Poetry

  I fear no more the settling of the night Or mind its grey, evaporating shades; Mine ears are deaf to time’s lost serenades, Mine eyes content with thy soul’s loving light. Thy morning’s halo puts the stars to flight, And warms me in its luminous cascades; And though the...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjc_6R0ang8&feature=youtu.be   It was once thought that swallows wintered on the moon, or morphed into field mice beneath the autumn swoon of clouds, or slept beneath wavelets on the floor of shadowy ponds and lakes until the sudden lure of springtime roused them from the kingdom of the dead. Early...

. by David Bellemare Gosselin Today, seldom is Edgar Allan Poe's voice heard as it's drowned out by the popular notions of Poe as some sort of deranged man whose stories and poetry are simply the product of his own sick mind. The myth of Poe as some sort of...

  Like feathered tip of swooping sparrow Our kinship cuts like that of arrows A brother’s love has weakened me I’ll take the slice, so brother be Shivered dreams of days that past Rivers gleam to drown mine fast Our friendship sank and swept to sea I’ll learn to swim,...

In another lifetime I was William Blake When I saw his work That was my take He wrote about love And the human heart I thought I was him Right from the start He wrote about London Tiger burning bright His influence looms In whatever I write He wrote about...

The sparkle on the river, the lights from distant shore, the cold and bitter glitter, the beckoning of more, Is beautiful to look at, ‘tis a pleasing sight to see, like a woman dressed for dinner, in all her finery. But all that shines is not silver, all that glitters...

Those Days and These “‘. . . Macbeth does murther sleep.’” —William Shakespeare If only such a villain were __Alone in this regard, The course of human history __Would prove to be less hard. Mythology and scripture are __Replete with deadly deeds Conducted by those seeking to __Meet wants as...

  Between the trees, along the path I hear the woodpecker tap tap tap. Beneath the bridge, cyclists roll through Pedaling and laughing two by two. Friends holding hands, walkers with dogs, A spring in their step, the jogger jogs, On and on with strolling feet Hoping I'll find some...

Flower of Choice On native Australian flowers The wattle bears her gold in early spring As luminescent beads on woody strings, Spreading perfume ‘til the mild air brings Sweetness deep to every living thing. Diverting our attention from the gold, The waratah with fiery head unfolds Above alternate leaves each...

  How wonderful of God to hold us together, When man is prone to tear us part, Said the surgical student thoughtfully, As he practiced his learned art.   Jennifer Hinders lives outside Washington, DC. She’s an instructional assistant and part time freelance writer.  To see her publications, view  her...

By Carter Davis Johnson In a period where American literature was considered peripheral and amateur, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) helped create a national literature to challenge European authors. His poetry heralded the unique mythology, history, and nature of America. With lucid imagery and accessible meter, Longfellow became a leading poet and...

Jeremiah 52 When Judah rebelled against the Chaldean horde, They sought to gain freedom without help from the Lord, Trusting, instead, in the massive stone of their walls, Like Jericho had before the Jewish footfalls. Nebuchadnezzar came with his army of might, Which, before, had sent the Assyrians to flight....

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Hylas and the Nymphs by Beau Ecs Wilder John William Waterhouse's "Hylas and the Nymphs" must go; enchanting, pretty, water nymphs are far too much to show. Manchester Art has claimed it is unsuitable right now. It is offensive, and it must be censored,...

I’m born from a forked tongue’s hissing mutter, An ungrounded half-truth, forceless and tame. Just like a spark struck from flint I shudder At greater forces, a delicate flame, But human speech kindles my weak ember, And soon I blaze through villages and towns. Baring secrets for all to remember,...

  Sun slowly dipping in the western sky; the winds are light and the pine boughs tossing. From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy, walk to the river; time for the crossing. To the fields above, to graze for a meal; prance through the meadow, always listening. Hear...

  A robin should fly south before the snow, With others in the flocks of migrant birds, Quite safe amid this seas’nal ebb and flow— To miss the chance would surely be absurd! Yet some stay on regardless of the cold, They brave the ice and front the blust’ry winds,...

First Place ($500 Prize): C.B. Anderson, Massachusetts “Stonewalls Sometimes a Prison Make” “Praise for the Mother of Summer” “Meritocracy” "Verification" Second Place: Adam Sedia, Indiana “At Lincoln’s Tomb” “Vision” “Untitled” Third Place: Fr. Richard Libby, Texas “Made in China” (publication forthcoming) “When All the World Seems New” “You See Me...

Read about last night's lunar eclipse here. Thoughts on January 31, 2018’s Complete Lunar Eclipse Reflected Glory, full and bright, Transforming inky, blackest night To wonderland of silver-grey, A tintype of my world by day. But strangely, in the early hours, I wake as Full-Moon’s brilliance lours— So slowly, incrementally,...

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, drunk and weary, Over many a quaint and dimlit alley of forgotten doors— While I plodded, barely standing, suddenly I heard a chanting, As of someone softly ranting, ranting from the darkened doors. “It’s some other drunk,” I muttered, “chanting from the...

  The Last Time I Saw Paris You have imagined how it was, I expect: Troy’s famous towers burning, the city wrecked, the lines of weeping captives marched away, the streets strewn with corpses, the shore blood-flecked. And the woman  who caused it all:  why, me! Crying to  throw myself...

