Humor

  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...

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...

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,...

 (All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Am-air-ica by Eber L. Aucsidew Die Welt proclaimed the biggest drop in CO2 was in America, in the first year of Donald Trump—no spin. Though worldwide emissions grew by 1.4 percent, they fell in UK, Mexico, Japan, and the US. The IEA released its...

On looking into the mirror one afternoon An old buzzard once came and he knocked on my heart, And politely he asked to come in for a while. He had said he was looking for carrion to eat, “Oh no problem”, I answered, and gave him a smile. Then I...

  Goose Sense A burden and a bore I must have been; As handy as another leg, I'd slouch The farm in borrowed overalls, and when My chores were done I'd nap on grandpa's couch. I thought of books and girls and being cool, Of anything but crops and barns...

  I knew her when I could be called a youth And life had not uncovered certain truths Apparent to detectives, super-sleuths; Such as ‘Best clues are found within untruth.’ For boasting of a car with plushest trim, Expensive belted tires, alloy rims, Made me no better than deceptive crims...

A tribe of trolls escaped their cage! Now rabid wrath and rancor rage. Hurling hurt from hidden hellholes (most notably, their toilet bowls), they flush their filth across your page … Anonymity sets the stage for this word-“warrior” rampage as today’s internet unrolls a tribe of trolls … Let’s hail...

The Fall Now, if you’re sitting comf’tably, then listen to my ballad; it is a Summer evening tale of pizza and of salad. “I’ll take the plates out, love,” I said, "for your hands tend to shake, but I am steadier and I’d hate the crockery to break." The threshold...

  You caught me staring at you yesterday, or so it seemed, for you—you smiled and blushed and all your girlfriends giggled in the hushed and stilted silence of the lecture. They had to have seen me staring your way too, slackjawed (old love has always been a child), transfixed...

After Joachim du Bellay’s "Les Regrets LXVIII" I hate the Florentines' foul avarice, I hate lewd Sienese profanity, I hate Geneva's glib duplicity, I hate malign Venetian artifice, I hate whate'er Ferrara does amiss, I hate the Lombards' infidelity And Neapolitan diversity, And lazy Rome's loquacious cowardice. I hate how...

The neologist bakes the cake, The iconoclast shreds the recipe Deems the structure all a fake, But powerless against euphony, Leaves empty gestures in his wake. Arthur Lamar Mitchell © 2017   Arthur Lamar Mitchell has a recently completed novel – ‘A Grotto in the Sea;’ Poetry set to music...

The Cymbal Player As bows and fingers quiver strings, as lungs and lips whip up the air, as notes soar on great falcon wings, one player, seated in his chair like a finch hid in a maple tree, as if the creature wouldn’t dare trill out above the symphony (perhaps...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch in vacant mood I lie I feel their wealthy fluttering draw near. I see them toss their heads like twinkling stars; A sparkling, sprightly, jocund company. I gaze, I gaze,...

It’s a vicious process, sonnet writing. It seems as every time I near the goal a syllable or rhyme eludes me, rendering my poetry somewhat droll. I feel empathy for those who struggle and a growing sense of hate for masters, those who can weave such beautiful meaning into these...

He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. The misreporting of great Caesar’s death Errs by one gross omission. We’re not told That when conspirators bared blades to strike, Caesar’s well-practiced military eye Glimpsed the quick flash of metal. He reacted As any soldier would, and cried aloud “Why,...

Which Is the Grandest Name of All? Which is the grandest name of all? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Winter sere or crimson fall Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Who held bold freedom’s flag so high Who gave brass tyrants all the lie Who forged in us the strength to die? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill!...

There once was a girl named Shelly. who bought a pet fish by the deli. But to her surprise, with fear in her eyes, she saw the fish dead on its belly.   Annie Acho Tartoni is a student Mercy High School in Farmington Hills, Michigan.

Insomnia Many's the night I lie in bed with words to write that fill my head. They twist and turn and jump and shout. Oh how I yearn to get them out! So off I go into my den. With lights turned low I lift my pen. At last I'm...

