Poetry

. An Update for Dylan Thomas’s Aunt "Fie on you, aunt! I’ll show you how To elevate your middle brow, And how to scale and see the sights From Modernist Parnassian heights." —Dylan Thomas, “A Letter to my Aunt Discussing the Correct Approach to Modern Poetry” Your nephew Dylan once...

. Time and Place He gave me his coat once in Dublin At dusk in a damp, chilly draft. We spoke of those old Irish writers--- Just where had they mastered their craft? Did Wilde wield his pen in Dun Laoghaire While pausing beside the cold sea, Or did he...

. Soldier of the Rising Sun Date/Location: February 19, 1974---Uninhabited jungle, Lubang Island in the northern Philippines. The matter: Believing that Japan is still fighting World War II almost 30 years after its defeat, Japanese soldier Hiroo Onoda has not surrendered. However, he senses the winds of change in the...

. Double Rondel for Pentecost Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! O fire that warms my soul, You burn within to turn my love heart-whole, And burst beyond as fervor unsuppressed. Celestial flame, my most delightful guest, Inspire me as a temple you control. Dispel my darkness, radiant aureole, Refine my gold...

. On Twenty Years of YouTube Dull dinner party video clips unshared shaped YouTube’s genesis, or so it’s claimed. Yet others say, when Janet Jackson bared a nipple, that a co-creator aimed to see if it was accidentally flashed. His curiosity was not assuaged--- by old technology his hopes were...

. Auntie Barb ---a pantoum She cuts the cheats and charmers to the quick—Her tongue will skin a scoundrel in a wink.She’ll scupper every swindler’s slickest trickBefore the scoffers have a chance to blink. Her tongue will skin a scoundrel in a wink.Acerbic quips will shrink the overblown.Before the scoffers...

. The Legend of Zhong Kui Zhong Kui is pronounced like “Jong Quay” One dark and dour winter day His mother sent her son Zhong Kui Along with his good friend, Du Ping To take exams held by the King. Zhong Kui, a large and ugly lad, had bulging eyes,...

. Roads of Potter County Finally Spring has come north here---Always my favorite time of year.Potter will tease you in some way---Tomorrow might be a snowy day. Instead there came the green of grass,The white of snow its height surpassed.I rode and mowed without a pain,Across the lawn I would...

. In Urbe Hortus ---June afternoon in the South Garden of the Art Institute of Chicago Hard stone and brick, cold glass and steel Shrink behind the canopy Of intertwining leafy boughs Sprawling from each vine-wrapped tree; The roar of engines, rush of traffic, Clamor of the roiling crowd, Beyond...

. My Fairytale You could be my Cinderella _I danced with at the ball. You’re the one I’m looking for _Since you first fled the hall. You could be in sleep awaiting _Like the poisoned Snow White. You may see me as Prince Charming— _An antidote to night. You could...

. In Her Fair Foundry, Nature Forges Art by Claude Gaspar Bachet de Meziriac (1581-1638) translated from French by Josh Mitteldorf In her fair foundry, Nature forges art, Divinity of beauty knows no peer. The orbs of stars and planets we hold dear Have burned their disks upon our eyes...

. Lost Ark ---upon reading of the hunt for the Ark of the Covenant It used to be, a life ago, that fear caused me to lift my hands to hide my sight when Raiders’ climax was on screen—to peer at wonders shouldn’t be considered trite. As wisdom starts with...

. Since You’ve Been at My Side ---a villanelle Embraced by love, since you’ve been at my sideI’ve found the strength to hope for better days,As if uplifted by a rising tide. When feeling lost, with you my faithful guide,I’ve found my way through detours and delaysEmbraced by love, since...

. To a Virginia Bluebell You nod to me across the trail That runs before my garden seat. With clustered bells of blue you greet My visit with a subtle peal. You wave your frolic fans of green So gaily, as if you had met Some kinsman or awaited yet...

. Still Life of a Bouquet Seems wrong to me that flowers die, A live display of borrowed time, To see them bloom from beaming buds To threadbare bones cut off from blood. Those sharp-set stems, sturdy, stoic Wean from will, though still heroic Fragrant flames of fuchsia flutter, Blushing...

. Folk Heroes We’re told to laud our new folk heroes, but they’re made up by woke zeroes. always stirring up commotion led, not by facts, but by emotion. MS13 will dismember, all except for one lone member, who the mainstream news reported was too good to be deported. His...

. Frivolity from Quality Her works of elegance and style create frivolity, When book producers cluelessly reject such quality. But witless word her work is “not the right fit” holds no slight, Their dreadful publications prove ironically they’re right. . . Memories The million lovely things I’ve said--- Most memories...

. The Institute of Peace: Constitution Avenue, N.E. The Institute of Peace looks down on LincolnFrom high atop her perch on Constitution.She has the hollow belly of a beast.She yearns to eat the people piece by piece.She spreads a sharp aluminum of wingsOver a nation that should fear the thing.The...

. A Walk in Solitude I strolled a path in solitude As snow and frosty winds renewed. The night was giving way to light When I beheld a startling sight: There was a figure up ahead Whose twisted shape invited dread. Its form was cloaked in falling snow, Which by...

. Song of the Heron by Ueda Bin (after the French of Emile Verhaeren) translated from Japanese by Yoshikaze Kawakami By the bleak golden waters, Where the water lilies bloom, The heron slowly hovers, And sends its shade of gloom. The shadows on the pond Are spread like robes and...

