Culture

Mother of Falun Gong They said my mother would be back tomorrow, They said her smile would still shine proudly here, Her hand brush off the dreadful, bitter sorrow That manifests itself within a tear, But twenty years had faded like wan mists That glide and winnow on a brackish...

by Edward C. "Ted" Hayes   A Prefatory Poem (or a Gaggle of Goosefeathers) Some will judge this essai the exact thing it’s not – Distilled, unvarnished, contemned tommyrot For asserting mod poets’ sad lack of discernment And non-Sense of Craft – for expressing concern, meant To blow a loud...

  I like it, though it’s very dark; The firelight a fading arc Along the tree, whose ageing bark Shows day is near. I like it, but have questions yet: I do not know where this is set, And are they strangers? Have they met? Why are they here? The...

Who Needs QU? It’s time to retire Q-U. K-W’s logical choice. What’s Q do that K cannot do? And U’s vowel that has its own voice. Inkwire why bother with this, A kwest to our language refine? It skweeze’s down alphabet’s list And generates kwaint little rhyme.   Purple Reign*...

Salesman of Salesmen Infectious spirit, everybody’s friend,Hypnotic and fascinating, a forceOf pushy power, broiling to transcendObjections fully, only to endorsePositions he defends until the end. A dragon slayer (real or fancy free),Dynamic challenge underfoot emblazed,Through every turn of life’s calliope,Perfecting imperfections freshly glazed. Impulsive danger feeds charisma’s fire—Creative vision sold...

by Evan Mantyk As the border wall with Mexico that President Trump is building gains greater and greater attention, so too has the early 20th century poem, “Mending Wall,” by American poet Robert Frost. The poem takes issue with the old proverb “good fences make good neighbors,” which happens to...

    When I was young, I’d disassemble clocks So I could understand what made them go. With tools in hand, and pieces in a box, I’d wonder, and I’d look, and then I’d know. But lacking tools to take myself apart, I understand myself through what I’m told, And...

I start to age ten minutes out of bed, More fragile now but not yet dead. My son-in-law hovers round me when I walk In case I stumble as we talk. My daughter’s gift to me: a three-pronged cane Concealed within the quiche Lorraine. A stranger volunteers his seat to...

  Reinigeadal, Harris So many years ago it was, a child Tramped up from East Loch Tarbert’s rocky shore Across the peat hags underneath the wild And dismal sky that overhung the moor. No road could lead him thence, a mere track Between the heather clumps, it weaved its way...

Star Needles A star is just a bauble stuck on what We view as sky.  Lest it let winter in, We join sky fabric back together. When It makes a split, a slice of light slips through The center of each constellation, but The weave behind the moon where stars...

. The Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion ( 蘭亭集序; Lántíngjí Xu), from the 4th century AD, is generally regarded as the greatest work of Chinese calligraphy. Although the Preface itself is not poetry, it introduces a set of poems and the Chinese language itself is especially poetic because...

by Gregory Spicer “Death and taxes” bemoan us now, as ever. Yet as I bask in the fading embers of Christendom's most sentimental season, my mind freshly equips itself for the new year by conjoining three of the most extraordinary poems of yesteryear. The "ladies first" ideal has me wanting...

The Fiancé inspired by Anthony Trollope’s "Can you forgive her?" (1864-1865) Alice, he wants your money, honey. Alice, he wants your cash. He’d never ask you without it don’t doubt it – He’s wild; but that would be rash. He’s no use for Alice in theory, dearie; He’s no use...

Translation by Michael Coy The Lake Thus, ever driven onward to new shores, borne constantly away, Can we never, in the Ocean of the Ages, drop anchor for a day? Oh, this beautiful lake!  The year has hardly flown, yet here am I, beside these so-beloved waves of hers. Here,...

Dedicated to far too many of my contemporaries, and they know who the hell they are. I. I am the perfect poet— I strike a dainty pose. I sniff the air for floral scent And elevate my nose. I’m not a coarse and graceless type Who spouts obscene derision. Instead...

  The fire waits with tiger paws on silent haunches by the hill, then mounts the rock with clinging claws, and contemplates the moment it will pounce—on sagebrush dry as bones, under a ghostly quiet moon, slink through tinder, stalking homes, and spring atop a shingled roof. In blazing orange...

Common Language I hear the music of the artist's brush Bruise with color the canvas' white, Feel the composers' fingers rush Across the keyboard into night To lodge clear notes in the blackest sky, Stars for some poor poet to ponder, For some sculptor to absorb and sigh While letting...

Transhumanism Somewhere about there’s a slithering sound of man’s enmity, causing excitement and casting the seeds of calamity, claiming enlightened revision of old postmodernity. Oh! But the thought is as novel as man in eternity. Lewis and Ransom have shown us to view the transhumanists in the same light as...

The Catholic Work Ethic I'll do as much as I am able __Before the sun has set. I doubt that I will run the table __Because I haven't yet __Achieved my full potential. There will be time to lie in bed When doctors have pronounced me dead, __And what is...

The Afternoon of Man Fourteen or so, one autumn afternoon, my homework done and supper hours away, I scuffed along on sodden paths bestrewn with yellowed leaves in woods where I’d once played. Perhaps it was the setting sun that grayed the air, perhaps a sudden chill just then, but...

  This evening of your festive day I pray _Oh Agnes, little model of the pure, _Oh girl with smiling eyes, and faith so sure: They won for you the martyr's palm this day. For neither threat nor coaxing in the fray _Of that heroic battle was to lure _You...

