Culture

  Nature’s pillars, which have borne Earth’s breath for ages, Are now crumbling into dust... Still, more keep falling, Shattered by our storm of wants, as outer changes Echo those inside us, stirred by ‘progress’ calling. Man-made streams of poison look like serpents crawling Towards the oceans’ hidden realms of...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (born February 27, 1807 - died March 24, 1882) was an American poet of the Romantic period. He served as a professor at Harvard University and was an adept linguist, traveling throughout Europe and immersing himself in European culture and poetry, which he emulated in his poetry. Before...

  Lights The shining Santas smile in silver sleighs, With dazzling reindeer poised on roofs, midair; The phosphorescent elves stare in a daze, While shim’ring tinsel hangs from angels’ hair. The flashing lights, the lamps and laser beams Illuminate the buildings everyplace— The lights so bright they blind us in...

  Bemused “Polyhymnia would not lift her veil, All my attempts at sacred poetry failed, Calliope did not lend me her tablet, Epic poetry left me desolate, Terpsichore was sure, I could never dance, Curtly did she say, ‘not a blighted chance’ Her scroll's secret code, Clio wouldn't reveal, History...

  The First Funeral It is with wonder when I think Of Adam, Eve, no childhood grown, Standing before the living God, Alive with language, all words known. It is with wonder, then, to think They could – not taught by human tongue – Speak out and all the world...

  A Christmas Card A distant clang; here comes the heat To chase the chill from hands and feet! A steady hiss and many pings; The song our radiator sings To celebrate this Christmas morn The day that Jesus Christ was born! The windows now we see are dressed With...

  Snow’s candid praise bedecks St. Florian’s Gate As Sobieski passes on his horse. It is the Eve of Christmas, when men wait The changing of the world’s malignant course… Back in the octave of Our Lady’s birth, Whilst he prayed kneeling at Fray Marco’s Mass, The Ottomans yet held...

  https://youtu.be/dVnGlUaitiY   You hear the sound of carols from afar. Bright bulbs and tinsel, cinnamon and cloves. Beyond a hill of snow you see a star. Here you can look at stacks of Christmas trees, buy nuts and raisins, fruit from nearby groves, cards inscribed in gold: "joy, love...

by Annabelle Fuller John Keats (born October 31, 1795 - died February 23, 1821) began life as the son of a stable-owner, and ended it as an unmarried, poor and tuberculosis-ridden young man. Somewhere along the way, he managed to become one of the most beloved poets of the English...

In Fall I Set a Stone In fall I set a stone upon a stone, As autumn rain dripped tears upon the grave That marks the spot where lie my lover's bones; And wind tossed fallen leaves like rolling waves. A mourning dove atop a nearby tree, Alone in grief,...

  An Ode to the Indian Soldiers ottava rima Be choking chill or burning heat; be rain or sleet; thou're there O soldier brave to save thy brethren sleeping sound inland, sans pain. Thy eyes surveying every crest and cave; the crooked snowy paths and frozen plain; forgot a wink,...

for Robert Conquest I. Each day Naftaly greets a prison train. Two days ago: spies and reactionaries, yesterday: kulaks from Ukraine, this morning: counter-revolutionaries. Snug in his fur behind militia guards who hold thick water hoses in the snow, he looks at blue-lipped prisoners in cars, exposed to frost of...

Paperboys lack actual colleagues, but I was a part-time paper boy, and my mother, a part-time colleague. When I’d oversleep, or in bad weather, she’d rescue me from the steep daily grind. “Leave the bike home. I’ll drive, to save time.” That was all; guilt trips were not her way....

By Sam Gilliland The Poisoned Chalice Let he who lips me then beware, My potion’s more than honeyed mead, One sip, I shall your soul ensnare, Death conquers all, so take you heed! It is a foolhardy enterprise to embark upon a venture so obviously doomed to failure that the...

I Keep A Different List My neighbor counts his losses and his gains, but I keep track of raindrops when it rains; he makes note of coins and dollar bills while I am watching ants upon their hills; while he is in the office making money, I go out among...

The Great Living Hell On Communism Under the radar I fly Thru' an ever more darkening sky Thru' the smoke from the volumes that burned Thru' the silence of lessons unlearned Thru' the sound of the shattering glass Thru' the thoughts of the mindless I pass Thru' the dust of the statues that...

By Con Chapman Boston may no longer be the Hub of the Universe, but its Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area remains the undisputed capital of America in at least one respect—home of suicidal poetesses. The western suburbs, where I live, form American poetry’s Bermuda Triangle. Sylvia Plath, raised in Wellesley, took...

  For Bishop Berkeley & for Madman Blake First, the wind; then, the waves; then the shore —but the Mind—yes, the Mind—long before. First, darkness; then, ignition; then the light —but Vision—yes, Vision—long before sight. First, nowhere; then, somewhere; then everywhere —each here—each there—like a visual prayer. First, the past;...

Any treatise claiming critical review of verse, whether in the widest sense, or, as in this case, the result of compressed choice, purely down to the author’s own consideration, I hasten to add, is probably deigned to fail as an intelligent summation of poetry penned by John Keats. That said,...

