David went wrong With help from a little a priori The world was just...

by Joseph Charles MacKenzie Read the Selected Poems from Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du Mal online. Email [email protected] for details on purchasing the book. Two arts are beautifully displayed in Helen Palma’s Selected Poems from Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal (Pivot Press, New York, 2014). The first and most obvious is...

  I woke this day beside the two-way Wye, at peace with wars too often waged inside between the push of how, the pull of why. The river, calm against the ebbing tide, displayed an ease I had not seen before, and I was easy too (or close, at least, for one with...

United They Fall Exhausted armies cling to noble trees along the margin of a meadow mown two weeks ago.  It's fifty-five degrees, and summer's long campaign is at an end, the bugles stilled, except when taps is blown -- for here and there a feckless golden horde, a red brigade...

Ah, now comes the mellow season, Marks its time with jackdaws caws. Autumn with its rusty reason Offers forth its season’s laws. Now no more the pretty laces, Florals found along the way. Brackish forms in darker traces, Longer shadows, shorter day. Autumn wears its gown of orange Trampling out...

by Manfred Dietrich The world is riddled with riddles. Riddling is as old and as ubiquitous as language itself. When God invited Adam to name the beasts and the beauties of creation, he showed that each naming was an answer to the universal riddle, “What am I called?” Much later,...

  For Elizabeth La Cienega slept on a muted afternoon At old Las Golodrinas, when I spied a nest Of swallows beneath the age-worn latias, hewn By a hand that is gone with the days that were blessed; And I promised to knit for you a pair of gloves From...

  So delicate at first, the music swells And fills with brilliance of a dawning sun Each listener and cracks the callused shells The world has formed around our heart. And none Remain unmoved as the orchestra weaves its spells Of purest harmony, for everyone Transcends into the realm where...

  An acrobat named Larry Loops was best among all circus troupes, But he quit one day and was heard to say, “My boss made me jump all those hoops!”   There once was a man from Keele who slipped on an orange peel. He fractured his foot and was...

In his bedsitter years, he was alone And all his dreams were haunted by some girl More wonderful than any precious stone Who’d bring fulfilment to his empty world. The loneliness pressed on him, dense as coal. Thinking of her was all that kept him strong. She was the magic...

Dark Devil’s Pool, where Spirit of the Tweed __Conceived the first-born of the Tuede clan; __Each maiden fair, and muckle braw each man, __With “Thol and Think” their battle-cry and creed. They built a keep, a refuge most secure, __Where sheep and children could be taken in __When English raiders...

“Religion is an opiate of the masses,” So says the Prof. lecturing to his classes. “College used to be a carrier pigeon For this terrible thing called ‘religion.’ Where all were forced to swallow orthodoxy, And stick to dogma like epoxy. Now all have freedom to have points of view,”...

by Charles Eager William Wordsworth was born in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in 1770—the same year as gave us Beethoven, Hegel, and Hölderlin—and died at the age of eighty, rich in the knowledge of his huge accomplishments, in Rydal Mount, Westmorland, in 1850. In those eighty years, Wordsworth brought a unique poetry...

Death Is the Cooling Night by Heinrich Heine Death is the cooling night, Life is the sultry day, But now darkness settles And I long for respite. Outside my window looms a tree; In it sings the young Nightingale. She sings only of Love— Even in dreams, it reaches me....

For John McCain, Ernest C. Brace, & Alexander Solzhenitsyn I season my pen with the sonnet's blood, And do not reason with a moonless sky, Thus, in durance, we hearken to the wry Whisper of words from the drifting brood Of dreams courting a wistful brotherhood; Ah, now I need...

I . The Accused: “Your Honor… And if I were a troubled lad and if indeed I did go bad, it matters not what I've done since? No point in trying to convince when crushed between the iron jaws of merciless inhuman laws. Can I forgive those who would shame...

a Petrarchan sonnet Life’s hills have been trampled since first we met, That mad, magic moment long years ago, When your smile lit fires in the candle’s glow And trapped me forever in Venus’ net. Though with time we’ve mellowed, grown peaceful, yet Your power’s still as potent. Wherever I...

—from A Gallery of Ethopaths* For those of us who cherish text, There’s anguish in what I’ll say next. The world of letters, by tradition, Was one of grace, style, erudition— A shrine to language at its best, A temple of the precious blest Who had achieved the very heights...

  Pure of any mortal mote ___and boundless (but for sight): The deep dry sky of Autumn ___inscribes the shadows bright. (For what could dusty leaves conceal ___from such an endless eye? What crackled branch could hide the earth ___from all-consuming sky?) Replete with light, devoid of warmth: ___a strong...

  The butterfly, the sea anemone, And snowflake, though possessive of the true Design of grace and perfect symmetry, Seem crude and ugly when compared to you. The stars that line the deep, black sky like grains Of salt, the sun that ripens like a peach, The Northern Lights that...