Beauty

for Czesław Miłosz For a moment as brief and long as eternity he sees what the blind man sees in the blink of an eye: a sun that never sets, forms wrought from gold, purity before it falls or is restored to grace, the grey sky beheld from the far...

My Garden Lush, fresh-pruned verdure shades the cobbled path, It bursts with rich-hued blossoms strewn about Whence sweet aromas waft, blend, and enswathe, And droops with luscious, nectar-swollen fruit. But leaves spread greedily to hoard the light; And tendrils curl to choke a rival stem. And upstarts rise amid the...

The intricacies of script and figure are amazing. Kudos to the faithful who made contributions large or small. By far this volume is the greatest ever to present illuminated gospel. Ink was carefully applied to skins of calves bred for this very purpose. Just to think of such devotion—nothing done...

The Seabirds Seagulls, on the air they glide, Over the waves to the land; Soaring across the sky, so wide, To softly land on the sand. Pelicans, floating in the sky, Upon the wind, so free; Across the sunset, up so high, Then dive down to the sea. Invisibly, the...

Translation by David B. Gosselin   If I from this darkened valley Where the gloomy vapors creep Might by some wonder swiftly flee My soul could blessedly weep! Gazing upon this pure serene Eternal hills through heaven fare, Had I wings to climb this scene My spirit would scale the...

. . Boasted Viridian Said Viridian Green to Cerulean Blue, “The waves would be boring without me and you, The crashing unflashing, the sheen without glow, Silver unplugged: not luminous Bro.” . . Of Weeding and Air Conditioning No facial expression announcing the work No special confession "look I didn't...

Song of Us Face to face, polite and careful, Tentative we were, and prayerful, Neither one of us would dare pull More from this than met the eye. . . . Yet Side by side we worked together, Hands of flesh with hands of leather, And we slowly pondered whether...

  Napoleon in New Orleans So the sun of Austerlitz has set. I had many triumphs, but it’s the few defeats – Leipzig, Waterloo especially – I struggle to forget. I struggled to rearrange all of Europe as I alone saw fit. Quite reasonably, it didn’t submit. Was I Jacob...

Poet's Note: In this sonnet I'm paying tribute to the patriotic bikers who make their annual pilgrimage to Washington DC to participate in Rolling Thunder's First Amendment Demonstration Run every year on the Sunday before Memorial Day.  While the bike run through the capital does get its minute of news...

By James A. Tweedie Call me a snob but I am generally attracted to what is commonly referred to as “great art” or the “masterpieces.” Over the years I have looked at famous paintings and I have looked at less famous paintings. I have decided that famous paintings are famous...

Heritage as Hope I saw the cricket scene in evening light, In Windsor light with calm men moving through The evening air and dressed in cricket white. Long centuries are contained beneath the blue Of evening sky which folds the chestnut blooms In its embrace as two teams play by...

All poems translated from Russian. The Rock A gold cloud rested the whole night Upon the breast of a huge rock; And cheerfully at dawn it dashed Into the blue not to come back Wet traces in the crevices Of ancient stone like tears remained; And deep in thought alone...

Joy Comes Softly silent; kindly kept, ___the haunted hours crept. Moonlit minutes—marked and mute, ___the lonely doubt takes root. The tendrils twine; the rootlets reach. ___Somehow the sun must breach. Morning breaks; my bridegroom’s come— ___virtue’s vigil done. The light of love shines stronger still. ___Awake, Amore’s thrill!   What...

Bridge of Memories a symmetrelle in mixed syllabic meter A bridge built of memories spans the gap between future and past. Although life may speed by us too fast, from every experience, knowledge we gain. Each second of happiness, boredom and pain; far too many moments for us to retain...

The Archaeological Gardens at Giardini-Naxos 7 March 2018 The stones are overgrown with clover now, Drowned by daisies, fresh cape sorrel too; Orange or lemon globes gleam from each bough; Mankind’s Old’s usurped by Nature’s New. To think such careful craft should come to this, We muse while roaming at...

The pika climbs the snowless slopes in hope of finding cooler climes. A tailless kin to hares, he shelters under stones to cope with rising temps within his furry skin. The ball of fur appears to roll than hop. From rock to rock, he gathers summer sedge and dries his...

  Tulip Tree in Bloom, January Every working day I pass a tulip tree on yellow grass and strain to see, when it appears, petals out this time of year. Even our southern winter's strong-- it hunkers down and won't move on: A sky that presses close its gray; chilling...

  The Fairies Danced The fairies danced and shone like diamonds on __The lake below. My pole across my knees; __My creel on my lap; the sun and trees __Stood still; the mountain breeze had passed and gone. I sat on granite, smooth and cool, and chose __A fly (a...

The Devil’s Details There’s a devil in the details, Those traits we like to sort; There’s a devil in the details, The minutiae we contort. We once marched for color-blindness; Now we muster into tribes. Retreat is called advancement In this war of diatribes. Like a costume on the outside,...