    Sort of Old I take my senior discount at restaurants and stores. I cover up my gray hairs with Clairol reservoirs My bathroom’s filled with potions I slather on my face. AHAs and Retinols are things that I embrace. No longer do I tuck in my skirts and...

At Lincoln’s Tomb Springfield, Illinois, 2016 Be glad you cannot rise to life and stand Outside that tomb to die again from shame At Illinois, your home, your prairieland, Transformed, yet quick to arrogate your name – A land of ruined hope, no longer great, Where silent foundries waste away...

Truman Capote was fired from his job as a copy boy for The New Yorker after he angered Robert Frost. Whose kid this is, I do not know, He seems to have a job here, though. He’s irritating, and quite fey, If they ask me, he’s got to go. He...

By David B. Gosselin The nature of the subject matter discussed in Dante Alighieri’s lyric poetry, his canzoni, has been debated time after time, generation after generation. While the Dantisti as they are called, the Dante scholars, will often take up the habit of prating on individual details and individual poems,...

By Brett Forester Writing but one fine, enduring poem is a remarkable achievement. Writing a book of great poems is an even rarer triumph. Yet in 1820, British Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (born August 4, 1792 - died July 8, 1822) published just such a book: Prometheus Unbound, with...

  Stone Walls Sometimes a Prison Make What might have happened once in Carolina To folks whose only wish was for some peace Is commonplace within the Wall of China, Where persons are abused without surcease. A so-called government that treats its people Like livestock destined for the autumn slaughter...

  The Garden of the Gods A Cywydd Llosgyrnog When storm clouds hid the Manitou*, They cloaked invaders from his view: Giants* who engendered fright With fearsome height and thundered tread. Their horrid creatures ran ahead— Kindled dread and panicked flight. Before their jaws devoured the land, A shaman knelt...

  Perked Coffee Things today are bad and getting worse, examples always seem to us abound: service for consumers seems perverse, and music does not have that vinyl sound. My garden pruners, they don’t last one season, and dealers’ auto service seems a scam, the prices for my phone plan...

Homer’s Iliad I.1-47. Translation in the epic hexameter, the meter of the Greek. Sing of the wrath, my goddess, of Peleus’ son Achilles, doomed and destructive, which gave the Achaeans numberless sorrows, sending so many robust souls down to the house of Hades, spirits of heroes, but bodies abandoned as...

  Lips, soft as velvet, primrose pink, Are rent the blue of bruising ink. They rive and crackle in the cold, Retract in tissue paper folds; Corroded strips as flayed as zinc Teased grey and gaunt, and growing old. Faint silver sands shake down like snow, Days melting slowly in...

  On Reading Ginsburg’s “Howl” Once, I possessed an open mind, Which I assure you was my own. I used it to read Ginsberg’s “Howl” Well, I don’t wish to be unkind But those words seemed randomly sown. My first reaction was a scowl. So I tried a second reading....

By Evan Mantyk Advertising for it is everywhere. If you haven’t seen it, you just haven’t been paying attention. A brilliantly colored image depicts a Chinese woman striking an airborne pose. But what is Shen Yun really all about? What does a performance involve? Whether you are a poet, an...

  On President Trump’s First Year in Office An earlier version of this poem was published with an explication in The Epoch Times. In Donald Trump we’ve found a man Who can the tides of time withstand, A seasoned duke, of vision strong, Who sees the picture hard and long. He...

  The Old Westerns No more heroes on horses named Trigger No more rugged, chapped, white hatted figures The bad guys today do not always wear masks At least not the exact kind they did in the past. Though crime existed in those olden days In the end, the wicked...

We New Yorkers love our real estate. We measure our bliss by the size of our rooms. We all need a place to park our freight. We apartment hunt on our first date in vacated spaces swept with a broom New Yorkers live for real estate. We speak mortgage point...

  The Oddity My pen and me set off to sea but washed up feeling useless; the cadent swell invoked a spell and story of Odysseus. While pen-wrecked there I would not hear those rhythmic words like Circe's; this poem must be Penelope and I a new Ulysses.   Seventy...

  Dreams as a Child Remember our lives in dreams as a child, When tingled excitement tickled inside, Surging in giggles which shivered our nerves, As hands clasped in joining’s which laughs only served, And then our hugged shoulders were high with the mirth, Of wondrous adventures that stemmed from...

By James A. Tweedie These days, William Cowper (November 26, 1731 - April 25, 1800) isn’t likely to be found on anyone’s list of “Top Twenty English Poets.” Fifty years after his death, however, three competing collections of his poetical works continued to sell with over 100,000 copies in print....

  Glacier Sleeping mistress of the land, Whose long repose the ages span, We tread across your fissured gown Until we find in looking down, We can at last discern and trace The chiseled beauty of your face, Where frozen tresses fresh with snow Across your granite shoulders flow. We...

When Horae's icy carpets sweep the dale And the heavy boughs shed their frozen tears, The earth is covered with her icy veil And mortals lashed with Time’s cold sneers. Yet let us not run from such cold deceived As our salted tears turn to wintry pearls The soul to...