Poetry

. . Hope What task be done, you thought was not?What asked and sought, forgot, was wrought?What strain was set against a blow?As gain unfettered, bettered, lo, The frost was last before the sun;What once was lost recast as won. . . The Moment “And I knew just as surely,...

By Sandeep Kumar Mishra and Evan Mantyk English poetry has a rich history dating back at least 1,400 years. Looking at poetry today, it is easy to get trapped into thinking that the flurry of poetic movements of the last one hundred years or so are incredibly important and represent...

Note: The brown-headed cowbird, Molothrus ater, rather than raise its own young, lays its eggs in the nests of other birds, which may or may not accept them or the nestlings that emerge from them.   How long it took to think of such! Since mothering has proved too much, My next egg goes...

Verification What further evidence will now be needed to assure Us that behind the strictly physical there’s something more, And that the natural world is clearly ordered from above, Than seeing how the normal parent cannot help but love A child?  Though some may raise the specter of “the selfish gene,”...

  "For even in the beginning, when arrogant giants were perishing, the hope of the world took refuge on a raft … for blessed is the wood by which righteousness comes."  – Wisdom of Solomon, 14.6 They’re at it now: hear them – sabres rattle, And hush – the whoosh...

Posting atop the hill beyond the field in rain so thick he barely saw the bodies, the General tilted back his hat and sat, shaking his head. His horse shifted a foot and whinnied, a grazing wound across its haunch still oozing blood, an equine service stripe its tail would...

. Visiting the Ruins of Tintagel Castle I wander through a forest deep __in Cornish countryside And think I see some elves asleep __And giants run to hide. The branches gnarled like magic wands, __Green velvet moss on trees, The ivy cloaks around the ponds, __Soft rocks bejewel the streams. I...

. Sally Cook is both a poet and a painter residing in upstate New York. In addition to the Society of Classical Poets, her poems have also appeared in Blue Unicorn, First Things, Chronicles, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, TRINACRIA, and other electronic and print journals....

Spring was near now Spring’s here, come to waken all the flowers and to welcome April showers. Spring was near now Spring’s here. The grass is green as green can be and the blossoms are blooming in the apple tree. Spring was near, now Spring’s here. A little bird has...

If Romeo Had Received the Letter Part I Romeo (in the catacomb, lying down beside Juliet) The friar’s note said: “Romeo she will wake.” Thus here I am now with my life at stake. You’ll resurrect? Or will the potion err? the anesthesia taken on a dare, a hope that...

Blue Star Mama painted calm and clouded landscapes Before she wed, blue-green and grassy shapes, But these went by the board just after she Jumped off into the matrimonial sea. Later, Bach rocked the house and Chopin too, For as we grew up, that was what she’d do, Bringing us...

I Watch the Sun I watch the sun, its trek, across the sky. The shadow too to see how it reacts. When light steps forth, the shadow it gets shy. Then shadow finds its strength when light contracts. A quiet little fight the two ensue. He reaches out his arm...

  Boston Public Garden On Boston Public Garden's willowed shorebank, two little girls are feeding ducks: they prance from beak to beak, arms arcing past their foreheads to farther thrust their crusts. They feel, perchance, how full the cupboards of their lives are stocked: so full they're called to fling...

By Evan Mantyk In the sea of free verse, drifting downward into the bottomless whirlpool of aesthetic relativism, it is hard to not get lost; but poet, editor, and professor Joseph S. Salemi seems to have found the other shore. He has stood firm on the bedrock of rhyme and meter...

By Cid Wa'eeb El Sur "The end is where we start from." —T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets, Little Gidding Upon the heels of an Idlib chemical attack, about five dozen Tomahawks were hurled back to back. Like giant, hornet-robots hissing with their striking bombs, they targeted Shayrat-Base tarmacs, depots, planes—near...

  “Doing what deserves to be written, writing what deserves to be read, living to make the world a happier place.” That's what Pliny the Elder said. He quoted “In Vino Veritas,” from some older, and wiser, gent, but he put it in one of his gardening books, and so...

White Wolf, Black Wolf: A Cherokee Story A trijan refrain Inside you lives a wolf of white— of patience, peace and love. He is forgiveness, hope and light; a blessing from above. This wolf of white the world will see through all the good he brings to thee. _____This wolf...

  One Near-Death Experience at the Royal Bournemouth Hospital To be dazed out, phased out, near to dying In a hospital bed Somewhere in a street near you, Pain excessive, crying, Eyes blank at blank ceiling staring ahead And nothing, nothing to do. Only night comes on, but what matter?...

After E. T. A. Hoffman "Only connect..." E. M. Forster, Howard's End By Ewald E. Eisbruc The inner structure of the movements, working joint by joint, the way they all are linked together, toward a single point, th' interrelation of main themes, producing unity, beteem each listener to reach a new...

We Forget How quickly we forget the people killed, Millions slaughtered to get a lie fulfilled. All those Russians in the frozen gulag, All those Chinese, dead, without epilogue, All those hearts, for grand fantasies, stilled… The same ideas which now make students thrilled Inspired other men to the death...

