Beauty

. An Incomplete Account of How Things Are __From where I drift, One hundred meters from the shore, The elemental thunderous roar __That’s falling swift __Is but a sigh That whispers thoughts into my ear: Who am I, and, Why am I here? __The Lord is nigh, __But I admit,...

. And Yet We Wash Our Hands When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, butthat instead an uproar was starting, he took waterand washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I aminnocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is yourresponsibility!” ---Matthew 27:24. We Christians must take action.We...

. Music by Jeff Eardley . Look Homeward, Sweet Afton after Robert Burns Look homeward, Sweet Afton, back to thy green braes, Recalling with pride Britain’s glorious days. Then forward flow strongly, I pray thou restore The gallantry needed to fight one more war. This island of Tennyson, Milton and...

. A Mother’s Day Sonnet I hope you have a happy Mother’s Day And take a moment out to feel the love I’m sending to you there, though faraway, Like kisses raining down from high above, Each one a memory of what you’ve done For me in years that passed...

. Hookerville School Built just before the Civil War, employed till twenty-nine, This one-room school that stands today withstood the test of time. Turn back the clocks to times long passed, so many years ago, Some children trudged a mile to school, through rain and sleet and snow. Upon the...

. Orpheus We want the heroes back so we can learn: Herakles smashed his way to hell and stormed By violence the ferryman and three-faced dog; Even yanked Theseus from his deep-rooted seat Without a by-your-leave to hell’s dark lord. Is that the way to go? Now is our turn?...

. To a Beet I sing the bristled hedgehog grainno horticulture can explain,with six sly seedlings in its brain:__the unborn beet.  That hook-and-hollow hydra seed, a spiny knell to nascent weeds;nor leaf nor rootlet can impede__those fuchsia feet. I sing the painted plum-wine sproutsthat spring aloft---as one, no doubt---outrageous rings that...

. When Less Is More An SCP Poetry Challenge by James A. Tweedie In a recent email exchange with a poet friend, I found myself typing the following sentence: “Poetic forms, such as sonnet, etc. force poets to trim their words down to the minimum for maximum effect.” This raised...

. The Cropland Though coins, good health, and victualsAre mortal man's essentials,I pray for great fertilityOf that arable land in me,Where crops of different names take birth:Love, Beauty, Humour, Grief, and Mirth.I reap them with the pen I hold,And this, in turn, makes lines unfold—The food on which my life...

. Truth Is Not Beauty “What is the worst mistake you ever made in bed?” Reply: “My son.”  (Actual dialogue on social media) I learn the truth; I’m more and more aggrieved. There’s nothing left, no gleam or glint of hope When parents wish their children weren’t conceived. What bitter...

. The Sultan’s Aging Son Recalls the Hippo Hunt “The Hippopotamus Hunt” by Peter Paul Rubens, c. 1615-1616 “The sultan sent three sons…” His voice is frail; the boys lean in. “On horseback, battle bound, we marched with two barbarians to the sound of barking curs at our feet and a distant...

. Reservoir Those who can still see through accreting years Are getting scarce, those who can lift such veil To remember when the Corps of Engineers Dammed a minor river to end its tale Of flood and misery among the local Communities of farmers and the like. The reservoir’s now...

. Easter Evening Appearance Luke 24 Sealed up within my upper room, Absorbed by morbid discontent And fear, I questioned everything I’ve done and wondered what it meant. Though slim perspective chided me And better angels gently mocked, When I’m alone there in that room, The door is pretty firmly...

. May Songs . I. Where does loyalty take its rest? Where is charity’s portraiture, Except in you, sweet virgin pure? Where has virginity possessed The honor due its high allure? Where does loyalty take its rest? Where is charity’s portraiture? Where can a creature find the best Retreat and...

. Some Can't See the Beauty Some can’t see the beauty in __A flower or a tree. I call them nature blind because __Their minds won’t let them see. Perhaps it’s biophobia— __A general fear of nature— Or hylophobia—a fear __Of forest nomenclature. Some fear the sand on beaches, __Or...

. Third-Degree Burns A young poet who came from Dundee Looked around him and then took a knee, __For the older he grew __The more surely he knew That accomplishment wasn’t to be. But another lad, whom we’ll call Angus, Who was wont to berate and harangue us, __Said, “They...

. Watching My Children at Play in a Graveyard Laughing, the children slip between the stones Laid out in rows like cracked and crooked teeth, And tread with little care upon the bones Of those who dream of better worlds beneath Grief’s gifts of plastic flowers, faded pale. But youth...

. Jerzy and Cyla Jerzy, a Polish teen in World War Two, Arrested for suspected membership Of the resistance, faced a one-way trip To Auschwitz. There, where womenfolk were few, Labouring in a storehouse used for grain He witnessed the arrival of a crowd Of girls. One, by extremity uncowed,...

. The Dance __'Tis springtime _And air is a-breezin', Wafting through fair winds that blow. __The blossoms _From flowering jasmine Are waltzing along with the flow. __As vines twist _And twine in a tango, A rhumba with bees fills the hive. __The warblers _Sashay in a frenzy--- 'Tis springtime, and...

. The Knight of Monticello Everywhere and always, Jefferson read. His library stocked a sage’s daily bread. Four volumes, leather-bound, well-thumbed, perused: Don Quixote, his most peculiar muse. He understood as written, Spanish words, no episodes obscured, no meanings blurred. Delighting in that knight’s befuddled thoughts, he seemed to mold...

