Beauty

The Climber inspired by and dedicated to Chris Bonington and my erstwhile heroes Don Whillans and Dougal Haston He has conquered crags and chimneys Only eagles would have seen And the frozen lofty kingdoms Where the blizzard reigns supreme He has traversed mighty mountains Through the rockfall and the scree...

  At the Cemetery “Drowned together while playing with a sled on the ice of the Saw Mill Pond at Kensico. Dec. 5, 1871.” ---gravestone inscription She pauses here, what has been done? One stone in fact, yet three in one And there beneath, what does that say? Upon her...

Solemn Silent Soldiers Rest by Roy E. Peterson, written May 22, 2020 Solemn, silent soldiers rest Beneath the green earth’s sheltering breast. The bodies that were once in pain Became the ghost Corps of the slain. Mothers and fathers teary-eyed Remember the son or daughter who died. They pray and...

  17 March 2019 When bleeds the heart with heartache harsh and deep, And coiling loins are toiling, boiling hot, And tears descend across the landscape steep, Cascading in their anguish, frail and fraught With senseless queries gathered in a heap, I know not what my Father’s will has wrought....

  Oh, What Is Prayer? Oh, what is prayer? Is it a mystery, that bridges earth and heaven in a cry, that reaches to the infinite? A sigh, A groan, a whisper, tears that come to be admixed from faith and high anxiety or deep recesses of the soul. Whereby...

by Sultana Raza In April 1820, Keats was already aware that he had tuberculosis, and in spring of that year, he was experiencing fever, a bad chest, and lots of anxiety, specially about not being able to finish his poems, and that he would remain obscure. He’d previously nursed and...

Hummingbird Communion I watch them play at dawn of day, as molten gold is splashed their way, on feathers flecked with flashing green and rubies fused in morning’s beam, where sleepers dream and seekers pray. My sabbath aerial display, my seraphim sky-high ballet, means while the worshippers convene I watch...

Clarity and Obscurity Part III Read Part I: The Essences of Classicism and Modernism Compared Read Part II: "Concrete" Poetry and the Fall of Metaphor by Adam Sedia Modernism produces obscure poetry because it denies the existence of absolute truth. Without a fundamental truth to reveal, poetry is relegated to...

  O do not chasten me with tales of fine __Fresh wells of wisdom and of warriors bold, __Or sacred veins of Ethiopian gold, Your more than oracles or muses nine, For I've drunk deep of a more potent wine __That welcomes all into its bounteous fold, __Where worlds abundant,...

  New York poet Joe Tessitore challenges poets to begin a poem with these words:   My country used to be...   Post your poem in the comments section below. (Poems should be metered.)

all poems by Bruce Dale Wise   The Pilot by Air Weelbed Suc I saw him flying overhead, a pilot in a plane, and looking down, he gazed upon the anguish and the pain. Although I saw compassion in his eyes, as he flew on, he still prepared to launch...

  https://youtu.be/bYg-ITiEEyM   "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud," also known as "Daffodils," the poem by former British Poet Laureate William Wordsworth (1770-1850) read by the President of The Society of Classical Poets, Evan Mantyk, and filmed by Katy Mantyk on May 10, 2020, Mother's Day.     Daffodils, or...

The Argument: The Poet, having escaped the HellWard of European and corrupt politicians, emerges into the penultimate HellWard depth where he, with his guide, Dante, meets the Poetasters from America and Britain. These lost souls have denied Apollo and the real meaning and purpose of poetry. They have, thus, have...

St. Piran (Feast Day: March 5) A rhupunt Irish heathens, Unbelieving, Strapped poor Piran To a stone then Rolled him over. A cliff! Cut-throats They came to gloat. Though stones don’t float This one turned boat, Sea-borne rover. What had been all A rough sea squall At God’s hand palled...

  In the midst of free-verse critics’ Smug, inchoate analytics __Seasoned with self-righteous pedantry, There are poets who are striving To achieve success reviving __Classical and formal poetry. Hail the Muse of Mount Parnassus! Apuleius’ Golden Ass is __Overshadowed by Homeric verse. Celebrate the works of Horace, Aeschylus and Grecian...

  Spring Snow Tyrant Winter reaches __Beyond its frozen tomb, Dares cast its icy mantle __On bud and crocus-bloom. Long it reigned unchallenged __In dark and cold and ice; Thwarted now, it hurls back __Last volleys as it flies. Spent, it fails to muster __Its once-destroying blast; Failing snows fall...

Deep Regrets Dedicated to the memory of the 118 men of the Russian submarine Kursk, which exploded and sank in the Barents Sea on August 12th 2000. The protocols of men of power; Agendas passed in hiding. Procrastination steals the hour, Now there is none abiding. Unseen, forsaken in the...

  The Onus of Vernal Duty Surrounding fields and woods unfreeze, The air once more is filled with light, As springtime’s blanket amnesties Dispel the winter’s cheerless night. So long you’ve waited for reprieve, That you can barely trust your senses And therefore tend to disbelieve The visions flashing through...

