Poetry

  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...

  How I long for the days gone by, Such memories overtake me. I look back on my life and sigh, May the future not forsake me. All the fond thoughts of yesteryear, Coupled with the thoughts of regret; Love of life is ever so near, It captures my soul...

  Beyond the brimming ages Gabriel waits, his foremost message burning on his breath. Through time men slide, creeping through the gates of birth and out again the doors of death. He sees kings rise and kingdoms fall to dust; he sees unnumbered souls unfleshed; to some he gives slight...

  Translated by Ihar Kazak At the door it seems I hear The stomping of evil strangers. This has been my fear for many a year And my former anxiety’s dangers. It’s an apparition in the night Of times endured… Once again the ravens fly in sight To my garden...

(by the ancient lawgiver who threw himself on his blade to satisfy a legal technicality) 625 b.c.e. Yours is a hard but hardy justice: When __The Poets weighed their verses on the scale, Proud Homer saw the Verse of Peace prevail __Against his wars—But both sprang from one pen: You...

  Though all the world should grovel and bend To the minions of deepest hell, Our days of glory shall not end Where brave men fought and brave men fell! We’ll take a stand to save our land And march with the Lad of Luton! Let cowards crawl to the...

. The Black Children In China, until rather recently, each pair of parents was allowed one kid, according to the “one-child policy.” Some parents had another, which they hid. Unregistered, these kids are sometimes sold to traffickers who make them prostitutes. If they refuse, they're left out in the cold;...

  From the stations they sent out a call To their jillaroo friends - one and all; For an overnight camp, while the sky bore the stamp Of a cloudless day darkened from view. So they came in farm utes, with their dogs: Kitted out in their boots, working togs;...

  I am a captive of the wicked queen. My mind’s a blank; the temptress took my soul. I know too well  what this desire must mean. And oh! The evil beauty I have seen. Though loving her must take a dreadful toll, I am a captive of the wicked...

Note: Teaching classical poetry rather than other forms of poetry or modern literature makes a difference. Inherent in classical poetry is a respect for tradition, for order, for discipline, and for the uplifting heritage of our shared human civilization. The good values that are inherently fostered will improve classroom behavior...

Anonymous (12th Century), 'Du bist mein' ('You are mine') I am yours and you, mine are; Of this ought you be 'ware. You are a part of, prisoner in, my heart; The little key is gone afar. You must remain there, where you are.   The original (modernised): Du bist mein, ich bin dein; Des...

  He thinks in lines And vexing vertices. His shining mind always inclines To maths and magnitude, minute degrees Of formulae, and the impossibilities He has deciphered with those symbol-signs. The architect Perceives the things the rest Of us forget. He can erect The best and boldest buildings, which attest...

  Ere gloaming wanes, acceding sable night, As writhen mists conceal a pallid moon, From bastion vigil, thou descry a sight; To rumours, foul and fey, thine ears attune. Beyond the eaves of darkness lurks thy foe, Where craven men are loath to tread—and lag, Thou, heedless, don thy panoply...

William Ruleman: Profane and Sacred Love, Feather Books, 2002 and reprint 2014 by James Sale Having read some excellent poetry by William Ruleman on the pages of the SCP I determined to buy a collection so that I could take a bigger view of his work. I mention this because...

O how I long to hold thee in my arms, And taste again of nature’s sweet reprieve, To cast off masks, false affectations, charms; To savor all I had before you leave. For thee alone I lie awake at night, Tortured by the memories unmade, For that alone I scorn...

Room 402:  Gehenna Comes to New York (On Governor Andrew Cuomo’s Jan. 22,2019 repeal of New York’s Public Health Law § 4164)   Note:   “Room 402” does not refer to any specific event happening in a certain room, but  was chosen at random to represent any room in which a...

The Bad The first video of Hannah Silva instructs us on the abyss that poetry reading has found itself in today. The irrationality and baseness of slam poetry has given way to experimental poetry that doesn't even involve words at all (sent in my M. P. Lauretta). If you find...

Early Morning Winter Walk Footprints follow like a shadow as I walk Through early morning snow as white as powdered chalk. Dragon-steam appears with each expired breath Embraced by frigid-fingered air as cold as death. Crystal-laden dune grass bows beneath its load And ice-etched, frozen puddles line the frosty road....

  Three Thousand Years before Apple and Three Thousand Years after the iPad I carry in my knapsack poems by The ancient Greeks, the eldest ones, the best, The best of elders. They are still as spry As dolphins’ arcs beside Argosy’s quest. Lines wait within the safety of the...

apropos of 'The Threads' by E. Mantyk I fell into a radiant sleep; Thereon into dream and seeing: A paradise seemed me to keep; In its walls, the seeds of being. Thus thrown into this strange-sweet place, Sauntered I about, unknowing What ought I do with this rich grace Action...

. Though beauty also beckons there, Mt. Shasta’s peak projects severe, So from her panoramic view, Is cast a pall on me and you And everyone approaching here, Courage take but caution, fear -ing much to broach her topic light, On foot, on sled, by rail, or flight For space...

The Fate of Fine Art Too late to turn the clock back on fine art, Egregious oxymoron that it may Be called today, but where to find the start Of this, the slow beginnings of decay? For once we found our world inside the space That we saw bounded by...

Translation by Martin Hill Ortiz  Farewell to the Royal Gardens at Aranjuez by María Rosa Gálvez de Cabrera of Spain (1768-1806) Aranjuez: forest, rich with flowers, Through which the tangled Tajo glides, Within your thousand brilliant colors A meadow where my heart resides. And how your songbirds flattered me! I'd swear...

Mother of Falun Gong They said my mother would be back tomorrow, They said her smile would still shine proudly here, Her hand brush off the dreadful, bitter sorrow That manifests itself within a tear, But twenty years had faded like wan mists That glide and winnow on a brackish...

  Who Killed Poetry? A Critique of Modernism and Post-Modernism (Part I) by Edward C. "Ted" Hayes A Prefatory Poem (or a Gaggle of Goosefeathers) Some will judge this essai the exact thing it’s not – Distilled, unvarnished, contemned tommyrot For asserting mod poets’ sad lack of discernment And non-Sense...

  I like it, though it’s very dark; The firelight a fading arc Along the tree, whose ageing bark Shows day is near. I like it, but have questions yet: I do not know where this is set, And are they strangers? Have they met? Why are they here? The...

  Before the Darkness  a rondeau Before the darkness brings about the night and steals the world’s colors from your sight, paint all your memories in vivid hues. Let not the darkness be the path you choose. Nay! In your dreams, keep every color bright! You cannot halt the fading...