Poetry

What a Wit is Worth For John Whitworth, poet Oh,  Whitman was a rhymer who enjoyed to play the part Of complicating everything.  It's something of an art To ramble on for pages on the pinprick of a thought, Which makes word choice irrelevant, and form seem overwrought, And chokes the...

What thoughts has thinking hard put in my brain, that show a different world than my eyes see, before, things easier were, clear and plain, but now are always less than used to be. What did I learn from all that reason claims? A lot indeed, and that can’t be...

You’ve not come to a meeting in three years— Within the movement, there are buzzing fears That marriage has ensnared you in its cage. And frankly, I myself have reached the stage Where anger has replaced the old respect. Now don’t get sulky—what did you expect? A happy private life...

  “Vexed by a verb!” I often vent, undeniably discontent. Let my quirky quote be the key to promoting a patent plea for the status I’d reinvent: Pairing “I am” with “years” has meant an identity I resent; being defined by age makes me vexed by a verb! The remedy...

On the Protesters Filled With Hate By Bruce Dale Wise And while American airports were filled with screaming hate, Chief Petty Officer Will "Ryan" Owens met his fate, caught in a raid against Al-Qaida's force in Yemen's love. Who gives a damn for him who gave the last full measure...

First Prize ($500): James Sale, Bournemouth, United Kingdom “In Telling This Story” “Obi-Wan Bin Laden RIP” “Imitating Shakespeare’s Sonnet 107” Second Prize: Lorna Davis, California “Buyer’s Remorse” “At the Gates of Heaven” “The Garden Guest” Third Prize: C.B. Anderson, Massachusetts "Water Music" "Heaven and Nature Sing" "Taqqiya"  Honorable Mention Courtney Dowe,...

  Bubbles I swish the stick To watch a spread of bubbles gleam; Free and delightful they float Almost a dream. This pristine orbs, A fragile yet audacious batch Seem hopeless until they reveal A rainbow patch. They move away And occupy a placid realm To demonstrate the physics of...

by Evan Mantyk WHAT DOES THE classic Chinese story Journey to the West have to do with William Shakespeare’s classic play Hamlet? A lot it turns out. Both Hamlet and Journey to the West were written in the late 16th century, one in China and the other in England. Both rely heavily on poetry. Both also are...

  A Strange and Sweet Unrest Awake forever with a sweet unrest . . .” —John Keats, “Bright Star” She stands at the windowpane, no one in sight, No one behind her in the silent room, No human form to be seen in the sultry night; And, for a moment,...

Trees, Libraries, and Chinese Communism To wrap a ribbon round a UK tree And tie it into Chinese tyranny, Or flag up five star Chinese hostelry Above a Yorks* Art Deco library, May tighten minds to ask: “How can that be?”— The links are not far fetched. Please bear with...

“This foyer of the spirit is the seat of a sovereign.” - Anca Rosu The lyric lures release of thought, emotive creation, human-made; a breath-carved essence in one’s idea, the living word in phrases drawn, life’s lost thoughts of ages gone, words old as grass or dreams. Emotion’s measure from...

Ballad: Our Crew of Two When we set forth, the breeze blew fair, The sun shone balmy, warm. Our sheets were fixed; sail filled with air, No warning of the storm. Our crew of two, so cheerfully, With confidence untried, Thought we could lick the strongest sea And still enjoy...

Song of Ulysses For greatness and glory’s sake For all things rich and noble In proud ships tall let us make Again where only men are able Tired we’ve grown of glitter and gold Of the clamor of the market place Let us dream of Delphic days of old That...

  Old School I saw two women at a table in a small café Not making eye contact or talking, but in their own way Communicating, and I found myself a bit perplexed. Then realized that they had iPhones®, and were sending texts. They sipped their drinks without a word,...

  “Tourist, see this stained beach in Tripoli Where one and twenty men were forced to kneel Ere cutting down their heads by unholy Fanatics, as god’s servants themselves feel They are still at large, offer flesh and blood And mock god by empty prayer, fasting But their most heinous...

Buyer’s Remorse How long are we allowed to close our eyes To who produces what our money buys? How can it be that goods made by a slave Are justified by how much cash we save? The cargo ships that crisscross every sea Are loaded high with human misery, But...

The "Greatest Show on Earth" Is Coming to a Close By Sirc de Budalewe The "Greatest Show on Earth" is coming to a close in May; financially it could not make it in the USA. The Ringling Brothers-Barnum-Bailey—names will go away, Feld Entertainment, circus owner, has announced today. No longer...

My Goldfish Has an MFA Roundel for Gillian My goldfish has an MFA; I got official notice just today. Of course, she cheated all the way, but, still, my goldfish has her MFA. She thought about a web-based MBA, but business ops collapse from day to day and life is...

  Walked the Mountain What shape is that, the mountain's brow? A glacier field, a glacier field! I walked to read the mountains mood; Of what I read my lips are sealed. What threads make up the mountain's collar? Columbine! They're Columbine! I walked to color in my day; Do...

Rising above the silt and murky mud, Clean and pure is the small pink bud, Supported by a supple stem of jade, Adorned with gleaming dew drops, crystal made. Elegant yet sweet this gentle bloom, Penetrating the bleak, surrounding gloom, Steadfast, and honorable heart unmoved, Its light fragrance adds to...