  Donald J. Trump They laugh at him and sneer as if his lack Of faith in modernism’s unholy gods Can justify each Philistine attack And drown out facts with which they are at odds. Yet from their barbs he fashions Aaron’s rods That gobble up the hatred others feel...

  It takes patience to learn patience; It takes courage to be brave. One must first find mental freedom To no longer be a slave. Only faith can make us faithful; Truth alone can make us true. Life must vitalize our living, Or we die before we’re through. We must...

  Vermont in April doesn’t seem to know quite how to dress. She thinks she ought to wear bright, flowery things, and yet, she cannot tear herself away from all the clothes that go with winter. Browns and grays become her so, those short, dark days. She knows she must...

We meet Diomedes, the Greek hero of Troy, trapped in a flame with Odysseus in Canto 26 of Dante’s Inferno. Odysseus speaks but Diomedes remains silent. Here, ironically, he speaks through his presence.   How smoke refused to clear For all his fearful presence; At least smoke knew no fear....

  Winter's Breath The sudden chill of winter's sigh Caresses me when autumn flees. My meager warmth she tries to pry, While planting kisses cold and dry; With icy breath she starts to tease. I'm bundled as I walk along, But still can feel her hands on me. She whispers...

  They march in an imaginary parade, All of the dear ones I have ever known, Relatives, friends, impressively arrayed, Saluting them, I stand here all alone. This is no show of military might, Though in their different ways, they fought for me And should have been more precious in...

  Beyond His Ken based on a true story The plane was in the skies above Beijing When, let us call her Joy, a stewardess With China Eastern Airlines, saw the ring And heard the heartfelt words, and answered, ‘Yes!’ Those near them, who beheld the ad hoc scene So...

  That day a dark, vermillion, winter sky, like a Turner water-colour, was seen reflected in an old pond where, nearby, the poet Basho watched a small, unclean and speckled frog jump in the evening air and meet the water with a gentle plop, an almost soundless splash, a plash...

  For England & St. George In praise let’s raise our flagons to the conqueror of dragons to the Saint who fought for all he thought was fair. Let’s fly our flags and bellow for that bold, courageous fellow with a stomping-monster tale beyond compare. Sent forth in times of...

  Golf My friends love golf so much But I do not share the allure. There’re many other ways for me To function like manure.     It’s Love Last night we watched old videos Our kids were 3 and 4 I told one son about it And he said...

  The statue stands and holds aloft her torch, the Kalahari moon, the Northern Star. A lantern glimmers on a Southern porch; a balefire beacon signals war. These are unbroken shafts of light connecting lands, a structure made of beams and pillars, shining; Across the seas the planks of light...

  Seven skulls sit side-by-side atop the wall of Erringtide. Their salted sockets watch the wide expanse of waves within which hide the devils Marax, sixes each who’d seek to storm the sandy beach and scale the ramparts, rend a breach, the Prince of Erringtide to reach. The skulls, they...

  The empty sonnet frame’s a puzzle box into whose elaborate maze ideas are dropped. They press its walls and work to plot a path through dark till final light appears. Escape demands ideas adapt and bend around slotted bridle angles, on to shelves of lines, be they enjambed or...

  Sonora: The Desert Harsh sunlight beats upon the thirsty land And glares upon the limestone cliffs and sand, While waves of heat rise shimmering, above The parched loam where the great saguaros stand. And perched up high among the spines thereof There broods in camouflage a mother dove, Whose...

The March of Spring O, hear the bold approach of spring, who marches, stamping, blowing! He startles all the birds that sing above the fast streams flowing. They take to wing and soar on high Where white clouds race across the sky. What garish, yes, outlandish dress the spring dons...

  So here he lies as he has lain in state These ninety years in this cathedral crypt At Westminster. We come to venerate The relics of a martyr: his heart, ripped Out of his chest at Tyburn for a priest, Was sewn back in at Cromwell’s stern behest. Four...

  What If My Time What if my time is limited? if all That I have left is perhaps months, not years, All laden with the worries and the fears Surrounding what is death. Can I recall A time when all the cares of life were small, And I would...

  As Alexander rose upon a hill, somewhere east of King Darius’s dust, at once a pure, serene and awful still undoes the man. For conquer all he must, but what is next? What if the field be lost? ---What if the field be lost!? What though the field be...

  Sonnet of the Silent Voice Unbounded power marks a tyrant’s choice: He chains the infants up to keep his throne, Refusing freedom to the silent voice. Thus, he neglects his seeds that were once sown. Adults prevent its birth, to make a slave, With Lust, the master, hearts within...

  The painter and poet Sally Cook has a new exhibition at UB Art Galleries. Because of the current coronavirus pandemic, UB Art Galleries has put the entire exhibition online so that you can actually travel through it and experience it virtually. Click below to visit the exhibit: http://ubartgalleries.buffalo.edu/exhibitions/sally-cook-1960-present/  ...

  Translation by David O'Neil Translator’s note: Piers Plowman is a late medieval allegorical narrative poem, believed to be authored by William Langland, which describes several visions experienced by the poem’s narrator, called Will. The language is Middle English,* but the meter belongs to the poetic tradition of Old English...