Beauty

Where have the roses gone from my garden? Look how those left freeze in cold winter wind; Nothing I can do nor ask for pardon To save the lovely petals as they’re thinned. Here in the kitchen I gaze in dismay, Looking at the sky with kind entreaty; Hoping snowflakes...

Sonnet XLI - Gifts of the Magi A grander throne than Solomon’s of old, Though wrought of rough-hewn wood and winter hay, Received the royal deference of gold From one who watched a star, by night and day. A nobler incense, burning without end, Nor gathered from the bleeding of...

. . Winter Wore a Raiment White Winter wore a raiment white, Checkered blue as snow in shade, As he worked, amid the leaves, In the Autumn golden sheaves, Soon my season’s time will come, Ever cool and never glum, Winter wore his raiment white, Checkered blue he took delight,...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (born February 27, 1807 - died March 24, 1882) was an American poet of the Romantic period. He served as a professor at Harvard University and was an adept linguist, traveling throughout Europe and immersing himself in European culture and poetry, which he emulated in his poetry. Before...

  Lights The shining Santas smile in silver sleighs, With dazzling reindeer poised on roofs, midair; The phosphorescent elves stare in a daze, While shim’ring tinsel hangs from angels’ hair. The flashing lights, the lamps and laser beams Illuminate the buildings everyplace— The lights so bright they blind us in...

  Bemused “Polyhymnia would not lift her veil, All my attempts at sacred poetry failed, Calliope did not lend me her tablet, Epic poetry left me desolate, Terpsichore was sure, I could never dance, Curtly did she say, ‘not a blighted chance’ Her scroll's secret code, Clio wouldn't reveal, History...

  Listen to the voice that speaks within your heart, a whisper set against the roaring tide; softly calls the voice that’s set apart. The world calls loud and clear and smart. But what the world shouts is but a din; listen to the voice that speaks within your heart....

What chilly breeze creates a shudder and crimson leaves begin to flutter down, down like butterflies 'till barren branches reach the skies and herald lonely autumn cries amidst decaying clutter, then winter wends its weary way on through the festive holidays around, round the endless nights in search of precious...

A Rondeau The big corn field was gone today: A machine crouched amid the fray Like a locust after a feast Near the side road facing southeast— Likely to be gone by Sunday. The corn had turned from day to day Yellow-green to deep green array Then the pallor of...

. Vermont A white wood house defines the slope.  The trees Have gone to red and flame.  A field beyond Is spread with grass and granite rocks at ease. This stonewall pattern thinks it holds a pond, But it is free beneath October's sun, At least as free as anything...

  The First Funeral It is with wonder when I think Of Adam, Eve, no childhood grown, Standing before the living God, Alive with language, all words known. It is with wonder, then, to think They could – not taught by human tongue – Speak out and all the world...

  A Christmas Card A distant clang; here comes the heat To chase the chill from hands and feet! A steady hiss and many pings; The song our radiator sings To celebrate this Christmas morn The day that Jesus Christ was born! The windows now we see are dressed With...

  Snow’s candid praise bedecks St. Florian’s Gate As Sobieski passes on his horse. It is the Eve of Christmas, when men wait The changing of the world’s malignant course… Back in the octave of Our Lady’s birth, Whilst he prayed kneeling at Fray Marco’s Mass, The Ottomans yet held...

  https://youtu.be/dVnGlUaitiY   You hear the sound of carols from afar. Bright bulbs and tinsel, cinnamon and cloves. Beyond a hill of snow you see a star. Here you can look at stacks of Christmas trees, buy nuts and raisins, fruit from nearby groves, cards inscribed in gold: "joy, love...

by Annabelle Fuller John Keats (born October 31, 1795 - died February 23, 1821) began life as the son of a stable-owner, and ended it as an unmarried, poor and tuberculosis-ridden young man. Somewhere along the way, he managed to become one of the most beloved poets of the English...

  Sharp lightning stabbed the clouds and pierced a hole that scorched the greening branches down below. Sun, much aggrieved, beamed fingers through, and stole the sparking ashes’ phosphorescent glow. The clouds, distressed at what the lightning did, and wanting to conceal the dreadful sight, built thunderheads to form a...

In Fall I Set a Stone In fall I set a stone upon a stone, As autumn rain dripped tears upon the grave That marks the spot where lie my lover's bones; And wind tossed fallen leaves like rolling waves. A mourning dove atop a nearby tree, Alone in grief,...

  An Ode to the Indian Soldiers ottava rima Be choking chill or burning heat; be rain or sleet; thou're there O soldier brave to save thy brethren sleeping sound inland, sans pain. Thy eyes surveying every crest and cave; the crooked snowy paths and frozen plain; forgot a wink,...

Paperboys lack actual colleagues, but I was a part-time paper boy, and my mother, a part-time colleague. When I’d oversleep, or in bad weather, she’d rescue me from the steep daily grind. “Leave the bike home. I’ll drive, to save time.” That was all; guilt trips were not her way....

