Poetry

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...

The Coworker A “need-to-know” it’s called in Personnel and I’m just high enough to need to know she’s going through that quiet hell of watching someone’s life she loves recede. A bit more hollowed every day, a bit more bleakly by his suffering obsessed, she does her work, she types,...

After RFK __I’m named for one about whom Lowell wrote That doom was woven in his veins. In June Of 1968, my father trained To blow-up bridges at an Army base In the Show Me State when news ambushed The fort with word that Bobby had been shot. __I’m named...

Painted, woody there it stands, this door behind which kingdom fans. Bright with order, calm with ease, a wooden plank with hidden seas. A plight to pick which path is best, the fallen stairs or the door’s behest. I write to you in ink to say, take the path which...

by James Sale Wind in the Cave, Finishing Line Press, 2017 Out of Nothing, Shanti Arts Publishing, 2018 Recently in a poetry review of another poet on these pages I commented that the poet had included 33 poems in his collection and speculated whether or not that had any significance;...

Translation by Evan Mantyk "The Ballad of Mulan" was written in the sixth century about a legendary warrior, Hua Mulan, who lived during China’s Northern and Southern dynasties period (420–589 AD).   Sigh after sigh she sadly sighs __While weaving near the door— No sound of spinning loom that flies...

. The Country Club To think about a country club Begun for whisky in a tub, Distilled from fields of golden corn In a town where I was born, For folks to gather, have a blast In golden days, in time long past. . Rushing There is no right way...

Woman: Why choose the red dress, dear? Reply: To me it's really white, To you it should be clear, Mood sets a color right!   Boy: Are you playing handball? Reply: No! In fact it's football. Since leaving our big eggs We're quadrupeds on two legs!   R.G. Kaimal is...

Check-Mate by a Pawn for my sons We parry, thrust: This game of wits, Where each pawn must Deflect your hits. My mounted knight Skips overhead, First back, then right; Your knight is dead. But you riposte, With bishop swift, My rook, engrossed, Forgets to shift. And then, I spot...

Sonnet for a Cosmetic Company Ah Youth! To whom each maiden plights her troth To coax and woo each winsome charm to stay ‘Tis difficult to match your coat to cloth So ill designed and irksome in its way. Synthetic paints can never reproduce The artistry of Nature’s first success...

I. I’ve awed at the Atlantic’s bluest depths, and peered at the Pacific’s deepest blues; the warm blue summer waters of Key West, and cold blue winter on the Charles, too. I’ve watched the moon rise up above the Thames, the stars upon a Minnesota lake; I’ve seen the morning...

Lay your hand in mine dear, ___Lay your hand in mine; If you will lay your hand in mine We shall like eager, fruitful vines ___Intertwine: Then I’ll be yours ___And you’ll be mine. Place your lips to mine dear, ___Place your lips to mine; If you will place your...

Ye boundless vaults of heaven without an end, __Thy silvery fields of azure stars unfold Above the earth, and verdurous spruces bend __Toward the western halls of mellow gold; There, through their branches, amber rays illume __The resting place of an old gothic tower ____That once stood firmly rooted ‘gainst...

I Taught a Lesson to My Toes I taught a lesson to my toes, They’d overstepped the mark, Escaping time and time again From nylon prisons dark. I warned them of the consequence Should they destroy more socks - I’d bare them to the public gaze, Like prisoners in stocks....

a rondeau Cape Disappointment, battered and distressed, Besieged, beset, by brute-force waves hard-pressed As broad and deep Columbia collides With Chinook-whipped Pacific Ocean tides— Leviathans unchained, their fury unsuppressed. Above the windswept surge of trough and crest A sentinel’s cyclopic eye turns west, Revealing what the fading daylight hides; Cape...

Left to Write It isn't difficult to find __the works the masters left behind, and others too have written verse, __some for the better, some for worse. So can there still be ground to break, __and are there chances yet to take; secrets that haven't been revealed, __emotions that remain concealed?...

. Written: March 27, 2022 A Wedding Sonnet To those true cultivators of Zhen Shen Ren,* There is no common form we cannot take: The vows of love said by the finest men Know of no finer sound than what we make. We know the greatest love flows as a...

My Wife Is Clad in Cloth From Head to Foot My wife is clad in cloth from head to foot. How deep her eyes, how vast and sane her eyes. As we leave, I drink her clear brown eyes Then she walks behind me by a foot. The buggy that...

