Poetry

  The Morning after the Parade On the terrorist attack on October 31, 2017 Most cowardly violence No moment of silence Let’s pretend that all is well All that once mattered Now fallen and shattered Here in the Great Living Hell The bicycle path The parade of wrath Chilling the...

Sweet Recollections an awdl gywydd Tea time, just my mom and me… ___memories so sweet and dear, knowing I was her first choice; ___still her voice is crystal clear. Some of my favorite hours. ___fresh cut flowers in a vase, aroma drifting after, ___her bright laughter giving chase. Drinks poured...

Sonnet XXV: Ode to Autumn Of shadows long and light of rarest gold, Abundant bringer, harvester of land, Receive, O Autumn, as in days of old, This wreath of olive from a poet’s hand! I sing the praises of your crimson hue With purple lips that kissed your blushing wines;...

By David Gosselin The answer to the above question is of course no. Shakespeare and Dante are not dead because every true poet is immortal. However, much of our contemporary thinkers seem to be under the impression that they are dead, and that they are not as relevant and talented...

. “Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.” -Norman Maclean Ask not the earth, ask not the sky, Drain not the firth nor pester, pry, Strain not the stone, nor probe the airs, To gain what’s known, amid what’s theirs. Beneath the stuff, below...

  Canzone 4 For Bob Hunter I am your eyes now, imaging memories, Amiens, Ypres, Flanders and the Somme; And in my secret world the pale dawn holds Out her hand bearing gifts that sight unfolds; But you have seen men in the sacred rites Of death, limbs twisted, bones...

Autumn Haiku The red squirrel flits From brown bark to golden leaf He is not gone yet   Winter Acrostic When cold winds blow and rain comes from the north In time, you see the days are growing short Now frost appears and creeps across the pane The crust of...

To Dawn by I. Warble Seduce I. Warble Seduce is a poet of Romantic leanings. Dawn is his paramour. 1. It's evening. An aroma of roses arises in the garden. Sunlit rays of gold enfold the myrrh and frankincense, a carpet under you, the best of days. Night lies down...

  End Rhyme Send in a poem they pretentiously beckon But they will not read any rhyming of rhymes There's no place now for creative wordsmithing Prose is the darling, full of self absorbed whines The obtuse, the indulgent, the prosaic, they'll read And heap platitudes endlessly, on genius they'll...

  Rioja is a land of wine. It’s famous in both fact and fable. It’s really not okay to dine Without a bottle of that fine Rioja beverage on your table! Now, it is red, full-bodied, sweet, A wine that’s either old or young. For young, the price cannot be...

  Scorn “Enargeîs is the technical term ‘for divine epiphany: a word that contains the dazzle of “white,” argós, which comes to designate a pure, unquestionable “conspicuous-ness” ’ ”.  ~ Michael Schmidt, The First Poets, 19 I wonder if perhaps we moderns know This brilliant whiteness much more clearly than...

An Introduction to Poetry and Its Place in an Integral Human Formation Introduction  It is well known to most sensible educators that one of the fundamental goals of their profession is the so-called “integral formation” of their students.  The enthusiastic educator strives to propose this formation, for he knows that to...

She asked, “Is the train on time, Mac?” He replied, “No, luv! It's on the track!” Teacher, “And what is bedrock, Fred?” Reply, “It’s rock music played on a bed.” What happens if rain lands on deer? Reply, “Then you will get reindeer!” And tell me then why hoots the...

  Let My Footstep Strike the Ground Like a Spear A Villanelle Let my footstep strike the ground like a spear Hear me bound through the groves of Sicily Drawing power from an Earth soaked in fear. With father, I run from thicket to clear Mt Etna rising to the...

  The Pilgrimage to Heaven Beneath the shadows whence no light embarks On paths renounced by most intrepid men; There, gypsies seldom find enchanting larks Or songs which overflow the silent glen. Circuitous routes aplenty lead to plains Where neither sweet repose nor respite wait; Some haunted bowers bear the...

  Commie Carcinomas When least expected they arrive, an avant garde of hordes wielding a deadly pestilence like slashing, bloody swords. Discovered far too often when repulsion is too late, as they, metastasized, become dictators of our fate. Inciting panic born of fear beyond all sane repose, they spread with...

As forecast now the sound of her arriving… That distant rumble from the driveway heard; A nearer clap, as though the night reviving Within the rush of breezes freshly stirred As forecast now, the pleasant calm retreating, What peace in here, a splendid deaf-and-dumb; As from the hall, a muted...

Of course, I like to see rainbows, But my heart hasn’t leapt for one; I’ve not wandered like a cloud blows, Though I’ve been lonely in the sun. Oh, I like Nature, that’s for sure— I just can’t feel Wordsworth’s amour. I’m sometimes in a pensive mood (And, yes, my...

Meritocracy When the Left tries to cow us and trammel our prowess ____We resort to a stiff upper lip, Well aware that their winning will spell the beginning ____Of our comeback the moment they slip. If the Government makes us repeat old mistakes, ____Then our indolent selves are to blame,...

Sonnet VI from Sonnets for Elizabeth Consider how the bards of old had sung Before their numbers vanished with the years, And how their harps delighted captive ears When thought itself was green and fancy young. Think how the meters of a distant tongue Gave figuration to men’s hopes and fears,...

