Poetry

  Déja Do you remember when a piece of art Held truth or meaning in its oil or stone— And beauty even?  Paintings would impart Aesthetic truth and not just some sweet tone Of glowing like a Rothko, luminous But void like Close Encounters of the Third Kind’s shimmer.  Artefacts were numinous Like...

Post your poetry on the recent terrorist attacks in England in the comments section at the end of this post.   The Light of New Hope By Connie Phillips I. Bombings, beheadings, bizarre wanton slashings; Babies are burning, their mothers all dead; Fathers are bleeding, and die ’mid the ashes;...

By Sandeep Kumar Mishra There are two things that came to my mind when I read the book Hare Krishna by Mahathi: First, in this modern era in which every person thinks himself a poet, the shape, size and sweetness of the traditional poetry has been lost. Now, it is an...

  Taking a Gambol A rabbit’s life’s a gambol, A fortunate existence; Giving time enough to spare For frolics in the bramble, Bunny-hops from here to there, Some chewing for subsistence. But in dreary contrast we Refuse to twitch our noses At sweet treasures given free - The perfume of...

Thank you to everyone who participated in the Funny Food Poetry Contest, including Judges Michael Curtis, Lorna Davis, William Ruleman, James Sale, and Bruce Dale Wise. We had quite a number of people serendipitously break the 14-line limit rule and thus created an entire category for them, which you will...

The tears of a nation are shared by us all, We stand with those countries whom terror befalls; The innocent taken, destroyed by the vile, Their heinous objectives we can’t reconcile, Or count them as acts of religious devotion; No God promotes terror, their piety’s a notion To falsely give...

I Think I Like You Better Now I think I like you better now; it’s been a little while Since first you took my breath away with just a passing smile. When love was fresh and new and fast, before life took its toll-- I think I like you better...

The Flowers Upon a morning stroll serene Across many young floral gardens Greeting me on those fields of green Was the red rose who all love pardons. The humming bird about it flutters The bees its sweet soft hues admire But I hear a miser who mutters As storms prepare...

Penelope’s Postscript Uncounted days, wrung dry of tears— Lost wanderers do not return: So much for the departed years. Heap up my mangled hopes and fears, Leave Ithaka to mock and spurn Uncounted days. Wrung dry of tears I shut from my importuned ears The suitors’ pleas. How could I...

Tipton County, Tennessee, 1917 My great-grandfather cut down huge black oaks Whose stumps his two young sons helped him uproot, Each some Yggdrasil yielding to the strokes Of manic axes in their mad pursuit Of Paradise providing ample fruit, A man with two boys made to work as men, Their...

Ephemeral Constant With hued music, beautified page. His spheres were thinner than gossamer, Only to beauty, did Keats defer. Was omni-sensory, ahead of his age, Gifted synesthete; few could gauge. Lines between realities could he blur, With Psyche, or nightingale easily confer. Complex were stanzas, of youthful sage. ‘Cockney’ image...

By Joseph Charles MacKenzie James Sale, whom I happen to consider England’s best on the subject, states: “To write poetry with any degree of power, and to create true beauty without which the effort is vain, requires form and discipline.” Of form and discipline our poet is never in want....

  Sonnet IV. Edward the Confessor Edward, the Cross no more on England’s shores Thy people blesses. The light of faith is gone. From stolen thrones the foes of Christ wage wars Against thy sons, and not one sword is drawn. Thy Westminster, by pagan rites profaned, Where thy pure...

Dying Muse Not everyone will survive The muse has sung her last song The end is about to arrive It has been following us all along The forest is groaning in pain She sheltered her creatures with love Her labors were all given in vain Of her plight she knew...

Click here to read Part I. Montague (That afternoon, on the outskirts of Verona, at a Club, getting in an afternoon’s worth of pheasant shooting, having needed to get out of town and “think about things;” although presently eating peanuts and breaking at the bar… Capulet is also there.) O...

We are pleased to announce the release of a new publication from The Society of Classical Poets titled How to Write Classical Poetry, which features a guide to common poetry forms, brief essays on the relevance of poetry today to the general (non-poet) public, and analysis of great classical poems...

  Mine eyes beheld your beauty, My thoughts remember how, Your loveliness I cherish, Where ever you are now, And in my heart I know you, Always to be near, Because your vision glories, My picture of you clear, And while this life we passage, Your bloom will help me...

  “She vanished to the wood,” they said. “Forget her—that strange and sickly child.” A child? Your face was no more childish than mine. And yet not a proper prospect. The Queen defiled my kingdom’s sight who saw you as a waif with reddest lips and whitish skin, no queen...

If I had words grating and crude enough That really could describe this horrid hole Supporting the converging weight of hell … Canto XXXII, Dante If only we could but we can’t Release some souls from hell through words, Or maybe better by some chant So magical it would be...

  Justice,  Equity  and  Compassion  in  Human  Relations In realms of Humankind’s relations, Justice rules as queen & from her crown, the powers Compassion & Equity descend to Earth like stars, divine & regal past all seen to glorify those hearts sublime that scorn all Evil’s seeds, for Virtue feeds...