  Things shifted for them suddenly From seeing their folks in the morn To mourning their folks in the sea.   Mike Ruskovich lives in Grangeville, Idaho. He taught high school English for thirty-six years. He and his wife have four children.

Three Loves in One We've gathered Love, but only insofar As we have reaped a crop from seeds we've sown. Those hours we cherished our beloved are The most rewarding times we've ever known, Which bears a certain similarity To what occurs through strangers we behold: Each freely-given act of...

a Petrarchan sonnet Highlighting midnight across darkened skies flies the Supermoon hidden in all of its glory; though sightless and somber, a maker of stories soon reaching its perigee, near us it flies. Celestial body whose mystery lies in a facial expression now laden with quarries to whom we confess...

A Life Well Lived a rondeau A life well-lived begins and ends surrounded by the love of friends. The air breathed in and out each lung are signals that songs should be sung, for life’s a blessing God intends A person who can make amends, his honor and his name...

. https://youtu.be/9h-79BVeByw . Open Heart Surgery The best day of your life; a child is born! Start out happy, but get ready to mourn. You'll try to keep them from all of life's danger, "Don't eat that and don't talk to a stranger." You read them the same ridiculous book,...

  Riddle XXXVII From small beginnings I grow great, just keep up the heat and wait, help me become the thing I am, give me all the heat you can. Let me transform the gathered dew and I’ll transform the world for you. Tend me well from hour to hour...

Nobody came today to ask me questions, nor has anyone asked me for anything this afternoon. I have not seen a single graveyard flower In all this merry procession of lights. Forgive me, Master; how little I have died! —César Vallejo (Agape) 1918. Yesterday I heard the Catalan tongue, Some...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Venezuelan Woes by Lud Wes Caribee As Socialist experiment Venezuela sinks into far greater depths, a plunging country on the brink, Maduro, striving for an orderly recovery, has pegged the bolivar to petro cryptocurrency. He has increased the minimum wage sixty-some percent; the problem...

This villanelle is a tribute to the Rust Belt, and all the communities devastated when corporations close their American plants in pursuit of cheaper labor abroad. Where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain bleeding shades of layered shame on blight-lined highways below, their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we...

  “Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire, And catch from breast to breast the noble fire!" —The Iliad, Homer, Book V, Pope translation First Prize: $1,000   Submission Fee: None   Submit: One to three poems. All together, the poems should total 108 lines or less. The poems should...

Musical Comedy or Doggerel for Dilettantes The Sonata Like a Classical sonata, our day opens with a theme, Whether thrown from bed by thunder or lulled softy from a dream. With our breakfast comes a second theme, which contrasts with the first, And includes both toast and cereal and juice...

Canto 3 is the third canto in the sequence of the English Cantos, the first two of which are available to read on the SCP website. James Sale is attempting in this poem to emulate Dante, and this begins, initially, by descending into a modern day hell. Whilst the poem...

  Please bring the wine cuz I'm flat broke, I couldn't even buy a can of Coke. But once you smell my heart's sweet rose, you'll only wish you were all nose.   Robert Klein Engler lives in Omaha, Nebraska. He is a writer and artist. His many publications are...

in tribute to James Sale and in memory of Joe M. Ruggier (1956-2018), who first published this poem in The Eclectic Muse (December 2017) Those Thracian hordes who grabbed your garment’s hem— Were they mere slaves to Bacchus’s command? I rather think your song incited them. Your love was one...

Paradox as Explanatory Paradigm in Norman MacCaig’s ‘Summer Farm’ by Phillip Whidden   Summer Farm Straws like tame lightnings lie about the grass And hang zigzag on hedges.  Green as glass The water in the horse-trough shines. Nine ducks go wobbling by in two straight lines. A hen stares at...

A Question of Faith The crowd cheered on their betters’ masquerade, Emotions seethed as memes were hatched and grew; Elijah watched as Ba’al’s prophets prayed. Reporters for the 70’s news were paid To write an ice age might be overdue; The crowd cheered on their betters’ masquerade. The press says...

  I like to write, and writing's free; Liberates mind of memory. I take a chance to be creative; For daily stress, a palliative. Not modern work, you understand; A failure when I tried my hand Composing verse of latest fashion; Trending styles that leave me ashen. I like to write,...