Poetry

Sonnet I: Liu Haixiao Mr. Liu Haixiao (pronounced Leo High-shaow) is serving a 16-year prison sentence in Jilin Province, China,...

A rhupunt A modern place that maintains grace a safer place for all who come The airplanes fly the city...

I. As clear blue symbols dance before my eyes, And I lie still, my head upon the ground, Each part...

  You Decide Some know me as Destiny, The weaver of the cloth of Time. Although my looms are never...

By Con Chapman It has been a little more than eight years since poet Rachel Wetzsteon committed suicide at the...

12/03/17 Of all ye gods, that crown Olympus high, Who yet remains that man’s not brought to heel? When aircraft...

  Within what hut, My woodland maid, May I remain awhile? Next what fire may my chills Be warmed? Be...

  You caught me staring at you yesterday, or so it seemed, for you—you smiled and blushed and all your...

The Day the Poetry Died Wonder why poetry is in decline, While not ever writing one lyric line? There is...

After Joachim du Bellay’s "Les Regrets LXVIII" I hate the Florentines' foul avarice, I hate lewd Sienese profanity, I hate...

The neologist bakes the cake, The iconoclast shreds the recipe Deems the structure all a fake, But powerless against euphony,...

  The unchanging moor, but heeds season’s call To don her different well-coloured weeds, My heart is cold, left lonely;...

The Cymbal Player As bows and fingers quiver strings, as lungs and lips whip up the air, as notes soar...

by Lew Icarus Bede "A sonnet is a coin: its face reveals The soul—its converse, to what Power 'tis due:...

  Self-Love Some tenderhearted people claim We’re deficient self-esteem; Yes, a collective sense of shame Made despondency mainstream. While gloom...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch...

  The toys we buy at Christmastime (The decorations, too), Don’t come from elves in Santa’s shop, As we’ve been...

On the occasion of his birthday, 160 years ago, on February 27, 1848  At the Solitary Age of Twelve—Seven and...

  Budding darkness, in your starkness, void of noise and light, deliver me from what I see ’fore day turns...

  Living with Omnibenevolence Each one of us is furnished with an expiration date, And no one living has the...

Confucius Institute Workers (Excerpt) For Xinqun Note: Confucius Institutes are being or have been set up at major universities throughout...

gone the time for finding fault for finger-pointing and assault frantic now the SOS our ship of state is in...

It’s a vicious process, sonnet writing. It seems as every time I near the goal a syllable or rhyme eludes...

He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. The misreporting of great Caesar’s death Errs by one gross omission....

This life—O, how much more of it remains? The night is brief. Toward those short trees, we saw a bird,...

Which Is the Grandest Name of All? Which is the grandest name of all? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Winter sere or...

“But it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffending individual…so I let him alone.” —Major Patrick...

Tonight, I saw the moon Stalking me, watching me Hiding surreptitiously. She knows I know she's there She knows I...

There once was a girl named Shelly. who bought a pet fish by the deli. But to her surprise, with...

Insomnia Many's the night I lie in bed with words to write that fill my head. They twist and turn...

She sits in thoughtful silence, chin in hand, That old blue skirt hem covers her thin knees. Gazing west, the...

Fenghan Gao was an outstanding artist of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912 AD). He had profound wisdom and was multi-talented; he...

  I fear no more the settling of the night Or mind its grey, evaporating shades; Mine ears are deaf...

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...

. by David Bellemare Gosselin Today, seldom is Edgar Allan Poe's voice heard as it's drowned out by the popular...

  Like feathered tip of swooping sparrow Our kinship cuts like that of arrows A brother’s love has weakened me...

In another lifetime I was William Blake When I saw his work That was my take He wrote about love...

The sparkle on the river, the lights from distant shore, the cold and bitter glitter, the beckoning of more, Is...

Those Days and These “‘. . . Macbeth does murther sleep.’” —William Shakespeare If only such a villain were __Alone...

  Between the trees, along the path I hear the woodpecker tap tap tap. Beneath the bridge, cyclists roll through...