. . Theópneustos Greek, “God breathed” . The Word of God is absolute— __Or else, some claim, it’s obsolete. Many hold it in disrepute, __Dismiss it as myth and deceit. . I say it’s for the destitute, __For those below life’s balance sheet. Emmanuel is resolute: __He beckons to His...

. A Shakespeare Garden Stroll Of all the blooms, I like the lily best. Might you prefer a deep vermilion rose? Well, each to earth some special good can give; Let’s glean what naturally in season grows. At dawn the tree tops whisk the milky moon, And winking Mary-buds ope...

. Shakespeare's Women for Susan Jarvis Bryant, who has a spiritual home in Stratford-on-Avon It’s April 23rd. The rain is pouring And from the Gulf the Poet can hear thunder. She sips Earl Grey. Her regal cat is snoring. The Folger in her hand fills her with wonder. She gazes...

. On an Otter He slinks beneath, but not for long; surprise! he sprouts atop the pool to stare: his leather nostrils round, his prickled whiskers clean and cruel, with juggled bounce above the wave, a subtle charmer’s circus seal, he cranes his nimble neck to spy the inklings of...

. Rolling the Roads The Days Before Snow Plows . A major storm throughout the night __Of heavy, wet, spring snow. Nor'easter off the coast of Maine __Hence wicked winds did blow. When finally the storm was over, __A six-horse team stood hitched To a double drum snow roller; __Teams...

. The Moment I’m sure of what will happen when The tide resumes its rise again And drowns the beach: Erasing signs that we were here, The water will be sure to clear What’s in its reach. The wind will whisk, as surely, too, Our words away, both false and...

. Carpe Diem Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero. (“Seize the day, trust as little as possible in tomorrow.”) Horace, Odes I:11 We live our lives, we make our plans, and then Both time and circumstances intervene To bring us back to making plans, again. Tomorrow can be only guessed,...

. The Sound of Dirt   in memory of my granddaughter, Valerie (March 30, 2020 - April 20, 2020) Above uneven chairs a canopy Protects the mourners from the blazing heat. It does not shield from view the pile of dirt That yesterday was six feet in the earth. The canopy...

. If Need Be If lawfare prosecutors aren’t proficient, And Biden family crimes can’t be denied, The ballots that they harvest aren’t sufficient, Their policies’ gross failures they can’t hide, If truth leaks from behind the censor’s curtain, Fake news is obvious despite the show, Don’t worry Democrats---and know for...

. Snowy Egret Here where sunlight sparkle rinses Cypresses whose balding branches Shoulder epiphytic orchids (Cowhorn, spider, ghost, or scented), Tangled mangrove swamp condenses Fortress walls against surf breakage; Leggy roots and finger shoots pry Into algal mats fermented. Spanish moss like pearl-grey hair flows Over knobby knees of pond...

. The Woods Have Waited Anxiously The woods have waited anxiously for me to reappear. I left them when the snow piled high in fall of late last year. The tree trunks have another ring while branches reach for air. What changes have transpired since last fall when I trod...

. To the Evening Breeze When I unbolt the terrace door, He enters quickly, greeting me With kisses on my cheeks and hair As if a friend who'd longed to see My face for countless centuries. As night begins to blacken more And, ray by ray, the moonlight flees, I...

. Lone Musketeer "To be a poet in a destitute time means: to attend, singing, to the trace of the fugitive gods. This is why the poet in the time of the world’s night utters the holy … Poetry is a place marker for the gods in times of great...

. Poem I of the three Quiet and Peaceful Melody Poems by Li Bai The clouds like swirling clothes, the flowers like a face, The Spring breeze brushes railings, dewdrops condensate. If you don’t see her at the mountaintop displayed, Meet there beneath the moon at the terrace known as...

. A Reverie Some days in August there’s a summer hum Of distant outboard motors, or a plane Relentlessly pursuing a puffed cloud, Echoes of past revelers, and then some More silent moments, full of what’s to come. Waves I will see crash shores, cold driving rain, Fast traffic on...

. Old New England Logging Camps My father-in-law oft told me tales __Recalling logging camp— Tough men who cut gigantic trees __In winters cold and damp. Nearly all were bonded Frenchmen, __Who hailed from old Quebec. And pledged that when the winter passed __Back homeward they would trek. Formal schooling...

. Poetry in the Image of God Conjure and weave a calligraphic spell Within the wells of mystic words and themes, And bring to life a voice with tales to tell Of life and death, of laughter, love, and dreams. Conceive, command, contrive, connive, cajole From sweet romance or willful,...

. A Fitful Veil A wanton wave of pallid hail descends from ashen skies. Its drifts are carried through to every nook and peak by lofty winds; abundant, jutted, powdered sheets imbue terrains with bright white hues, as structured flakes display arrays of lustrous reveries. This frigid reign persists. A...

. The Light Under the Door for GGG, in lieu of roses On school days, dark on winter mornings, my mother rose Before us all and in her quiet way imposed Rough order on our little world. I’d lie listening To kitchen sounds—the kettle filled, the openings And closings, porridge...

. Rudolf Hess Deputy Führer found strangled at Spandau Prison, August 17, 1987 Odd winter whirlwinds occupy my brain With telepathic messages I cherish. Dynamic years! Mein Führer cannot perish When august frenzy storms my mind’s terrain, But fever may mean poisoned food. I sensed it. These Allies once starved...