The Morning Muse This time of day the Muses pass As rolling clouds and dewy grass, To see their handouts properly bestowed. How much I’ve felt and ever feel That writhing impulse in me reel When dawn's first grayer hues begin to glow. And if I had the craft to...

The poetry of Fray Angelico Chavez can be read here. By Joseph Charles MacKenzie Fray Angélico Chávez, O.F.M. (1910-1996) remains the most important poet of New Mexico’s modern history. It is precisely by virtue of this gifted priest, polymath, historian, author, and painter, that we in New Mexico are able...

A Slice of Eden A mango tart broke my heart dark one stormy day because it said I'd be dead if I touched its glaze, & lotus cake made me ache late one luckless night because it cried when I tried taking one small bite, & once when I slyly...

  Another Cakewalk Mark Twain may not be safe to read, at least in public places, Because he gawks with foolish words at human folly's faces; But take a moment to digest (puts iron in your belly) His words of outrage in defence of outraged Mrs. Shelley: "The slave of...

  For honor! For valor! The battle stole and won Where up the soul arises down the barrel of a gun The courses set and forces met with destined blood and bones But I, I fear, am fated here to never journey home Tell my wife I love her Send...

by Dusty Grein The Man The American poet Robert Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco, CA. He spent his first 40 years mostly unknown, and it wasn’t until after returning to the United States from England—where he had his first two books of poetry published—near the...

  Narcissus Saw Himself Only Once “Due to the poor quality, high cost, and small size of these ancient glass mirrors, solid metal-mirrors primarily of steel were usually preferred until the late nineteenth century.” ~Wikipedia, “Mirror” I wonder if improvements in the way That mirrors show us beauty in our...

When I speak of history I speak well; I leave behind the past where broken bones Lay scattered on blistering sands to tell Of atrocities that are mostly groans. While you may feel the pain lurking inside With hurt failing any impunity; And browse pages upon pages to ride This...

The Function of the Poet Tanslation by David Bellemare Gosselin God summons him in times gone awry When each can’t will, but serves his duty. For pity to him who to all his brothers Declares his future in the desert wanders. Pity to him who wears his sandals And treads...

  Tikkun Olam*  His mouth agape, as though still asking questions, the Tsar lies at the end of his long reign. (Blue lips almost struggle to explain, caught in the halfway realm of last expressions.) The Empress sprawls, hands crossing her stained bodice. Behind her rest the bayoneted heirs, blood...

  A Country Song (for my wife's birthday) I'm no longer young and strong and things take me twice as long Might not hear you when you call and I don't stand quite so tall Seasons change and so do we as most any fool can see Pride can blind us to...

  Kudzu* Yes, I creep to cover, smother, choking greenery like no other. I am Kudzu taking over places once filled deep in clover, trees and bushes, vines entwining; each within my path declining. Little fazed by drought or drenching; thirst for space there is no quenching. In the brightness...

John Milton (Born December 9, 1608 – died November 8, 1674) was an English poet of the late Renaissance period. He is most noted for his epic poem on the fall of Satan and Adam and Eve’s ejection from the Garden of Eden, Paradise Lost, which he composed after having gone...

(All poems by Bruce Dale Wise) Another Mass Murder in the News by Bilee Wad Curse He was an atheist who called churchgoers "stupid" on his Facebook pages where he posted "She's a bad bitch" gun, an AR-15 semiautomatic that he used to murder at least twenty-six in bloody-hell diffused....

  A Hardcover Book Carrying a hardcover book instead of a small electronic tool I get polite, benevolent smiles seemingly reserved for the old; people ask, “How old’s your Bible?” as if following some rule. I’m asked it so often I’m disappointed if not asked—you’ll find it easy to believe...

  Inscription on the Golden Gate, Constantinople (Translation) Commemorating Emperor Theodosius' Victory over the usurper, Maximus, at the Battle of the Save in 388 AD. Theodosius was the last emperor to rule over both the Eastern and Western Roman Empire.  These acres Theodosius gilded on the Tyrant's fate; He brought...

  Just west of old Ben Lomond, high and gray, a downy-heathered island on a loch did soak our feet before we rowed away for western shores, to find a little dock in Luss. A pot of tea to warm our bones, and meat pies, piping hot, our stomachs fill....

Sweet Recollections an awdl gywydd Tea time, just my mom and me… ___memories so sweet and dear, knowing I was her first choice; ___still her voice is crystal clear. Some of my favorite hours. ___fresh cut flowers in a vase, aroma drifting after, ___her bright laughter giving chase. Drinks poured...

  Canzone 4 For Bob Hunter I am your eyes now, imaging memories, Amiens, Ypres, Flanders and the Somme; And in my secret world the pale dawn holds Out her hand bearing gifts that sight unfolds; But you have seen men in the sacred rites Of death, limbs twisted, bones...

  End Rhyme Send in a poem they pretentiously beckon But they will not read any rhyming of rhymes There's no place now for creative wordsmithing Prose is the darling, full of self absorbed whines The obtuse, the indulgent, the prosaic, they'll read And heap platitudes endlessly, on genius they'll...

  Rioja is a land of wine. It’s famous in both fact and fable. It’s really not okay to dine Without a bottle of that fine Rioja beverage on your table! Now, it is red, full-bodied, sweet, A wine that’s either old or young. For young, the price cannot be...