Beauty

Hummingbird Communion I watch them play at dawn of day, as molten gold is splashed their way, on feathers flecked with flashing green and rubies fused in morning’s beam, where sleepers dream and seekers pray. My sabbath aerial display, my seraphim sky-high ballet, means while the worshippers convene I watch...

Clarity and Obscurity Part III Read Part I: The Essences of Classicism and Modernism Compared Read Part II: "Concrete" Poetry and the Fall of Metaphor by Adam Sedia Modernism produces obscure poetry because it denies the existence of absolute truth. Without a fundamental truth to reveal, poetry is relegated to...

  O do not chasten me with tales of fine __Fresh wells of wisdom and of warriors bold, __Or sacred veins of Ethiopian gold, Your more than oracles or muses nine, For I've drunk deep of a more potent wine __That welcomes all into its bounteous fold, __Where worlds abundant,...

  New York poet Joe Tessitore challenges poets to begin a poem with these words:   My country used to be...   Post your poem in the comments section below. (Poems should be metered.)

all poems by Bruce Dale Wise   The Pilot by Air Weelbed Suc I saw him flying overhead, a pilot in a plane, and looking down, he gazed upon the anguish and the pain. Although I saw compassion in his eyes, as he flew on, he still prepared to launch...

  https://youtu.be/bYg-ITiEEyM   "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud," also known as "Daffodils," the poem by former British Poet Laureate William Wordsworth (1770-1850) read by the President of The Society of Classical Poets, Evan Mantyk, and filmed by Katy Mantyk on May 10, 2020, Mother's Day.     Daffodils, or...

The Argument: The Poet, having escaped the HellWard of European and corrupt politicians, emerges into the penultimate HellWard depth where he, with his guide, Dante, meets the Poetasters from America and Britain. These lost souls have denied Apollo and the real meaning and purpose of poetry. They have, thus, have...

St. Piran (Feast Day: March 5) A rhupunt Irish heathens, Unbelieving, Strapped poor Piran To a stone then Rolled him over. A cliff! Cut-throats They came to gloat. Though stones don’t float This one turned boat, Sea-borne rover. What had been all A rough sea squall At God’s hand palled...

  In the midst of free-verse critics’ Smug, inchoate analytics __Seasoned with self-righteous pedantry, There are poets who are striving To achieve success reviving __Classical and formal poetry. Hail the Muse of Mount Parnassus! Apuleius’ Golden Ass is __Overshadowed by Homeric verse. Celebrate the works of Horace, Aeschylus and Grecian...

  Spring Snow Tyrant Winter reaches __Beyond its frozen tomb, Dares cast its icy mantle __On bud and crocus-bloom. Long it reigned unchallenged __In dark and cold and ice; Thwarted now, it hurls back __Last volleys as it flies. Spent, it fails to muster __Its once-destroying blast; Failing snows fall...

Deep Regrets Dedicated to the memory of the 118 men of the Russian submarine Kursk, which exploded and sank in the Barents Sea on August 12th 2000. The protocols of men of power; Agendas passed in hiding. Procrastination steals the hour, Now there is none abiding. Unseen, forsaken in the...

  The Onus of Vernal Duty Surrounding fields and woods unfreeze, The air once more is filled with light, As springtime’s blanket amnesties Dispel the winter’s cheerless night. So long you’ve waited for reprieve, That you can barely trust your senses And therefore tend to disbelieve The visions flashing through...

  Donald J. Trump They laugh at him and sneer as if his lack Of faith in modernism’s unholy gods Can justify each Philistine attack And drown out facts with which they are at odds. Yet from their barbs he fashions Aaron’s rods That gobble up the hatred others feel...

  It takes patience to learn patience; It takes courage to be brave. One must first find mental freedom To no longer be a slave. Only faith can make us faithful; Truth alone can make us true. Life must vitalize our living, Or we die before we’re through. We must...

  Vermont in April doesn’t seem to know quite how to dress. She thinks she ought to wear bright, flowery things, and yet, she cannot tear herself away from all the clothes that go with winter. Browns and grays become her so, those short, dark days. She knows she must...

We meet Diomedes, the Greek hero of Troy, trapped in a flame with Odysseus in Canto 26 of Dante’s Inferno. Odysseus speaks but Diomedes remains silent. Here, ironically, he speaks through his presence.   How smoke refused to clear For all his fearful presence; At least smoke knew no fear....

  Winter's Breath The sudden chill of winter's sigh Caresses me when autumn flees. My meager warmth she tries to pry, While planting kisses cold and dry; With icy breath she starts to tease. I'm bundled as I walk along, But still can feel her hands on me. She whispers...

  They march in an imaginary parade, All of the dear ones I have ever known, Relatives, friends, impressively arrayed, Saluting them, I stand here all alone. This is no show of military might, Though in their different ways, they fought for me And should have been more precious in...

  Beyond His Ken based on a true story The plane was in the skies above Beijing When, let us call her Joy, a stewardess With China Eastern Airlines, saw the ring And heard the heartfelt words, and answered, ‘Yes!’ Those near them, who beheld the ad hoc scene So...

  That day a dark, vermillion, winter sky, like a Turner water-colour, was seen reflected in an old pond where, nearby, the poet Basho watched a small, unclean and speckled frog jump in the evening air and meet the water with a gentle plop, an almost soundless splash, a plash...