Divided into easy to engage and topical categories such as Beauty, Humor, Anti-Communism, and The Environment, the 2017 Journal features selected poetry, essays, and translations from the Society’s last 12 months. Purchase online here. Below are the featured poets in the Journal in alphabetical order:   Ahern, Edward Anderson, C.B. Blanchard,...

  Oak tree like a gnarled arthritic hand jutting into the sky black and bent knobby knuckles, twisted swirls and burls appearing ancient, energy spent Dry leaves are sparse, barely hanging on and are missing in many places Branches and twigs like a skeleton which ghostly tule fog soon erases...

Sleep, lying in dry river beds Sold rapidly, buy the shore banks Brains washed from corporate heads Dried and neatly styled on fuel tanks Rippled, ragged breaths of ashen air Smog saturated sludge and stench Precipitations drought and bare Floating plastic water bottles’ island’s quench External thermostat control is diplomatic Hemisphere and...

  To me, to rhyme— It is sublime To others But a waste of time To match the sounds Of words, they say Promotes an Aural truth-decay To them I say To rhyme’s the way! To make the words Run, jump, and play Forget the rest To rhyme’s the best!...

The Theater of the Bush To westward the sun seeks a comfort nocturnal, Her warmth slipping under the covers ahead; And daylight soon passes the threshold eternal, Turns on the night-light and settles in bed. Awakens from slumber those creatures encumbered By prisons of sunlight and tethers of day. Possums...

. . Approaching Spring Above the mountain, under the sky, Canadian Geese, you hear their cry, Over the mountain, hear them sing, Man and Wife, approaching Spring. . . Charge to Orion Gird thy blade and tighten belt Spurred unswayed by heights not felt Betelgeuse and Rigel fire Nimble Lepus;...

  Are the dead at peace in the ground? wrapped in loam, slow dissolving to earth. Is the mother at peace in travail, wracked apart that a child might be born? Does a man find peace as he toils for a cause, half around the world's girth? Were the martrys...

  Spring is Coming From naked trees, droplets of dew, Drips like tears onto my upturned face. Everything is bleak, nothing new. No creation feels like outer space. Hear ye, hear ye, everyone come. What, a spot of bright green on that tree? Although it’s as small as a crumb,...

By Basil Drew Eceu At least four people have been killed and forty injured in a terrorist attack in London in the afternoon. Here near the cradle of great Parliament'ry government, a cruel terrorist went mad upon the hard cement. He rammed, and slammed, his car into the people that...

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins Poetry has been an integral component of Welsh culture for centuries. Indeed, the Welsh word “bardd” (poet) has been traced back to 100 B.C. Depending on their skills, Welsh poets held one of three official ranks, and earning the designation of “chief poet” was a high...

A Pantoum The wind, it sings through trees of pine The breeze, it sweeps my senses clear This day shines bright, this day shines fine These dunes are bringing heaven near. The breeze, it sweeps my senses clear Awakened eyes view vibrant hues These dunes are bringing heaven near The...

How much wheat can a woodchuck eat? Or cabbage, carrots, and peas, Spinach, parsley, peppers, and kale, Tomatoes, lettuce, n’ beans? What if he brings his family n’ friends? A party they will throw! So pack your bag and grab your hat— It’s off to market you go!   Connie...

The Rocky Mountain Pines Written in Rhymed couplets of Anapestic Tetrameter. In the mountains or plains, with the pine in the air, I’ll awake to the sun with a chill to compare. When I hike up a hill, with a heart full of gloom, And the trail is lined by...

By James Sale There are nine Muses of poetry, daughters of Zeus or some say Apollo, and the Titaness, Mnenosyne, goddess of memory, past and future. And of these nine the most important is Kalliope, she of the Lovely Voice, and the muse of epic poetry; and she is considered...

Dancer the arch of her collarbone a bridge, her legs a throne, the clean and simple lines of her body free of confines. she dances, arms akimbo, hair flowing, and I know that she belongs to the wind, to breathe the free air, skin pale and wide like the sky,...

  Saint Patrick was a green alien, He came from other parts. He was not a native Irishman But was taken to their hearts. On oceans of pre-destiny He made a Christian start With a sense of heaven’s purity And faith in his small part. He sailed the sea on...

  Celestial Teevee Something that’s always puzzled me: Does the Creator watch us on celestial teevee the way we watch Modern Family? If so, can He (She? It?) switch channels? (To other worlds, galactic variety shows?) When does He get up for beer and pretzels, since there are (I assume)...

By Evan Mantyk Last year, the College Board released a significantly redesigned Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT). The SAT is used by millions of student applicants each year to gain admission to U.S. colleges and universities. The redesign brought the SAT closer to its counterpart, the other major U.S. college-admissions test, the...

Cold and Uncertain shaken and stirred; Flying through clouds so quickly they’re blurred. Hold, comfort and buckle me in; Make us trust in safety again. Sitting armed with a passport and strapped with hopes from the past; Remembering the memories which are certain to last. Then optimistic voices, so assuring...

  Songbirds Sing (Triolet Sonnet) As songbirds sing with joy of spring, unfolding blossoms show their hues. From my front porch the wind chimes ring as songbirds sing with joy of spring. Fresh colors cast on ev’rything— in shades of yellows, reds, and blues. As songbirds sing with joy of...