Lullaby When you sang to your baby boy did other hearts not fill with joy those few who just happened to hear? for even on their darkest day your lullaby would chase away every doubt and pain and fear the angels never sang like this nor heard the pure exquisite...

  The painful birth of motherhood So few have really understood Is but a shadow that foretells The pain our parents knew so well Of children singing out farewell As to their freedom they rush out With a merry, happy shout “See you, mom, papa,” they call Do they look...

''A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.'' —Dylan Thomas By Gideon Cecil We are living in an unpoetic age; poetry for many people in Guyana and globally is of very little significance...

I used to be politer, but more boring, my friends say. They could take me anywhere. My conversation wasn’t overbearing. My actions seemed as if I didn’t care more than was apt. Now I appear half-crazy, they tell me, and act drunk before I drink. I babble, slur my sentences,...

  At last, some time to catch my breath – a rest, a respite in the fight – How many times I parried death! Bask now in this fast-fading light. ___Behold the whispering golden sea ___so wide – see it inside of me. The day’s end finds this carcass sore...

From the White Cloud Poetry Society. Translation by Jennifer Zeng, rendition in formal verse by Damian Robin   With all the trees in shrouds of falling snow, We move towards the moment of Time's birth. My thoughts leap forward with great strength and flow Within the massive gap of heaven...

Sing me a sonnet of spring's first sweet kiss. Let me gaze at splendid colors around. warm sun touching my cheeks; the cold remiss. those angelic sounds of spring now abound. The morning songbirds sing loud flying high, honks of northbound geese waving in the mist. the buzz of the...

When spring arrives, the wildflow’rs start to grow In woods and fields, and by the country lanes. In reds and yellows, see the vernal show, Inaugurated by the winter rains! But in the state of Texas, we can say That springtime has a quite distinctive hue; The state’s official flower...

I am the shining star above-- The perfect ray of light. I am the wisest thought conceived, I am the earth's delight. I am God's greatest creation, The angels sing my name. I never have been false or bleak, Nor deaf, nor dumb, nor lame. I am the Word made...

  When cathedral bells toll through the morning and sunlight touches steeples with its glare, and arrows on the town hall clock stop turning, you will find him on the market square, sweeping leaves in shadows of despair. And in that instant you will cease your yearning. Hunchbacked, with a...

  by James Green “Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield.” —Christopher Marlowe These fervent lines are some of Marlowe’s most famous, and serve as an encapsulation of the...

In the painting, she has turned to look back At where her lover’s  corpse lies in the  ground. Her face is blurred; her dress, funereal black, Stands out from  greenery flourishing all round. Within the earth, nature will break him down Till he is one with all that living green:...

In dactylic hexameter Turgid the sea as it billows and foams in the face of the tempest. Wind-lifted wave-crests explode into diamonds agleam in the sunlight. Surf-spray erupts atop surge-curled water descending in free fall Sweeping the beach leaving smooth-glistened sand in the wake of its ebbing Lonely I stand...

In my dreams, I always see you smiling, Your bright eyes twinkling like a million stars. In my dreams, there is no sense to crying, Your gentle touch has healed the painful scars. We stroll alone together, hand in hand, As if we cross the cosmos with our steps. The...

A Cello Knows Amidst the smoke and light and laughter Along the smiles and cheers thereafter A sound is bled, wrung free from strings It bounds and treads and wholly sings Inside each song, a secret’s moved Not right nor wrong or frequent proved The message dances from bow to...

April 26 is Poem in Your Pocket Day, part of National Poetry Month. On this day, people are encouraged to carry a poem in their pockets and share it with others. Below are recommended rhyming poems for this day from contemporary classical poets and famous classical poets of the past....

The lamp holds sway along the shadowed streets A penumbra encircles its sweet shine As night rests softly like a feathered cloak Upon a multitude of dancing stars And night and stars and lamp become a song A story writ in music’s measured bars The lamp’s penumbra swings on shadowed...

From Lost Love & Other Lyrics A casida Sleep, the enemy of inspiration, An unlikely ally that hangs around, With dawn’s rebirth, cause for celebration. Dreams, their rites of passage are at my feet, There refuge lies in the revelation of sound, An archipelago, where lovers meet. A young heroine,...

  Wee hours, when crickets tune their eerie cords and hoot the yawning owls at twinkling stars; the night-maid roves seesaw, like a drunken bard, besmeared with stripes of billion moonlight-scars! A slithering thief along the parapet wall, a snaking beau crossing the forlorn street, a Robin chirping sweet on...

How Can We Know? A villanelle How can we know where we go when we die; Pondering signs, looking up at the sky, Wondering if Someone's hearing my cry? Which religion is right, which one a lie? Too much in common to outright deny; How can we know where we...

Part 1 Between a teardrop and the heart, We sense our feelings weakened, mourn, For sadness as the tones impart A sound perceived and now forlorn. Opposing songs composed, to ache, Before their scripted voices break, Imagined dreams, enthralled to wake, The haven of the thoughts we make. And moods...