The Mausoleum, Dumfries His crypt sealed by stones made by mother earth, A soft voice: This is where Robert Burns lies, Yon granite gaol is unmoved, unchanged, Tourists trek on through the graveyard, a dearth Of sound until they leave his hallowed cries Behind, written in black and well arranged;...

  Within my gardens soul abounds, A spirit stirring neath the ground, Aroused by secret depths that found, Concealed, inspired, a place profound. And as the rustling leaves surround, With stories from the breezes sound The haunting wind shall sing and pound, Upon the life beneath this mound. And in...

. . Boast of the Poplar My common green I turn to gold, As Summer’s steaming, burning hold is broke, unseemly in July, At the close to mollify. I the Poplar; broad my graft, I see afar: afore and aft, Uncloke my leaves at August crest, In golden sheaves I...

  ~ Dedicated to Falun Gong practitioners facing persecution in China Brutality meets decency and then What happens?  Hardness softens, or it cracks A little.  Craquelure might happen when The decency is struck.  Unless an axe Completely shatters bright compassion, right Can still survive, strong, beautiful, and calm. If brutal...

On Formal Slavery (to a Nation of Free Verse) For there are those that call us slaves.  How poor and simple we must be to cling to ties that stretch us, bend our purpled backs before some ruthless lash and ask for more.  A slight psychotic tendency, a dream of...

Columbus Statues Defaced A haiku High-jacked history An Autumn of mutiny We are lost at sea   A Step Beyond A step beyond The Enemy lurks directing his army  of mindless jerks in the conduct of an Uncivil War and no one knows what they're fighting for. Foundations shake, conventions break and the...

  What is my body that was never mine, That, fevered, it should waste below the deck? I rise, instead, to face the ocean’s brine, The Muslim’s wrath, the ending of my trek. What is the ball that penetrates my chest, If not the lead that tipped the Roman’s scourge...

  Basics Tonight I paint flowers on my tablet. I wanted to write about deeper things like God and love and time and death which brings me again to the compulsive habit of pursuing the truth. On this planet it is probably one of our failings to overlook truth in...

  "A man’s as old as he’s feeling …" ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge “If the body frees the mind in its quest For youthful dreams to be forever young Let not Time play such games like cricket test* To stay batting because the gloves are hung. If I should sit...

  Productivity Lately a feeling's been making me twitch, The Creator in me has too long sat bewitched. Too idle He sits, and He longs to express, some insightful new thought that he does not possess. I should be very pleased that He's been so subdued, that he's given me...

Joe Stalin led his country for just short of thirty years— Three decades filled with purges, hunger, suffering and tears. “To make an omelet,” he once said, “you have to break some eggs.” By “eggs” he meant some heads and necks along with arms and legs. Not counting war (or...

Decades later, his voice still heard: Sustainable, organic, and home-grown. We're reaping what he'd wisely sown: Ahimsa*, respect, main keywords. His foresights make us rethink world, A balanced outlook, clearly shown. For humble, simple life was well-known, Ethics, morality, old school words. Respect for Nature, he felt strong, Cared not for...

Blasphemy A Reflection On the Murder of Two Women Outside the Gare Saint Charles in Marseilles, France, This Morning, October 1, 2017 “Allahu akbar!” The words rang clear, As if the man was shouting them at me. I had no way of knowing they would be The final words that...

by Jane Blanchard Beatrice, Dante Alighieri’s second guide in La Divina Commedia (The Divine Comedy), makes her literary debut in an earlier work, La Vita Nuova (The New Life), a combination of prose and poetry that details his encounters with the girl, and then the woman, who became his muse....

The Teacher to His Students The ghost… the ghost of Hamlet’s father, came To walk the castle walls one moonless night. This father, once the king, had come to blame His brother, for his grave, incestuous slight: He’d murdered him and took the queen as wife, Then clutched the crown...

Reluctant night is slowly retreating The earth in gray, dim shades still hovering, Dawn strides out leisurely to wake each farm Her sleepy liquid light now makes sand warm, This morning nymph arises from sea pearls She’s wearing magic misty gown of swirls, Her gleaming bracelet borrowed from sun rays;...

“Carlotta Capuccino , ‘Plato’s Ion and the Ethics of Praise,’ takes the . . . view that poetry deploys ‘groundless praise’ and ‘promotes a dogmatic and passive style of life and thought,’ and so is ‘essentially incompatible with philosophy.’” ~ https://ndpr.nd.edu/news/plato-and-the-poets/ The pupa waits. Dogmatically it will Become a Luna...

  Scientists of the world were meeting Stars among them they were feting Challenges new they were seeking Of wine and wisdom, they were reeking "We have caught the long tail of pi We did count the stars in the sky Oceans depths too we have found out Source of...

  Incarnation I: Ego Mater Pulchrae Dilectionis I blossom forth delights on fruitful vine; My grapes are opulent and fair, Productive of a deep, supernal wine Of highest knowledge, hope, and fear. Late summer’s honey, heavy in the comb, Shall never be as golden nor as sweet As I am...

Click here to download the entire book as a pdf file. By Leonard Dabydeen In the fraternity of poetic minds we can luxuriate joyously on the richness of old age, or on becoming old but fresh as sunshine in its glory across expansive horizons. Polish poet Stanislaw Jerzy Lec said, “Youth...