Poetry

  If poets are supposed to write of death then let me O! poetically regret the beating heart abruptly stopped, the breath that falls like lead upon the coverlet. Let me intone the soft and wistful sighs attendant on unwarranted demise; and taste the tear that springs up unawares when...

  As autumn breezes blow away The warmth of summer’s sun, Then shortened is the light of day When we had danced as one. The prelude to the winter snow Is sung by icy rain, The rosiness of dawn’s soft glow Usurped by cloudy stains. The bitter winds strip off...

  A wondrous thing that happens as your exit becomes near, is that “long-term” consequences need not cause you fear! Bottom line: there’s no “long-term” when soon you’ll meet your savior! The construct becomes meaningless, so why restrain behavior? Melanoma matters not, go bask in the bright sun. Enjoy your favorite cigarette after the tanning’s done. Who cares...

after Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" __Once upon an evening dreary, I searched for news, at least in theory, Over many a dubious and mendacious channel that I abhor— __While I surfed, nearly barfing, suddenly there came a harping, __There was someone roughly berating, berating everything I stand for. “‘Tis some moron,”...

Pinhead While sitting on a pinhead __Stuck in an angel's wing Holding still a piece of thread __I tap my head to think, I tap again, to no avail, __It seems I have forgot The answer to the riddle, __“If not, then what?”   A Single Blade of Grass A...

a villanelle Be still now and let them go. Their trials and losses fade away. Briefly, they were yours to sow. Children stumble, cry, and grow. They are young and so they stray. Be still now and let them go. Work the ground and sweat and hoe; Plant them for...

  Here Comes the Hybrid Bus Here comes that brand new hybrid bus Round the street so pretty; It's length so long it makes the turn, And bends right round the city. It's certainly looking very clean, All spic and span and bright; Too bad that not a single soul...

on the state of poetry today I see the threads have all aligned __In a patchwork tapestry That seemed at first all but resigned __To the death of poetry. The colors of the patchwork poems, __Splendid though each of them seems, Are mismatched swaths cut off from homes, __Fraying fast...

Traditional Sacred Polyphonist of England Wilton! Could music make the dead to rise, Spare life its toil, move wills from sloth, Bind happy lovers in their troth, Or lift a heart to soar upon the skies, Rather would I your holy strains to hear, That breathe of the eternal life...

Ms. Hayden, On Your Selection of Our Next Poet Laureate: For poetry to rise again Seek one who has applied the pen To that which all can understand, To verse which is sublime and grand. Choose one who writes for all to read, Who is from all pretension freed, Who...

Politician or Poet When in one’s soul the politician calls forth – The poet’s voice withers and comes to naught. And poems become a bedlam of propaganda Praising the party’s agenda. The poet’s pain…  His cruel fate… Has brought censorship and hate. He’s now consumed with different fires… Only the...

The Hindu's Lament As I passed a lonely temple in the after-evening glow, On the banks of the Ganges where the quiet waters flow, When the sun had sunk to rest and cool softness touched the air, I saw a dark-skinned Indian and I heard him chant this prayer: Bhagwan! ...

To Chavistas You profit off the indignance of the poor just like the imperial loansharks you denounce, you’ve murdered trees and poisoned lakes and swore the water’s safe to drink then gloat to announce: “Capitalist pollution is no more!”— by rubbing on the oil-genie underground who, along with opposition blood...

by James A. Tweedie My interest in Sapphic verse arose from a discussion thread on an SCP post some months ago. I researched the subject and decided to try my hand at it. Recently, I submitted my poem to SCP and had it returned along with a suggestion that I...

  When born, they said he came into the light! He realised soon it's another kind of gloom, where innocence had lost to odious blight and wisdom went crisscross in carnal looms. With his one foot on earth and one in space he strived too long thinking of his perdu...

The Poet's Soul with Artful Pen Few will read with understanding What the poet is intending. Nouns and verbs are still concealing Concepts with a double meaning. Adjectives, and adverbs too, Are used in ways that men find new. A word familiar with strange ending Pirouettes on what's portending. Misty...

Not how we're seen but what we do determines beauty's stride, for seeds of virtue catered to are planted deep inside. Not what we see but how perceived in nature's many sides determines how the world's received as force of will collides. Not when we do but why we strive...

Cell Block Twenty-Nine I haven’t seen the sun for days, Nor felt Compassion’s gentle ways; My body’s weak, but courage stays, In Cell Block Twenty-Nine. They tell me “Falun Gong’s a lie!” And if I don’t renounce, I’ll die For price of liver, lung, or eye, In Cell Block Twenty-Nine....

by Usa W. Celebride The pilgrims were a persecuted group—for their beliefs— so they were willing for a chance, a hope for some relief. They made the risky voyage to America by ship. A crew that didn't care for them, for money took the trip. But when they got to Massachusetts in...

Attentive to the dawning light, a poem has much in common with a plant: the crown delivers photosynthate through the phloem to earthbound roots—as thoughts are channeled down to partner up with images (concrete ones are preferred) from native stock; from roots the living water is conveyed to meet essential...

