Poetry

Thank you to everyone who participated! Judges Dusty Grein, Michael Curtis, and Damian Robin have selected the below winners for the first Rhyming Riddle Contest. Judge Curtis said meter was important: "Poets may pun, and poets may rhyme, Poets may riddle, yet must keep the time." Judge Grein said he...

  To Solitude Come, Solitude, my first and truest friend! Long hours of careless converse burden me, And I have need of hospitality Such as art thou alone meet with to lend. What synthesis my past encounters blend, What sweetness in the cup of memory Or bitter bile, I taste...

  What heights within my mind descend? To fall on peaks where faith shall end, As summits fail to comprehend, That lands beneath cannot ascend, The pinnacles my thoughts transcend. As inspirations aimed to call, Upon our heavened dreams enthralled. And knock upon its door for all, The altitudes no...

  Windmill Song Alone it shudders on a hill, Defiant in the wind. A strong south gale could topple it, A hard rain do it in. Too many years its silver blades Whirled in the morning breeze While spinning far across the plains A song it spun with ease. Those...

On Visiting the Tea Garden in Middletown, New York I. A harried daddy with two kids in tow, Maneuvering through city streets and cars, I look around quite nervously for crows Whose filthy bombs my head before had marred. I dashed in through the front door of the place, A...

By C.B. Anderson Anyone writing formal poetry today has to be grateful for the arsenal of fixed forms—most of them bequeathed to us from masters of the past—that is available to lend structure to poetic ideas.  Where would we be without the villanelle, the heroic couplet, or the mighty sonnet? ...

A Villanelle To breathe the beaming silence of the sky I long, when dawn’s chill wakes my eyes, and see The oft-unseen yet boundless peace on high. When slumber’s velvety dim moments die, Pale crowds rush back and forth, although unfree To breathe the beaming silence of the sky; For...

  Untitled All older statues want to come alive, Those Greek and Roman ones, and Christian, too. Their skeletons and veins and muscles strive To break through marble skin.  They want their blue Eyes once again to see the world of living flesh. They want to sweat in love and...

I. My brain just came back from the laundry they tell me it's perfectly clean and it's thinking the way it's supposed to though I'm not really sure what they mean They tell me I shouldn't be troubled not really a cause for concern my sessions are soon to be doubled and there's nothing...

A Lifetime Day drifts into evening Evening into night All around me darkness With only stars for light Dawn awakes the morning The morning burst into day The cycle never ceasing Black to white to gray The rhythms of each moment The seasons of each year Time goes on forever...

Upon the release of the Society’s How to Write Classical Poetry   When feeling some compulsion to compose, One wonders which of many forms to choose, Then tends to favor what one really knows, Where there is little left to gain or lose. But one may wait to see how process...

For Elizabeth On the Poet’s Eleventh Wedding Anniversary   Though you behold me silent in this room, Know that I walk in fields of fresh-cut hay; Though I be still, my thoughts like roses bloom And run with clouds across the vault of day. The west wind summons me beyond...

  The Devil's New Mission The Devil went to every single school Across America to find a Faust— But no one wanted knowledge. Each dim fool Stared at a phone—the Devil could not roust A one to lust for power, wisdom, art— None could be tempted for none had a...

The important events in the life of Gaius Valerius Catullus (84-54 B.C.) are recounted through the poems he has left. The particular poem below was written on his return from Asia Minor, where he had attempted at a public career by following Memmius, the patron of the poet Lucretius, into...

Inside the Dragon’s Teeth Maui, Hawaii From inside, you get a new perspective ___Of the tourist spot known as Dragon’s Teeth. The people who write about such things give ___This place, which lies on the ocean beneath A golf course and ritzy hotel, a dull, ___Scientific description: “Lava flow, Met...

After the Peloponnesian Wars: a Microcosm A Villanelle At last I grasp what I could never get: As long as man has heart, hope can exist. Doom’s not your only master, then. And yet for years I thought―thought hard, without regret― the reverse, as fatalist and humanist. But now I...