. A Taste of Northern New England I’ll never feel at home in Robert Frost’s Vermont—too many deconstructed walls, And far too many melancholy falls That adumbrate a host of tragic costs Come winter. Nonetheless, I’d rather be Up there than ever have to live in some New Hampshire version...

. Forsythia Fading ---after Robert Frost and A.E. Housman Green leaves push yellow blooms away. Bold colors leave, their lives an hour Compared with green things’ lengthened day. It’s true that nothing gold can stay. Late April, maybe early May, Pink blossoms drop, no more to flower, Upon the lawn....

. On a Raging Storm Storms raged in the eastern U.S. in Spring of 2019. Is it a freak of summer or the norm? A gale, a blast, a squall is roaring past. In wrath that cuts and claws, the raging storm Leaves in its wake select debris amassed To...

. Ten Pennies Per Paper Poppy ---a childhood memory of Memorial Day Ten pennies per paper poppy I helped my mother sell We sold some fifty poppies ---She thought we did quite well. Pretty paper poppies For soldiers who passed away. They had a smell of honor On our Memorial...

. A Waltz of Longing In the heat of the day, we begin With a glance and a breath, cheek to chin. Though our steps misalign, still we glide With a tremble of flame in our stride. It’s a perilous waltz that we turn, And in red and in gold,...

. The Genesis Wind ---written in the wake of Hurricane Milton I close my eyes to better gauge the gusting wind. It howls and tantrums hard against the metal shutters And bends the flailing palms and scrub oaks. Then I find It deadens into ghastly silence. My heart flutters Within...

. Kissing Cousin I see her every two years, usuallyWhen someone dies or marries. And we kissAs if we were old lovers, passionately,Just as a silly spoof. She says I missThese hot encounters! Prudish maiden auntsAre duly scandalized, and start to talk.I say Now ladies, I’ve kept on my pants—When...

. Wedding Night by Christine de Pisan (1364--c. 1430)translated by Margaret Coats A sweet supremacy marks marriage;I prove it from experience.I have a husband good and sage,Bestowed through God’s great providence;Praised be His saving diligence!This holy state serves to excelAll treasures of benevolence,For sure, my sweet one loves me well....

. What the Caterpillar Calls the End ---for those who are becoming The light grew dim, the air grew still, The green world closed, the leaf went chill. “I am undone,” the small voice cried, Wrapped in a thread the dusk supplied. No sky, no sun, no place to flee;...

. The Dyer’s Second Tale---A Medieval Heist Here beginneth the Dyer’s Second Tale . Part I The Third Crusade had reached its bloody height,And all throughout the Holy Land the mightOf European soldiery held sway.I helped to keep the Saracens at bayWith Richard’s troops, apprenticed as a squireTo Shaun de...

. Sonnet XIII On days you do not need my sound embrace, When tenderness and warmth envelop you And Fortune shines upon your amber face And suffering and sorrow are but few, I wonder what your mind then does with me? From the shore the grey tide pulls away; Of...

. Sound and Fury . I. Of Farcical Requital He craved the slavish praise his patter wooed. His slick, linguistic syrup charmed the ear Of she who shunned the candor of the crude--- A fellow fox who held his fawning dear. Her honey-butter coos appeased his need For piffle-fizzing frissons...

. The Noble Train of Artillery ---from Legends of Liberty Volume 3 The cold, gray dawn illuminated flakes Of snow dusting an elevated hill Where a falling star had crashed, between two lakes: Fort Carillon, still sharp enough to kill With its five points, coated in frost and twinkling. Nearby,...

. Know Your Place __“Know your place!” In grammar school, that stung like mace.“To the corner!”—my timeout place. __“Know your place.” On my first date, with pimpled face,I never even reached first base. __“Know your place.” Now I craft poems, surely first rate!An editor wrote, “Do erase:Your poems plod like...

. Apollo, Mnemosyne, and Poetry Chapter 9 from Gods, Heroes and Us (Bruges Group, May, 2025) by James Sale Our last chapter discussed the imperative for distinguishing between Truth (Veritas) and Falsehood (Mendacium), and how in our modern, digital era this is becoming increasingly difficult. Also, we talked about a shift...

. Spring Has Sprung Spring has sprung. It has begun--- _Birds nesting in the tree. It’s warm again. The cackling hen _Can go outside to pee. Spring has sprung. It’s time for fun. _New flowers bloom each day. The cow awaits by the barn gates _Where I can make her...

. The Poppy I walk a poppy universe, I rattle the hourglass’s isles, Where time slows down and turns to hope And I’m a brush that paints for miles. I balance on a single finger; At first all’s white and undefiled. From star to star I jump alone Only to...

. Young Catherine’s Vision ---on St. Catherine of Siena Invested with the Dominican Habit by Giovanni di Paola A maiden kneels on gray da Torre stone. Save for a crucifix, the room is bare. Her thighs seem formed of otherworldly bone; her anorexic body drifts on air. As if in...

. Sally  November rains brought to our basement door From the woods some pleading, needy eyes Staring from a fur mass, soaking wet. Our catless home (about to be no more) Welcomed her and tended to her cries. By Providence we had ourselves a pet. I don’t recall why Sally...

. Today Like Yesterday by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (1836-1870) translated by Paul Burgess Today like yesterday, tomorrow like today: ___A sky of only grays, An endless horizon that goes on, changeless, dull, ___The same across the days; The heart's repeated mindless pounding, like machines' ___Insistent pulsing beep; A brain lethargic...