Poetry

. Kilkenny Castle A moat runs dry revealing secrets buried those conquerors and conquered knights had known. The past, a relic—bits and pieces carried, some seen in present life, some overgrown by history’s décor. And at its core A castle built of wood and later stone. We in the present...

. Making All Things Orderly Stare at grey clapboards in unbroken rows That seem to follow the unceasing sound Of thrumming traffic, with no vibrant red Or swaying leaves to soften sunlight’s blows. Poems of air and chlorophyll’s repose Have gone; the smallest traces can’t be found; Destroyed, as some...

. in reference to an Epoch Times' exposé We’re in the loop, we’re up the sleeve, we’re near the Party’s armpit. As high rank cadres we can’t leave, we know too much, God damn it ! Hard working, in-the-know, we spy in worldwide institutions. Nobody knows more on the sly...

. Heliotrope Phaeton, son of the god Helios, attempted to drive his father’s celestial chariot. His inexperience caused him to burn up part of the earth and the heavens, so he was killed by a thunderbolt from Zeus. The frightened gods all breathed in deep relief (Thunderer, thanks! You’ve saved...

. With How Sad Steps from a Philip Sidney sonnet With how sad steps, O Moon, you climb the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What see you? Humankind’s excessive pace Getting from here to there? We are not wise, Who to alarm clock daily need arise,...

. Nest Egg The things for which I hoped have come and gone: The power to express a cogent thought; Ability to wake at break of dawn; Approval from a nearly perfect wife; And will to execute what I’ve been taught. But this is not to say that all is...

. —like his saddle, hat, and spurs No silver on this cowboy’s working saddle; borne bedrolls, stray calves, and dry canteens, carried beside lame mounts home to the stable, baptized in thunderstorms and mountain streams —horn scarred by years of lariat, grooved deep. The smell of leather, home, a cowboy’s...

by Adam Sedia Contemporary poetry is plagued by several characteristic vices: obscurity, banality, nihilism---each a topic for examination in its own right. But its most glaring and even characteristic vice is an omnipresent solipsism---a narcissistic navel-gazing by which the poet elevates superficial autobiographical detail to the level of a poetic...

. Each view deemed inconvenient is a fake, no matter if deep down you know it’s true. When one lot says a colour’s red, I’ll make a bet with you the other says it’s blue. This double-think duplicity where facts and common sense get pushed aside by hate results in...

. Am I, am I beautiful? Surely my face qualifies: Forehead pearly bright to rise Over sweetest lips cerise. Tell me if I’m beautiful! Cupid’s brows I have, green eyes, Rounded chin, nose small in size, Blonde curls blowing in the breeze; Am I, am I beautiful? Firmness my high...

. https://youtu.be/9VRUjxFxQ2A?list=PLfUp4UiBMcEZC4Hgnr33FpijP5W5mRNo6&t=102 “A star!” the wise man shouted, “Look, a star!” forgetting the hour and his solitude, or else too overjoyed to heed the time— then, starting at the ghostly echo through the tower’s highest chamber, shook with fright and with a jolting hand silenced his lips. Nobody heard him;...

. O Say Can It Be? "How long you been suckin’ up oxygen, friend? For seventy years? Well now that’s gonna end! And moochin’ off Social Security too? The Great People’s Zoo is the next stop for you! You’ll be in their keep, but not for very long, Till they...

. Brimstone I sniff a whiff of brimstone in the tone Of smooth effusions oozing from his tongue. A lick of sulfur clings like stale cologne To slickest syntax eloquently strung Like lustrous pearls to wrap around the throat That swallows every sickening cliché. The polished bleating from a cheating goat Is honed to lead the sweetest sheep astray. I hear his cloven hoof tap to the beat Of hapless hearts all fed the plumpest pledge--- That putrid fruit the...

. A Black-Listed Species The avian community is glad He’s dying out, the mad oölogist. With every species on the British list He always wanted more eggs than he had, And on his checklist those he had to add Were those his greedy eyes could not resist. So sad, this...

. Birds in Flight by David Whippman “Free as a bird,” that's what we always say, "It's time to spread my wings and fly away, I have to find myself, fly high and free!" Birds are the metaphors of liberty. They seem free, for they have the gift of flight,...

. Choose a famous poem and write it in limerick form, putting the title of the original poem at the top. Please fit your chosen poem into one limerick (five lines) only. See "How to Write a Limerick." Post your limerick in the comments section below. See examples: . Nothing...

. The below poem is a memoir of the summer of 2020, to be sung to the tune of “I’ve Been Everywhere,” with apologies to Geoff Mack and Hank Snow. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6JSfp6Az3k . I was standing by a shop along a dark and crowded street When along approached a cop and...

. Dirge for a Dying Diva Who’s alive now who ever heard the voice That once adorned La Scala and The Met, A native of this land where we forget Artists quicker than books or melted ice? The wonder of her lovely lyric highs Survives in one rich memory as...

. This poem is inspired by a column in The Epoch Times written by John Falce, entitled “The Experience of Freedom” The rugged beauty of our land’s terrain Is varied, airy, beautiful, and wide, Reflecting freedom. This, our fruited plain, Is something in which we should all take pride. Americans...

. The Best and Worst of Times “It was the best of times, it was …” but how Can anyone forget those words once pearled By Dickens so very long ago; and now, Do we ourselves not live in such a world? Don’t we have the best of everything: Appliances,...

