Culture

. Blackwater River State Park A warm summer day. The kayak floats quietly. The cicadas sing. . . Nightfall at Pensacola Beach The sun has now set And not a light can be seen. What just made that splash? . . The Forts of Pensacola Bay The guns are silent....

. The world is ruled by two men­---Jack and Zuck, More than their strange appearance their deeds suck. Jack’s goatee truly suits a Marxist boss Who for free speech and thought gives not a toss, While Zuck the Cuck with Chinese spouse has luck In getting socialists to pay a...

. Changeable and fickle is the woman. Some things she says, and surely thinks are so, defy a logic with a bent to wander beyond the bounds of any truth we know. Her reasoning, like multi-colored rainbows whose dissipating prisms on the wane confuse and yet impossible to alter by...

. First they came for the Jews, you see, And I did not speak out’ Because I wasn’t a Jew (not me!) I didn’t give a shout. Then they came for the Communists And I did not speak out; Seditious, Marxist Socialists, Deplorables, no doubt. Then they came for trade...

. B.C./D.C. Where history and myth converge Two famous founders do emerge, Of nations that excelled at war. (Coincidence?  Or something more?) George Washington and Romulus Are equally eponymous, And they’re remembered nowadays In curious divergent ways: The latter founded seven hills; The former’s found on dollar bills. . ....

. How To Be Like Byron Bright butterfly, why do you fade Into that duller, browner shade That strays into the flame at night? You’ve lost your nature’s vibrant light And seek it in another source. For you, I’ll heartily endorse A colorful biography To help you live by, dogma-free....

. Daily we vent and cement our position In righteous and virtuous words. Unity fails if each crucial decision Is left to the whim of the herds. Deplorable plebs are so flawed and naïve When treading the foolhardy path That maddens our minds. Where’s the creed we believe? We think...

. Ode to Spring Oh glory be to things that grow! That burgeon, blossom, bud and blow In Springtime’s light and airy breeze, Which ruffles softly new sprung leaves. What tongue there be to justly praise The wonders wrought by Vernal days? These beauties bright which turn, indeed, Each frozen...

. . Father And John: How It Once Was Before self-righteous rules, brash and insistent,There was a natural rhythm, quite unspoken.So when my father hired an assistantTraditionalist, he followed rules unbroken. There was no power-structure interference—No lying résumés, self-serving spinningBy quasi-moral snoops. Avoiding nonsense,He struck the soul of it. John’s...

. The Verbum Dei Retreat Centre on the Isle of Wight aims to be a place of encounter with God We took the ferry; darkness closed; Warm lights ahead; who knew the way? Crowded in a car, pilgrims led For God knows what to Verbum Dei. They took the register;...

. Well, you beat the odds against you, though I think you rather knew That with media assistance, and a counting scheme or two, There would be a sudden shifting, like a tide, upon a whim, Moving in the wrong direction—though the odds are mighty slim. Now your face beams...

. I fear my motivation’s dead; there’s no one home inside my head. I’ve looked for it from dusk to dawn; I tell you, it is really gone! The situation is quite dire; my neurons will no longer fire. I worry that I’m up a creek while it’s off playing...

. Tyrants would distribute largesse, a bushel of wheat, a gallon of wine, and a sesterce: and then everybody would shamelessly cry, “Long live the King!” ---Juvenal Keep a mind that’s blind to widened outlook. Recite the writing on the PC wall. Preach from Satan’s trick-the-trusting playbook, Where speech is...

.   January 25 is the birthday of Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759–1796). On or near this day, Scots worldwide gather for a supper of haggis (traditionally made of sheep innards), whisky, and poetry. Henderson’s Salad Table is a vegetarian legend. This vibrant family business had expanded to three locations...

. A coat of luminescent snow Descended on my patch of grass, And for a moment all its glow Inflamed my eyes like burnished brass. And in a moment it had gone, But not withdrawn; it nimbly turned Into a floodplain on my lawn, A flood of slushing drops concerned...

 . Long View Cottage The view is long and dark atop the mountain where I roam. Birds sing a little sweeter in a high and softer tone. The people gave it many names; I only call it home. The fog hangs thick and wet just like a wave crest with...

. On Rembrandt's "Return of the Prodigal Son" Three centuries have passed since it was wrought--- A work of art transcendent yet humane. The tender play of feelings Rembrandt caught: A wastrel son disgraced, prostrate with pain; Humiliated by the sin he sought But somehow freed from Pride’s eternal stain,...

. The Death of Adam Excerpted from Musings on Piero della Francesca’s “History of the True Cross,” in the Church of San Francesco, Arezzo, Italy There’s always both: the sacred and profane. The right tends to the former, left the latter. The weak side’s earthbound, ugly, heavy matter, where even...

. Even then Cassandra, who, by the god’s decree, is never to be believed by Trojans, reveals our future fate with her lips.  —Virgil, The Aeneid (Kline translation) Surcease, Cassandra, stop that whining. We’ve heard what you have said. Enough. Come pour yourself a glass of wine and make, as they...

. Stream Above the bend, the water deep and clear, the current strong; seen from the Buckman Bridge, ten minutes walk for me, my cabin near, through pines down from a timeworn granite ridge —a lofty mountain once, it’s said, in time gone by. I come to see and hear...

