Culture

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...

"Winner: Humanitarian Award" Mugabe’s universally adored. He made his people multi-millionaires--- Zim dollars are the answer to their prayers. Champion of the poor, the sick, the old; A veritable knight of legends bold. The worn war-vets (of sixteen years and over) Provided for and landed in the clover. With bulldozers...

  The Back-to-Work Protesters Limerick by Mark F. Stone Our minders with power and pensions can rob our hopes, while the Fourth Estate calls us a "mob." They would be less scornful and also more mournful, if they were the ones who were out of a job.     Snitch...

  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...

  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...

Mayor Rules Chocolatier "Essential Business" by Mark F. Stone Our craving for chocolate is serious. Deny us and we will be furious. Withholding confections could alter elections for mayors in ways deleterious.     The I’m Angry Blues by James A. Tweedie I’m angry at the President. I’m angry at...

  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...

  Tongues Spin and Weave Tongues spin and weave their sophistry, a slick and silken tapestry, from golden throne and ivory tower and each elitist seat of power through labyrinths of history. Such linguistic sorcery; such honey-spun chicanery is trickery that sweetens sour. __Tongues spin and weave. When syrup-dipped toxicity...

  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...

Costume Parties by Fiat? by Julian Woodruff ‘Round nearly vacant lots The cars grow fewer still. No traffic tied in knots, No malls in which to mill. The numbers in the market Are smaller day by day. The orders are to park it, Camped at our homes to stay. More...

  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...

  Time Is the Measure of Every Pleasure a coronavirus limerick by Mark F. Stone The State took a stand that we practice techniques to maintain our distance and clean till it squeaks. But can such a stance bring a halt to romance? Perchance we'll know more in about forty...

  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...

    Read by George T. Watt The Scrieve fae Arbroath Non enim propter gloriam, diuicias aut honores pugnamus set propter libertatem solummodo quam nemo bonus nisi simul cum vita amittit. —Scrieve fae Arbroath (6 Aprile 1320) by Joseph Charles MacKenzie Arbroath! Sae lief tae the hairts o the free,...

  Chapter I Who sings of arms these days? Or even men? The seed of Adam’s tucked inside Eve’s apple, And sits not taking root—his defect’s been Apparent since equality’s long grapple. Poor Satan garners sympathy and tears: He was oppressed, a proletarian So cruelly cast from heaven’s privileged spheres...

    Rahul Gupta holds a PhD for a thesis on mediaeval Germanic and modern mediaevalist metre and poetics from the University of York. His poetry and translations have appeared hitherto in Agenda, Acumen, Carillon, Eborakon, Equinox, and Molly Bloom, among other journals. I have recently published prose in British...

  A Life I Could Not Save She did not feel her age though she was old, But still looked young as she was often told. And so she was a vibrant 95, Happy to be healthy and alive. And yet this cancer slowly had appeared, A diagnosis worse than...

    Battle of the Bib Emma was wearing a new autumn dress. Papa snapped on her bib, to prevent a mess— oatmeal was planned at her special request But a tranquil breakfast was not to be. She waved her teaspoon like a machete And yanked at the bib to...

Foolosophy I know that I know nothing more than you, for neither of us know a single thing of relevance; I opt not to accrue vast knowledge as the price is danger’s sting. All blissful days are built on ignorance, so I forego the chance to grow aware, maintaining vacant-brained...

  Don’t Get Caught The catfish and the trout hum different tunes, But both agree they love hot afternoons When no one wants to fish, when ponds and streams And rivers generate aquatic dreams That never end, and surely never end With either one, as evening shades descend, Dead-center on...

  Pestilence Killed Them by James Sale The Pestilence killed them So the Proverb said, And with that happy thought They laid down in their bed. The Pestilence killed them--- Who else could it be? They were not responsible: He came like destiny. The Pestilence killed them, Disease like death...

  My waning days give way as dark besieges all my light. My tree, its branches sway in frigid Winter winds that bite! So too, the chill consumes me as my crackling hearth yet burns. The flicker of my fire bespeaks of warmth, yet none returns! A shadow in the...

As the Lights Go Out - the Last Limerick "The night cometh, when no man can work." John, 9:4 by Joe Tessitore I can tell there will be no escape From this hellishly chilling landscape Born of hatred and panic And of darkness satanic--- Oh how well we've been whipped...

. From hoof and hide, to flank and horn, Amid the wood, was noble born, Upon the field I walked at length, Swift in motion, high in strength, And scarcely did I need to boast, Rare of speech, unheard by most, Until this day, when hoof and bone, And blood...