. She is not a she in the Silver State. Never shall be. In the bones of her heart He will ever be he, unwombed by fate, Crafted by lies, makeup, the surgeon's art... __A petal falls, a stem is cut, a flower __And a bee; weep, no honey sweets...

. From the Bay of Naples To Titus Caesar and the Senate, Hail! Gaius Pliny brings you news most dire From Naples where your frightened people quail; Vesuvius has turned to molten fire! Pompeii is buried. Other towns as well, With countless Romans bloodied, lost or dead. I, across the...

Reviewed Book: Light In the Darkness—The Poetry of Peter Hartley, Dunecrest Press, 2021. by James A. Tweedie Peter Hartley writes poems. Good poems. Poems that sing, dance, and soar with the rhyme and rhythm of formal, classical verse. Poems that open our eyes to see the world in new and...

. Hunter Biden, New Millennial American Painter “It’s Generic Post Zombie Formalism Illustration”  ---Jerry Saltz “a…vaguely psychedelic vibe…Tomaselli…for dermatologist waiting rooms” —Scott Indrisek by Red Was Iceblue He used the N-word in iMessage conversations with his lawyer—Hunter Biden is an artist full of pith. In fall, a New York exhibition...

. Amber Song I come from amber, Baltic gold, A gem but not a stone, And not a thousand ages old, A girl from pine sap grown, When fully cured, of warm physique And vibrant to the touch, A little sunshine called in Greek, Electron, for I clutch Fair living...

. June in memory of Johnny Cash (1932--2003) Johnny was no average guy, __The troubled man in black. His life, by evil, went awry, __And loving brought it back. The radio and Mama’s hymns __Filled up his youthful heart. Jack’s accident and Daddy’s whims __Then tore his heart apart. At...

. In present, past and future, My parrot’s quite a moocher. She’ll eat whatever suits her __No matter whose it is. If what you’re eating tempts her, There’s nothing that preempts her From thinking that it’s meant for __Her own aperitif. Or if her fellow parrot Is munching on a...

. The roar of battle rends the moonlit skyWith distant thunder as of cannons booming.And bursting, crashing, popping salvos flyAbove the roar, the whirr of rockets zooming. The din deceives, for when it yields to sightA fire-dance fills the sky whose salvo joltsBlithe, awestruck smiles to gasps of sheer delightThat...

. Do you know as twilight gleams with showers; Fluorescent flowers, that rocket-red-glare flare, Wowing with their pyrotechnic powers That bloom then boom like bombs that burst in air And spangle white hot stars across the beach, That liberty is slipping out of reach? Do you know as hotdogs spit and sizzle And English Kings...

. The Future's Illumined by the Deeds of the Past inspired by a quote from Alexis de Tocqueville The future’s illumined by deeds of the past. Without history into darkness we’re cast To walk aimlessly, to suffer and bleed, To never again be the land of the freed. Our liberty...

. Nothing’s had by show of fear, When another way is clear: Courage to pursue the best When one’s met with Nature’s test. Can one sell a good or skill Fighting hard and oft uphill? Does one have the kind of heart To endure a rocky start? Can one shine...

. On Death and Life not by John Milton Ere Death’s foul fetters drag me to my tombAs fodder for the very maw of hell,Should not my weary, failing soul rebelAnd seek release from sin’s eternal doom? For didst not Eden’s God deign to presumeTo breathe eternal life into the shellOf...

Fires of Heaven, published by Shanti Arts, 2020, can be purchased here. by James Sale James B. Nicola is one of America’s brightest poetry stars. His poetry is restless, searching, and soaring. There is, perhaps, no overarching "poetics," except to the pragmatic, which works; in other words, Nicola is not...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlTisI_HSgw . The Head of Health and Human Services after W.S. Gilbert’s “I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General” We are the very humble head of Health and Human Services, We run a huge department rich in happy, helpful purposes. We champion the charity, so noble,...

. What’s In a Name? Useless Loop is a small town in Western Australia. Nevertire and Come By Chance are both located in the state of New South Wales, Australia. There’s a place I yearn to live in, before health and vigour give in— It’s a town quite like no...

. Ferdinand the Freestyler Angela Jackson is the Poet Laureate of Illinois and Jacqueline Jackson is a poet frequently published by Illinois Times. As I sit here chillin' and relaxin',There's some questions I need to be askin':Is the world upside down? Do I smile when I frown?Are those "poems"  by Angela Jackson?...

. The Carnelian Ring: A Still-Life Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden. —T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton I think of a walled garden, graced with trees:Magnolia, fig, and cherry, while grapevines(Just pruned enough to be under control)Intertwine with...

. A teardrop's such a little thing, __and yet its burden varies depending on the weight of the __emotions that it carries. One's tears of joy are very light, __yet tears of grief are heavy. And tears of love forever lost __can break a strong heart's levee. Those tiny drops...

. Ill Wind The wind, no friend, assaults us so unkindly And suffers nothing to abate its force, Though boys who fly their kites adore it blindly, As if it were a deity from Norse Mythology.  For those of us who plow The earth, its presence is a daunting nuisance...

. A Sign of the Spirit Poet’s note: These heroic couplets paraphrase the conclusion of a recent sermon for which the preacher, Father Francis Gloudeman, was expelled by Bishop Alberto Rojas of San Bernardino, California, from a church where he had assisted pastors for more than 20 years. One sign...