  For England & St. George In praise let’s raise our flagons to the conqueror of dragons to the Saint who fought for all he thought was fair. Let’s fly our flags and bellow for that bold, courageous fellow with a stomping-monster tale beyond compare. Sent forth in times of...

  Golf My friends love golf so much But I do not share the allure. There’re many other ways for me To function like manure.     It’s Love Last night we watched old videos Our kids were 3 and 4 I told one son about it And he said...

  The statue stands and holds aloft her torch, the Kalahari moon, the Northern Star. A lantern glimmers on a Southern porch; a balefire beacon signals war. These are unbroken shafts of light connecting lands, a structure made of beams and pillars, shining; Across the seas the planks of light...

  Seven skulls sit side-by-side atop the wall of Erringtide. Their salted sockets watch the wide expanse of waves within which hide the devils Marax, sixes each who’d seek to storm the sandy beach and scale the ramparts, rend a breach, the Prince of Erringtide to reach. The skulls, they...

  The empty sonnet frame’s a puzzle box into whose elaborate maze ideas are dropped. They press its walls and work to plot a path through dark till final light appears. Escape demands ideas adapt and bend around slotted bridle angles, on to shelves of lines, be they enjambed or...

  Sonora: The Desert Harsh sunlight beats upon the thirsty land And glares upon the limestone cliffs and sand, While waves of heat rise shimmering, above The parched loam where the great saguaros stand. And perched up high among the spines thereof There broods in camouflage a mother dove, Whose...

The March of Spring O, hear the bold approach of spring, who marches, stamping, blowing! He startles all the birds that sing above the fast streams flowing. They take to wing and soar on high Where white clouds race across the sky. What garish, yes, outlandish dress the spring dons...

  So here he lies as he has lain in state These ninety years in this cathedral crypt At Westminster. We come to venerate The relics of a martyr: his heart, ripped Out of his chest at Tyburn for a priest, Was sewn back in at Cromwell’s stern behest. Four...

  What If My Time What if my time is limited? if all That I have left is perhaps months, not years, All laden with the worries and the fears Surrounding what is death. Can I recall A time when all the cares of life were small, And I would...

  As Alexander rose upon a hill, somewhere east of King Darius’s dust, at once a pure, serene and awful still undoes the man. For conquer all he must, but what is next? What if the field be lost? ---What if the field be lost!? What though the field be...

  Sonnet of the Silent Voice Unbounded power marks a tyrant’s choice: He chains the infants up to keep his throne, Refusing freedom to the silent voice. Thus, he neglects his seeds that were once sown. Adults prevent its birth, to make a slave, With Lust, the master, hearts within...

  The painter and poet Sally Cook has a new exhibition at UB Art Galleries. Because of the current coronavirus pandemic, UB Art Galleries has put the entire exhibition online so that you can actually travel through it and experience it virtually. Click below to visit the exhibit: http://ubartgalleries.buffalo.edu/exhibitions/sally-cook-1960-present/  ...

  Translation by David O'Neil Translator’s note: Piers Plowman is a late medieval allegorical narrative poem, believed to be authored by William Langland, which describes several visions experienced by the poem’s narrator, called Will. The language is Middle English,* but the meter belongs to the poetic tradition of Old English...

  Easter by Joe Tessitore Behind the stone of timeless wait He rose alone despite its weight and strode from darkness into light; Eternal Day dispelling night.   Like Christ and Lilies by James A. Tweedie To higher zeniths doth the sun aspire _As winter wanes and waxing spring ascends....

  Dulcius Ex Asperis by Andrew Ross Invisible and terrible A virus stalks the land. It floats across the atmosphere And moves from man to man. A tickle in the throat perhaps, A muted sneeze to start. A dying gasp, The poisoned asp, It still remains as we depart. A...

  No One to Comfort Them after Ecclesiastes 4 Just look around: Oppression everywhere exists beneath the sun, and the oppressed cry vainly for relief, but who will care? The slaves, the poor, all those who are distressed and dying, the addicted, and the lost--- who comforts them amid their...

  Sullen, somber skies— Heavy leaden tears are shed in sorrow. Heaven cries. Thunderous sobbing grief— Thrashing, crashing; Flashing, gnashing; Death defying belief. Salvic memories— Rise redounding; Soar rebounding; Echoing unease. Midday darkness creeps— Lachrymosa; Mortua ossa; All creation weeps. Crimson raindrops fall. Darkness scheming; Light redeeming. Done for. Done...

  Personae and scene: Vergil and Dante, somewhere in the mid-region of Hell. Dante: Honored Vergil, tell me where we’re going— It’s hard for me to take in what you’re showing Without some preparation. I can’t deal With shocking sights that make my blood congeal. Already I’m a quaking nervous...

  Pygmalion knew these women all too well; his instincts told him he’d better sleep alone. He took to art. —Ovid, The Metamorphoses, Book X His wife will say no living soul should trust that skinny man. He reads too much and falls asleep at 10pm. He only lusts for...

  The Last Bard o Scotland Translation by George T. Watt, frae the original by Joseph Charles MacKenzie Watters o Irvine an Annock, Ma saut tears mell wi the sautie ocean, Wast o Arran Isle an the Clyde Thay watters flow wi the aul lang syne. Gilliland! Makar o muir...