By Sam Gilliland The Poisoned Chalice Let he who lips me then beware, My potion’s more than honeyed mead, One sip, I shall your soul ensnare, Death conquers all, so take you heed! It is a foolhardy enterprise to embark upon a venture so obviously doomed to failure that the...

I Keep A Different List My neighbor counts his losses and his gains, but I keep track of raindrops when it rains; he makes note of coins and dollar bills while I am watching ants upon their hills; while he is in the office making money, I go out among...

The Great Living Hell On Communism Under the radar I fly Thru' an ever more darkening sky Thru' the smoke from the volumes that burned Thru' the silence of lessons unlearned Thru' the sound of the shattering glass Thru' the thoughts of the mindless I pass Thru' the dust of the statues that...

When Santa’s sleigh took to the sky, He saw a wonder by him fly: A Chinese Fairy dance on clouds And point to where there gathered crowds; A theater’s lights shone dazzling bright And beckoned him to veer his flight To see the face of those who’d seen The Shen Yun show’s...

  The Buds of Life On Nightly News I saw a sight obscene: A seahorse in embrace with cotton bud, Soon causing me to ask, ‘What does this mean?’ The answer came most clear, with numbing thud - Our oceans have become a rubbish tip For detritus abandoned in the...

  For Bishop Berkeley & for Madman Blake First, the wind; then, the waves; then the shore —but the Mind—yes, the Mind—long before. First, darkness; then, ignition; then the light —but Vision—yes, Vision—long before sight. First, nowhere; then, somewhere; then everywhere —each here—each there—like a visual prayer. First, the past;...

Any treatise claiming critical review of verse, whether in the widest sense, or, as in this case, the result of compressed choice, purely down to the author’s own consideration, I hasten to add, is probably deigned to fail as an intelligent summation of poetry penned by John Keats. That said,...

  Slowly yet steadily the heat starts to soar as the sun’s first rays glimmer in the east sky. With no breeze to cool down the forest floor the temperature reached an all-new high. Nothing stirred in the dry heat of the day and lions lay panting in the shade...

The Morning Muse This time of day the Muses pass As rolling clouds and dewy grass, To see their handouts properly bestowed. How much I’ve felt and ever feel That writhing impulse in me reel When dawn's first grayer hues begin to glow. And if I had the craft to...

Joseph Pulitzer Junior High September 1959 – June 1961 I think we spoke but fifty words, all told. No more than that, and most were just polite— A brief exchange of greetings or a comment On some observed absurdity or joke... The school did not encourage us to talk. Perhaps...

. . What Tolkien Said “...together through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat.” Galadriel, of Celeborn Together we fought the long defeat The loss, the win, but no retreat Embossed and scalded by the fray That cost us all - but took the day. ....

The poetry of Fray Angelico Chavez can be read here. By Joseph Charles MacKenzie Fray Angélico Chávez, O.F.M. (1910-1996) remains the most important poet of New Mexico’s modern history. It is precisely by virtue of this gifted priest, polymath, historian, author, and painter, that we in New Mexico are able...

A Slice of Eden A mango tart broke my heart dark one stormy day because it said I'd be dead if I touched its glaze, & lotus cake made me ache late one luckless night because it cried when I tried taking one small bite, & once when I slyly...

For Joseph Charles MacKenzie Herein lies silence and serenity, Along with untold tales of many men, Mixing mud and straw, soon to be a home, Where wives gave an hundred births dignity, Often joy, tinged with great sadness, and then Blood red roses bowed with bitter aplomb; Outside, the waiting...

  For honor! For valor! The battle stole and won Where up the soul arises down the barrel of a gun The courses set and forces met with destined blood and bones But I, I fear, am fated here to never journey home Tell my wife I love her Send...

  The swollen hill is pregnant with the Spring, A promise of a resurrection day, A warm renewal, life in everything Is bursting forth like perfumed blooms of May And now it will be constant joy to pray To smiling God and look to a pale blue sky And dance...

by Dusty Grein The Man The American poet Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco, CA. He spent his first 40 years mostly unknown, and it wasn’t until after returning to the United States from England—where he had his first two books of poetry published—near the...

  She remembers the first time his hand closed around her fingers, the smooth skin of youth and a slight dampness like when he proposed. He loved her fragrant hand lotion, in truth, and he would inhale the scent off his hands hours later.  Years pass and dry wrinkles form as...

  Narcissus Saw Himself Only Once “Due to the poor quality, high cost, and small size of these ancient glass mirrors, solid metal-mirrors primarily of steel were usually preferred until the late nineteenth century.” ~Wikipedia, “Mirror” I wonder if improvements in the way That mirrors show us beauty in our...

  The birch, the elm, the aging spruce Cannot restrain the restless roots Of saplings drawn to the silent sound Of brother’s heading skyward bound Youthful trees spreading their wings Dropping away childish things Until what was there is no more Like climbing marks on a young lads door  ...

When I speak of history I speak well; I leave behind the past where broken bones Lay scattered on blistering sands to tell Of atrocities that are mostly groans. While you may feel the pain lurking inside With hurt failing any impunity; And browse pages upon pages to ride This...