Two Mourning Doves Friendship on the promenade? I know to some it may sound odd but there above, two mourning doves in the weeping willow tree! They share their grief and find relief in the bonds that set them free. For tho' he cries each time she flies the tears...

We live in a post-modernist world and its values are everywhere around us; and everywhere these values are almost largely unexamined, and because we have little to contrast our present state with we fail to see how lamentable and poor we are. There is a deep materialism running through society...

  There was a man who owned a yacht. His name was Dan when it was hot he brought his clan on board a lot to get a tan. When it was not, “So what!” _____________So rot got into Dan and soon began his yacht to rot and from the...

(The BBC story here for reference) If I were burdened with a lover who Looked crooked like this woman (woman?), I Would go as twisted as Picasso.  Blue Lips, though, are what I’d paint to help me shy Away from her (or him?—can’t really tell), And if the her/him face looked...

Baby boomers are aging Sometimes, dementia takes hold It isn’t a pleasant thing But happens as folks get old Personalities might change This can cause consternation When someone starts acting strange It’s a bad situation What is a person to do When a friend becomes bonky? Relationships get ruined When...

By Joshua Philipp The Japanese creation story begins in a time of primordial chaos, and from this the god Izanagi and the goddess Izanami emerge to create the Japanese islands. This is the first tale in The Kojiki, the oldest surviving Japanese book. It tells of the ancient legends of...

  Could the dandelion be excused for not being a rose, If its effort to grow was much greater; If it labored and toiled Through unfavorable soil, And bloomed just a little bit later? Would its gaunt be forgiven and size overlooked If the looker could see what's within? Sure,...

  Golden Opposite of Grave Beauty The Buddhist, Yuezun, saw light like gold Above the blistering sands.  The desert blight Of Taklamakan gained no stranglehold On shimmering beauty.  There above cliff height A thousand golden Buddhas sang and danced With heavenly maids, celestial in strength And rhythm.  Yuezun had only chanced Upon this...

Degrees of Light She squinted, watching circling gulls Fly overhead; small rhythmic waves Slapped steadily upon ship hulls. Brown crabs dashed out from wet sand caves Evading hungry birds; dried fins Of fish lay underneath palm trees. Sleek dolphins laughed with long fixed grins, Warm west wind stirred, strong humid...

ADULT AWARDS   1st Place – $500 Josh Lefkowitz, “A Poem of Fact” 2nd Place – $250 Kathleen Hellen, “Everyday Halloween” 3rd Place – $150 Lorna Davis, “Buyer’s Remorse” 4th Place – $100 Alexandra Umlas, “Falun Gong” 5th Place– $75 A.R. Harmon, “Welcome Tree”   Honorable Mentions | Adult   George Ian...

  Heaven Smiles for Falun Gong O you who stand so strong through wind and rain, So like those statues lasting through the years, Impervious to time’s assaults and pain, Unfazed by human doubts and crippling fears. With hearts of gold and wills of diamond made, With fliers in hand,...

  A Sonnet for the Sonnet-Maker You know the beats and rhythms, the iamb Which pulses like a crippled-legged walk; You, with the force of one who said, “I am That I am,” in iambs you will talk Of truth and beauty, pain and sorrow, all And nothing, touching Heaven...

Jutting out of a mountain their stone faces peer out with their notice crucified in stone. Crafted to demand a nation’s reverence visitors would mediate and atone. But who can expect more than imperfection now that their sullied reputations bark from static news chatter and journals that sit higher up...

By Evan Mantyk A veritable Renaissance woman, Sally Cook is both an accomplished poet who's regularly published in National Review and an accomplished artist whose paintings are on display at the Burchfield Penney Art Center, of the State University of New York. Her recent poem on the demerits of Walt Whitman caused quite...

  Rising unbidden, a fury unspent, I hear the high keening of tribal lament, Of ancient injustices never forgiven, Never forgotten, rising unbidden. Where are the horsemen who raided our village, Came without warning to plunder and pillage? Who are they now, in what lives are they hidden? An old...

  Steel Masks King Henri II of France was accidentally killed in 1559 during a festive tournament when he was lanced in the eye by Gabriel Montgomery, seigneur de Lorges, a member of his Garde Escossaise. A young Italian nobleman named Luigi Corbinelli witnessed the event, and was so profoundly...

In that part of the day that briefly follows night, before the turning finds the steady lying line from where the biggest star will mount and will get bright, I turn me inside out and start to lift my spine. In that part where the day does start, there are...

  Humanity is a word to be earned─ I sing my song as a bitter wind blows, a chant from my heart to be carried far, I sing my song as falling darkness grows; as I sing  my sadness and sorrow grows. How can I tell the world that love...

Monsoon Dance In Quintets Go back, O' spry peacock, go back into thy dense coppice! The sylvan clock did spell a sly lie! Monsoon is far… ah still a tear in summer's eye! With stars, the sky is clear! Restless our yeomen are staring at sky. The deer and bunnies...

Written upon watching this video. Note that May Day is the international day honoring workers.     Mayday on May Day By Damian Robin and Evan Mantyk With their pins and strings and force withal And gloves as white as pus, Like Marxist carpet wall to wall They raise appalling...