AQI: Hazardous Outside, the air is filled with smoke and ash So thick the nearby mountains can’t be seen; Bright red and purple colors on the map Warn that the air we breathe’s no longer clean. In San Jose, the current AQI (Air Quality, an Index I now know) Stands...

Much too small for a plow, __but I dig anyhow __till there’s sweat on my brow __from the weeds that I fight. I know others may yawn __at that part of my lawn __that I spend my time on, __but it brings me delight. At the end of the day,...

  The Hallowed Halls of Know-It-Alls are filled with varied creatures who learn the ropes from other dopes who pride themselves as teachers. They pontificate, obfuscate, and pose as if important– while words they use and oft-abuse are no less than abhorrent. They just don’t care about the glare from...

…a contemporary application of Pope’s wisdom I’ve sent illegal immigrants to splash around your pool, to raid your pantry, watch tv, because I know you’re cool. They’ll realize you’re not upset by sharing your success; that you are fair and really care, and not the least distressed. Next week I’m...

Presented by Monty Phillips Given that the recent days have been rightfully occupied by the remembering of the humans who never made it home from World War 1, I thought I might highlight a less represented species; many of whom also never made it home from that War. It’s said...

The Garden of Life In wee, assuring spans of sunlit day, The sun awakened, rides his carriage fast To paint with crimson every corner passed, To cheer the silent buds of torrid May. My garden here in wintry menace shakes, While neither spring nor summer visit once; The busy bee...

  I am a university in the U.S. of A. Becoming more dependent on Red China every day. We seek out Chinese students for the money that they bring, While the Confucius Institutes keep propagandizing. We bow and scrape to please that country’s communist elite, And neither say nor do...

  On sunny days We’re filled with “me.” “I’m on my own And feeling free!” We have our job, And casual friends. The world feels strong Like it won’t end. Then clouds roll in, And lightning, too. Our plans all fail; Life’s bills come due. A friendship fades. A lover...

inspired by the Book of Hebrews To carry close a fishing net of gold or sea-green thread, __a-woven by some skillful hands, with ruby borders bound, a massive net, with onyx weights, and glass-blown floats, deep red – __against one’s chest to press this, while it drapes cascading down. To...

(A liberal-socialist primer for our youngest, most impressionable comrades) Note: 'take the other bus' is a slang term for homosexual behavior. Come gather round me, little ones: you bourgeois girls, suburban sons. I am your teacher, leader, czar; get on my bus and we’ll go far. America is wrong, you...

At Dusk At dusk, when high above the darkening trees, __The swallows in the deep blue dip and soar, As if in flying higher, still to squeeze __The last delicious moments that before ____The light into the West steals off and dies, ____I dream that they are dancing for my...

Choose Wisely Calling for the next U.S. Poet Laureate to be a traditional rhyming poet A double refrained chant royal in iambic pentameter O harken to my plea, as I implore, from need, true classic poetry to save. Sweet words in rhyming rhythms we adore, and metered lines, like those...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) U.S. Midterm Election 2018 by Brice U. Lawseed There wasn't any blue wave, nor a red wall; but instead the House was painted blue, the Senate turned a brighter red. America continued its divided government, since Washington was first proclaimed the US President. Our...

  Behold the cloud-graced monoliths That stretch against the sky Into the boundless sanctity Where wind swift eagles fly. Primal valleys bloom to life As tumbling waters sing, Resurrected from the heights Where ancient glaciers cling. Time is without measure In a world no one can claim; Blessèd be the...

  "Write on!" the Masters from the shadows cried. "By your thin air we breathe, nor ever died; Your modest dress, our glorious raiment shares And witness to our sun, your candle bears. "Ignored, reviled, by fashion shut away, We are not stilled, nor sleep as common clay; We are...

When formal poets come to me for advice, I do my best to be helpful. I can comment on metrics and diction and syntactical choice. I try to avoid discussing subject matter since that is in the realm of personal invention and inspiration. Nevertheless, if a poet earnestly asks about...

  The Age of Poetry They say that poetry’s a young man’s game, indulged while still limber, lithe, and healthy enough to dance all night with energy. Without concern for funding and fickle fame, artists, in their youth, burning with passion’s flame, can better ignore the bruises of poverty, the...

by James Sale Carol Smallwood In the Measuring is a substantial new collection of 77 poems by Carol Smallwood. Carol is well-known to readers of The Society of Classical Poets, as her poems regularly appear on its site; and furthermore, she is a well-respected and widely published poet throughout the...

  In Officio Exsequarium Come, let us bid the last of our farewells To one who sleeps on the retiring ship; November’s breath respires the mournful knells; “Lord, give him rest” is murmured lip to lip. What is our life, if not a morning dew, A flash of light upon...

Autumn Wind by Yuan Xi, translated by Jennifer Zeng and Damian Robin From far off, Autumn wind runs at us in a rush! Across a thousand miles, displacing clouds with sky, (And crowding through the dark, tense soldiers in a hush), Then past the cliff, through countless pines, like echoes...