. Daddy came home from “the war to end all war” And seemed, at first, one of the lucky ones. He looked exactly as he had before, His flesh untouched by bullets, gas, or bombs. But not his memories…soon enough, we found The things he’d seen and done were always...

Seven inches, simple dark design My modern mind disdains the notion That the measure of devotion Is the size or splendor of the shrine. Spilling supplications, meat and wine My ancestors with deep emotion Worshiped as a magic potion Stones that smoothed their steps to the divine. Sparse to me...

X Every Little Thing I. His Version She treasured every little thing that you                gave her: the sparrow necklace (hazel blueto match her eyes) the bracelet slipped insidethe box of chocolate treats---the wine train ride.And it's not been just things, but moments too: the...

“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” ---Martin Luther King, Jr. “I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the...

. Rosarium a sestina A rose arises red from its green sheath Adorned with swords that prick and pierce: the thorn, Whose vigil kept ensures its life's not brief. Unmatched in charm though fresh from garden born The rose enrobes in em'rald linen leaf Eclipsed only by ruby jew'lry worn. The...

. My word will not survive a fire: the dust, the ash of paper singed by matches struck by fingers bent on silence. And it must rot here in summer heat in humid muck where mold will gnaw away at every page. My poetry will age like bread left out...

. My inconsistent pharmacist, Administer that certain cure That can relax my hardened fist In doses sweet with taste impure. O give me something for the pain, My head thumps fast, my heart beats slow, Or take a glance into my brain, For only then you’ll really know Just how...

_ Orchestra Tuning Up Is this the way the universe once sounded?A mass confusion of discordant trumpets,Flutes, horns, and violins like baffled cometsWithout a geometric course, confounded? Can this be how the universe was founded?An orchestra of galaxies in commotion,Celestial bodies bent upon collision,Spinning around infinity, surrounded By instrumental and...

(All poems by Bruce Dale Wise) The Victory of Donald J. Trump in the 2020 U.S. Election by Erisbawdle Cue You can’t make something be so, if the numbers are all wrong. You can’t hide Waldo in a place where he does not belong. You can’t explain by obfuscating and...

. Stress can envelop, encircle, entangle. Strictures can pressure from every angle. Tripping and slipping to ways that are errant happen to all who endeavor to parent. What should you do when in need of a breather? Run or surrender? The answer is neither. Here are some morsels you might...

. Portrait of God drawn from Scripture by François-René de Chateaubriand (1768-1848), translated by Adam Sedia Know you the jealous God, who dare engage In sin, whose impious deeds ignite his rage? His flaming chariot courses far through space; Death and the Demon flee before his face; Trembling, the Threefold...

. Rapt “I must go down to the sea again,  to the lonely sea and the sky…” ---John Masefield  Today I felt the roil of sky and sea Merge to form a swathe of seamless blue, Where surge of wave and breeze found harmony; A smooth and lucent fusion filled my view. A melding of the ocean and the air Blended till their boundaries coalesced. Their brackish union wrapped me in a prayer And whispered of an earth...

. Benvenuto Cellini’s Salt-Cellar A woman sitting back, just mildly curious To hear a man’s contrived, seductive patter, Waiting to see what fabrications spurious He’s dreamt up now. It doesn’t really matter— She has no interest in him beyond this: The day is long, his chitchat passes time; In half...

. Behold the father of this infant land, Conductor of our daunting foe’s defeat, Now warmly laureled for his noble stand Through which our liberty was made complete. Yet Washington the praise did humbly hear, For he had seen the suff’ring and the strain— No pay, scant food, harsh cold,...

. Humility Lo, I have seen the Muses plain. What need Have I to go on living?—’Twas in Rome: I touched the flesh (it was a holy deed) That Michelangelo shaped out of stone. O what a great and glorious legacy The Ancients left us!—beautiful and rare. But look at...

. Wokeness by Russel Winick “Amen and Awoman” the Congressman said, The Leftists all thought it was great. What more woke insanity now lies ahead? That young females “womanstruate”? .  . Nightfall by C.B. Anderson No longer will our children learn in school A history that's free from outright lies...

. With Goals in Tow I’ve fewer days ahead of me than those I have been blessed to see. Though time moves on so rapidly, my hopes sustain. God still has plans for me, I know. He’s guiding me as to and fro I move through life with goals in...

. Flodden Historical Note: The Battle of Flodden took place between English and Scottish armies on September 9, 1513. The battle proved a tragic disaster for the Scots who lost an estimated 12,000-17,000 men including the Scottish King James IV, the leading clergy, most of the royal court and the...

. The Death of Today’s Sequoia Flecte ramos, arbor alta, tensa laxa viscera: Et rigor lentescat ille, quem dedit nativitas, Ut superni membra regis miti tendas stipite. —Venantius Fortunatus (c. 530-609 A.D.), lines from his hymn Pange Lingua Gloriosi translated at the end of this poem. The ring-counting post mortem...

. The Inca Kings Who stole the kings? Even Pachacutec's mummy now is gone from Lima's hospital display of Inca royalty—the T-Rex of them all, ferocity turned brittle bones and shrunken body in a sack, worthless to invaders seeking gold. The wisdom of the panther run amok, hapless Incas lost...