Great Poets

Inspired by the Ashland, Oregon, Shakespeare Festival Narrator: William Shakespeare—Shakspere? Shaksper? Shakespear? Shackespeare? Shake-and-Bake-speare?—died but did not Go to heaven. Sent instead to town called Ashland where, in purgatorial shame, Was forced to spend eternity in watching Every play that bore his name replayed, Replayed and played again in time-looped glory;...

By Joshua Philipp The Italian poet Dante Alighieri is best known for his journey into hell, purgatory, and heaven which he told of in his "Divine Comedy." But before he took that journey, he took a very different, although in some ways very similar, journey into the world of longing,...

Penelope’s Postscript Uncounted days, wrung dry of tears— Lost wanderers do not return: So much for the departed years. Heap up my mangled hopes and fears, Leave Ithaka to mock and spurn Uncounted days. Wrung dry of tears I shut from my importuned ears The suitors’ pleas. How could I...

Ephemeral Constant With hued music, beautified page. His spheres were thinner than gossamer, Only to beauty, did Keats defer. Was omni-sensory, ahead of his age, Gifted synesthete; few could gauge. Lines between realities could he blur, With Psyche, or nightingale easily confer. Complex were stanzas, of youthful sage. ‘Cockney’ image...

By Wilbur Dee Case One of the most unlikely poems of the Modernist period is that by Robert Frost: "The Pasture." It is unlikely for many reasons. First, it seems more like a Romantic lyric, i.e., one hundred years too late, because of its rural depiction and its simple, formal...

by Evan Mantyk WHAT DOES THE classic Chinese story Journey to the West have to do with William Shakespeare’s classic play Hamlet? A lot it turns out. Both Hamlet and Journey to the West were written in the late 16th century, one in China and the other in England. Both rely heavily on poetry. Both also are...

By Conan Milner | The Epoch Times For centuries, the plays of William Shakespeare have been celebrated for their larger-than-life storytelling and rhythmic language. Now the Bard’s work is being studied as a way to help children overcome challenges associated with autism. Kelly Hunter, an actress with the Royal Shakespeare Theatre...

By Douglas Thornton "And lo I lie between the sun and thee" (Venus and Adonis; line 194) To see the poet in the act of composition, to hear his words tell not only the story, but with imaginative zeal, recount the inner movements of his life, makes prejudice relax, and...

Original Shakespeare followed by imitation.   Sonnet 49 Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Called to that audit by advis'd respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, And...

By Wilbur Dee Case | Edited by Kent Van May Now I can see why T.S. Eliot disliked Edgar Allan Poe's verse; Eliot was trying to write a different kind of poetry; and it is no surprise that, for Eliot, Poe was no kindred spirit. Yet it was unwise for Eliot...

William Shakespeare is believed to have died on April 23, 1616. Post your commemorative poems in the comments section or email to [email protected]. Remembering Shakespeare By Dusty Grein The Bard of Avon gave us many gifts. An actor, true, but he was so much more; A poet of renown and...

By Dusty Grein and Evan Mantyk “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe remains one of the English language’s most popular and influential poems since it was written in 1845. Much of this was Poe’s own doing, as he performed it quite frequently, and wrote many essays and commentaries on it...

Inspired by real events in China   Not that long ago in China, in a labor camp confined a Year or longer, I was sitting, making for a U.S. store Christmas tree lights meant for hanging, when there came an awful banging Like a phantom’s chains’ loud clanging—angling through the...

  A Fifteen-Year-Old's Response to Frost "This 'pome' don't make NO sense! What junk!" the scowling students muttered. "Two roads in the woods!" one hissed. "Such bunk"-- opinions rudely uttered. I quelled the urge to hurl my book. I said, "Can't you surmise what they might mean? Let's take a...

for E.E. Club Saw Reid   I. Priam, Returning to the Ramparts He’d never say it to my face and yet I sense that Hector senses I’m washed up: too old, too soft. Not that he is the pup that sees for the first time his dad beset with something...

Shakespeare Wrote Shakespeare Some say that Shakespeare didn’t write The many works that bear his name; But surely if that were the case, A rival would have blown his game...   Inner Beauty My wife was born without her eyes; She cannot love her pretty face, Yet knows her inner...

In Rembrandt's scene of 1653, Aristotle Contemplating a Bust of Homer, there is much that we can see amidst that musty sett(l)ing of gold dust that balances upon the old and new, upon the dark and light, upon the dead and living, giving forth beams of the true and glimmerings...

From Dante, to Beatrice In your father’s garden we first met, a pair in exile, two children playing without a care, in our shared exile. You were eight, I, nine, you in crimson and I blind to all else but the fall of your fair hair, from my exile. For...

The Trojan War has finished its long course. Achaeans won by sneaking past the vaulting walls As if they were a gift: a wooden horse. A decade done, at last the city falls! And yet the riches found were not it all, Along with war, there came a great  resource...

My Love, Penelope My love, Penelope, I'm incomplete– You are not here, and I feel so alone; Love is a chore, without you there's no heat, Only dust, mere air, for you're my blood and bone. Victory brings me riches, glory and slaves, Each night a bacchanalia, all I've desired...

  I This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven’s eternal King, Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his...

On the shores of Gitche Gumee, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood Nokomis, the old woman, Pointing with her finger westward, O'er the water pointing westward, To the purple clouds of sunset.     Fiercely the red sun descending Burned his way along the heavens, Set the sky on fire behind him, As...

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 beginning of the first World...

. The Tyger Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what...