. Sonnet II: Liu Xitong Liu Xitong (pronounced Leo She-tong) recently spoke on Capitol Hill about the persecution he faced in communist China for his practice of Falun Gong. Read about the event and his story here.  They strip him down, but cannot strip his soul. They splash on salty...

  These twain ephem’ral lives were fraught with woes When they, a boy and girl in morn of life, Defied their due inheritance as foes And chased a star-crossed love as man and wife. Belovéd by their family, kin and friends, To honest, faithful vow of love they swore; Walked...

On Ralph Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending, a romance for violin and orchestra inspired by George Meredith’s poem of the same title (see both below). Past years of smoke and pain, a tune in ether flows Untouched, while spreading forth from inspiration’s spring: Swift crystal tones unite in winding flight...

Author's Note: This Sonnet, formatted as both prose and poetry, is written as a parody of James Joyce; specifically, his final two novels, Ulysses and Finnegans Wake. For the record, I number myself among the vast horde of readers who once made a sincere and determined attempt to read Finnegans...

A Poet's Prayer My words are lying, cold and still; reproaching me, their silence shrill. With emptiness, my heart they fill. Inspire me, Lord, if You will. Should You decide I'm past my prime I'm still so grateful for the time when, like a bell, my words did chime -...

(1976-1978) In Soviet Georgia, I feel linguistic shock. At first assuming residents speak Russian, I say Nyet, not Ara, igniting discussion of Moscow’s nagging, Russifying clock alarms, as predictable as tick and tock. Zviad says that now the constitution requires Russian for higher education— His dissident friends shout Ara! Ara!...

The Odyssey, 21.388-22.125, translated with an eye on Homer's instinctively cinematic style. by Mike Solot The cowherd, Philoetius, quickly but quietly slipped out To fasten the gates of the courtyard. He picked up a rope He had seen on the porch—a ship’s cable made of papyrus— And used it to...

a sequel to “Let’s Take the Other Bus” Welcome, young friends, to this great university. I am your counselor, Dr. Diversity, here to advise you on all of your classes and campus life, brimming with fun and perversity. Visit our Safe Spaces in every lecture hall: personal havens from real...

  Poetry Today If elevated thought had ever beenThe least criterion of excellenceIn poetry, why should it then be seenToday as simply of no consequence?If rhyme was good enough for Shakespeare’s timeAnd rhythm beats in Keats and Chaucer, BlakeAnd Dryden why then, why is rhyme a crimeAnd rhythm a mistake...

  You Poor, Unfortunate Woman Last Monday was a special day for me. You got that big promotion and the raise! I pity you, for now your life will be a rat race through a long, nightmarish maze. You’re doomed to spend that extra salary on nerve pills and work...

Arise, You Bones “Come, spirit, from the four winds, and blow upon these slain, and let them live again.” –Ezechiel 37:9 Arise, you bones of millions, scattered far, Half-buried, all forgotten, that remain From the red dragon and its blood-stained star, That crushed near half the world beneath its reign,...

. . The Demosthenian Literary Society The nobler and loftier days, gone by, The auld lang syne of the decades that fly, The vast contemplation of time and of space, The fast moving spirits of truth and of grace, The panes in the windows were wavy and old, But mainly,...

Letters We Wrote dedicated to Diane Fournier Across the months of summer and the states, We wrote our lengthy letters, wrote our lives – Descriptions of our summer days and dates, Each to our mailbox drawn like bees to hives. We wrote our girlish gossip so that we Might keep...

  Allow for growth; dig wide—but not too deep. Add soil amender to the raw red clay. Remove the rope. Take burlap bag away. Surround the root ball, mulch and go to sleep. And as the roots unfold and slowly creep, you’ll dream of branches long that lean and sway....

The Great War The world abruptly shattered Colossal was the war And of it’s better victims The gentler arts of yore. Such shards of glass, well scattered, Across the global floor As rhyming verse in meter To coalesce no more. Yet now and then a fragment May briefly glint and...

Sancta Dei Genetrix by Joseph Charles MacKenzie Pure Mother of divine Simplicity, Being-in-Himself now slumbers in thy creche, For, thou hast tightly wrapped Infinity In swaddling clothes and thine untainted flesh; Perfection’s Prince, the self-subsistent One, Is rocked within the cradle of thine arms; In Him we see God’s Word,...

Happy Holidaze Our holidays we sanitize. They don’t offend or stigmatize. In fact we made them squeaky clean, but what, by jingle, do they mean?   The Nutcracker: Waltz of the Flowers * A dewdrop sparkles on the rose __but for a moment, this she knows. Breathtaking poise transcending time—...

Heart Bleeding heart, a kindly soul Drives demand, you give your gold, Not for the cause they imbue, Guilt sequestered deep in you. Heavy, heavy, heavy heart: A joyous life's counterpart You’re undone by whispered words Hearing darkness over heard. Faint of heart you’ll always be Overwhelmed, harsh tyranny, Cautious...

Translated by Jarek Zawadzki Upon the New Year's Day no fragrant flowers came out, Not till the second month did buds begin to sprout. The snow humiliates the spring for being late, And sprays white petals in the garden all about.   Original Chinese 韩愈 《春雪》 新年都未有芳华，二月初惊见草芽。 白雪却嫌春色晚，故穿庭树作飞花。   Jarek...