Shin-Rin-Yoku Forest Bathing You stand beneath this canopy of trees, surrender will, hold still.   You close your eyes and listen as the rustling of the leaves and lapping breeze-blown waters tranquilize. Inhaling deeply, you can breathe the smell of dew-damp soil, the scent of pungent pine, organic emanations.  All is...

Pibroch of the Domhnall   By Joseph Charles MacKenzie Author’s Notes: § The refrains at the end of each stanza are to be recited by the Inaugural crowd. § A Pibroch is a rallying bagpipe tune and is pronounced like “PEA-brohgh.” § Domhnall, the Scottish form of the name Donald,...

  Here is a riddle, a brain-teaser of sorts Rev up your noggin or the answer you’ll miss Mark. Set. Get ready for a fun little sport The pivotal problem goes something like this: Some of gold. Some cold like stone. No wood, no chimney. Yet four rooms With naught...

  Departure Like escaping through a siege, growing older       Hampers itself with hopes of return; So if, over your bare shoulder, Upwind palaces start to smolder,       Let them burn. Woken by ax-hack and sword-clang, at once you knew       Better than to arm for the defense Of gates your foes stream...

Fake News By Caud Sewer Bile Fake news is rather difficult to say just what it is. What's fake to listeners could be what's true to someone else. And no news outlet can be free from slanting what they find, and crafting articles that seem to fit their point of...

  The Terrorists Tears feed the sweeping sands beneath their feet, And blood runs deep into the living ground. The sun throbs down with agonizing heat. The captives kneel, blindfolded, with no sound: Only the jitter of the distant bug, The hum of desert winds above the trees, The spikes...

  The gown and the date are set, caterers and florists I’ve met. The hall has been booked, no detail overlooked Wait...I don’t have a groom just yet!   There once was a very young rat who thought himself a big, black bat. So, he leapt off a chair and...

  The Desert We were flying in a desert, an oasis to drink dry. We gorged ourselves on date palms and spat in nature’s eye. We’ve been lying in a desert where the wine of life’s run dry, for the plane’s no more returning, all the fuel’s been blown sky-high....

  We may hear some Bible phrase and laugh. __That book has no monopoly on ‘goods’. Some words clang, we tip its old tin bath __and out rolls “Baby Jesus” with the suds. Like cliqué’d, much-repeated, ringtone rings __whose lyricisms lessen with their use, these old-time, evangelic heraldings __are squeezed...

By Dusty Grein Dating to the thirteenth century, the terza rima (Italian for "third rhyme") is a classic form of writing poetry in three-line stanzas called tercets, which are interlinked by their rhyming pattern. They use the ending sound from each tercet’s middle line, as the first and third of...

Water Music Just as white as a blanket of new-fallen snow Is the noise of a waterfall cresting a brim And ebulliently thrashing the basin below. But the sound of a freshet resembles a hymn, Its discrete iterations like chants that were spoke By the guardian spirits of hillside and...

The Speaker Unaccustomed to Such Oratory Feats The speaker - unaccustomed to such oratory feats - cleared his throat, a bit too loudly, while he fumbled through his sheets. The crowd sensed, early on, that they were in for a rough ride - when he called the "ladies" "laddies" and...

By Evan Mantyk From The Iliad, Beowulf, and Shakespearean literature in the West to the Chinese Classic of Poetry, the Indian Ramayana, and the Middle Eastern Epic of Gilgamesh, classical poetry is the foundation of literature in almost every culture historically. Today, if you can understand, appreciate, and write a...

  Color streams burst brightly in a flourish of elation, Each to soar and cover night's condoning, lofty, canvas – Livening this moment, man-made shooting stars' vibration Emanate our gladness to be living. Will they preface Broad displays of kindness to complete this hopeful painting? Righteous souls endeavor, far and...

  Tapestry A Miltonian Sonnet The pattern on the underside confused By snarl and tangle, jumbled, twisting knot. Its warp and woof embroidered without thought It seems: the flawless linen now infused With spots of wreckage--perfect weave abused. “A waste of thread,” I cry, upset, distraught, And try to pluck...

  How Can You Feel Blue? How can you feel blue When you look toward the sky And see the darkling silhouette Of birds, as gracefully they fly In strict formation 'cross The iris of your eye? How can you feel blue When you pause upon the shore To watch...

For King Charles I of England On the day I asked for a second shirt So my people would not see me shiver In the cold breeze blowing from the river And think me afraid to die or be hurt On that scaffold above the mud and dirt, Or mistake...

  There are no predators in the wood So deer run free who never could And hunting’s forbidden So deer don’t stay hidden And ticks thrive in trillions Off the hides of millions Spreading diseases and infection Which reaches us without detection Until suddenly the whole community Is looking for...

  Holiday Horror: A True Story By Lucy Giardino Cortese Twas two weeks before Christmas And all through the house Water standing in puddles Mama starting to grouse Three pipes in the floor Had all busted their stuff Brown shag carpets soggy One would think that’s enough But the calamities...

To Michael Dana Gioia* By Cal Wes Ubideer The Word within the World that articulates itself does not exist in sunlight or in leaves upon a shelf, upon computer monitors, or on stones on a path; the Word speaks only dialects of purest being's math, the human kiss somehow divine...