Those Days and These “‘. . . Macbeth does murther sleep.’” —William Shakespeare If only such a villain were __Alone in this regard, The course of human history __Would prove to be less hard. Mythology and scripture are __Replete with deadly deeds Conducted by those seeking to __Meet wants as...

Flower of Choice On native Australian flowers The wattle bears her gold in early spring As luminescent beads on woody strings, Spreading perfume ‘til the mild air brings Sweetness deep to every living thing. Diverting our attention from the gold, The waratah with fiery head unfolds Above alternate leaves each...

  How wonderful of God to hold us together, When man is prone to tear us part, Said the surgical student thoughtfully, As he practiced his learned art.   Jennifer Hinders lives outside Washington, DC. She’s an instructional assistant and part time freelance writer.  To see her publications, view  her...

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wandered, drunk and weary, Over many a quaint and dimlit alley of forgotten doors— While I plodded, barely standing, suddenly I heard a chanting, As of someone softly ranting, ranting from the darkened doors. “It’s some other drunk,” I muttered, “chanting from the...

    Sort of Old I take my senior discount at restaurants and stores. I cover up my gray hairs with Clairol reservoirs My bathroom’s filled with potions I slather on my face. AHAs and Retinols are things that I embrace. No longer do I tuck in my skirts and...

Truman Capote was fired from his job as a copy boy for The New Yorker after he angered Robert Frost. Whose kid this is, I do not know, He seems to have a job here, though. He’s irritating, and quite fey, If they ask me, he’s got to go. He...

  Perked Coffee Things today are bad and getting worse, examples always seem to us abound: service for consumers seems perverse, and music does not have that vinyl sound. My garden pruners, they don’t last one season, and dealers’ auto service seems a scam, the prices for my phone plan...

  On Reading Ginsburg’s “Howl” Once, I possessed an open mind, Which I assure you was my own. I used it to read Ginsberg’s “Howl” Well, I don’t wish to be unkind But those words seemed randomly sown. My first reaction was a scowl. So I tried a second reading....

  On President Trump’s First Year in Office An earlier version of this poem was published with an explication in The Epoch Times. In Donald Trump we’ve found a man Who can the tides of time withstand, A seasoned duke, of vision strong, Who sees the picture hard and long. He...

We New Yorkers love our real estate. We measure our bliss by the size of our rooms. We all need a place to park our freight. We apartment hunt on our first date in vacated spaces swept with a broom New Yorkers live for real estate. We speak mortgage point...

  The Oddity My pen and me set off to sea but washed up feeling useless; the cadent swell invoked a spell and story of Odysseus. While pen-wrecked there I would not hear those rhythmic words like Circe's; this poem must be Penelope and I a new Ulysses.   Seventy...

By James A. Tweedie These days, William Cowper (November 26, 1731 - April 25, 1800) isn’t likely to be found on anyone’s list of “Top Twenty English Poets.” Fifty years after his death, however, three competing collections of his poetical works continued to sell with over 100,000 copies in print....

  Glacier Sleeping mistress of the land, Whose long repose the ages span, We tread across your fissured gown Until we find in looking down, We can at last discern and trace The chiseled beauty of your face, Where frozen tresses fresh with snow Across your granite shoulders flow. We...

  A Great Divide "...to form a more perfect union" I walk to the edge of a great divide and I try to talk with the other side but they do not reciprocate they tell me that I'm filled with hate I stand at the point of no return and...

. . Winter Wore a Raiment White Winter wore a raiment white, Checkered blue as snow in shade, As he worked, amid the leaves, In the Autumn golden sheaves, Soon my season’s time will come, Ever cool and never glum, Winter wore his raiment white, Checkered blue he took delight,...

  The Exclusive Inclusive I heard about a tender troop, Whose commission was to give Love like a ministry serves soup; They seemed, oh, so inclusive. This sounded like the group for me; Yes, I wished to be aligned. To join, they said, would cost a fee, A small price...

  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...

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 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...

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...