It has long been observed that whilst the ego is useful in making daily and ordinary decisions in our life, it is less effective when it comes to more important issues; it is by nature competitive, and it tends to subordinate the greater good for more immediate gains and self-gratification....

  When, late in May, Memorial Day ____Inaugurates the season Of summer sun and summer fun ____(Much welcomed, with good reason), Then nature’s crowned with sight and sound: ____The sky is bright and clear, The flowers’ blooms and birds’ bright plumes ____Proclaim that summer’s here. The birds cheer on the...

Unshaken Faith Forward Alliterative verse dedicated to Falun Gong practitioners who have faced persecution in China since July 20, 1999   The ground was broken, crusty, cracked for miles and miles, and ever on, and in the distance, black clouds called out death and doom, from Hell they hailed. The...

LVII. On a Bodegón of Zurbarán From carbon darkness, splendor! Light comes forth. A painter knew the warm fidelity Of lemons pointing east and west and north, And praised the Thornless Rose’s purity. Two silver patens, oranges enthroned, A crown of blossoms and ascending leaves, The rounded basket, finest that...

  At last, the sunset’s knell forebodes the ceasing day— The merchants in their silken garments trudge their way Along, with Turkish camels and Koranic tunes. Diurnal light retreats from dromedary’s dunes, And Bedouins arrive, commencing ev’ning hours And drive their caravans across Saharan bow’rs Where fading clouds announce the...

  And What Of Art? It used to be that there was a division Between the arts, and each had segments, too. A poem was just a poem, required revision, A painter mixed his colors – blue was blue, And didn’t need some trash, or added gravel To make it...

Dante’s Inferno, Canto I (Poem by Dante Alighieri / translation by J. Simon Harris in terza rima) In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself again in a dark forest, for I had lost the pathway straight and right. Ah how hard it is to describe,...

To Liu Xiaobo by Morgan Downs Xiaobo—you are from hence forever gone. Meanwhile, your executioners remain. Even now, they overcast where you have lain And scrape as best they can your measure on An ignominious oblivion, Hunting after an afterlife—in vain. The cudgel and the prison may profane What has...

On the Special Meeting of the Manchester City Council (Wed. 12th of July, 2017) to reflect on the terrible events that took place at the Manchester Arena on the 22nd of May   Amendments and agendas put aside to mark the memory of those who died; the damaged lives of that...

By Joshua Philipp The poetry of John Keats is known for its light and dreamy nature. Even in his time, in the early 1800s, he was considered old-fashioned, both in his topics and in his style of writing. He was set in sharp contrast to one of his contemporaries, Lord...

  A wind blew through the almond trees. The blossoms shook, the petals floated down Past where I sat on the cliffs above the sea. The waves reminded me a bit of the mounds Of snow I’d left behind, if only for a week. The locals though were wrapped in...

Why Live This Long? The thought presents - Why live this long? What more to do, Once sung my song? The arch of life Made sense to me. With work in hand - While serving Thee. Great tasks complete, Hills have been scaled. Success achieved - Opponents failed. I turn...

  Potpourri Take leaves at first, curled crisp by autumn’s cold— Crush them to crumbly powder in a tray To make a simple palette of decay In varied tints of brown and red and gold. Next flower petals, multicolored, bold In stark chromatic contrasts—dry and bray Them in a mortar...

Epistle to a Celt Where, o Celt, mayst thou be found Upon what all was once thy ground? Art thou of thy majestic race The last to bear a mortal face? Thy speech and runes thou scornst to learn, Which memory can scarce discern. In splintered nave, the Celtic Cross...

  It could be a horse thief, or maybe a rustler, A card shark, a pimp, or a sleazy-eyed hustler. A finish on wood that can add to its luster Or moisture on metal that causes some ruster. A Crème Brulee, or a Bavarian custard, French sauce delicious with finest...

This poem is written in response to proposals to sell ancient public forests to private developers in England. https://saveourwoods.co.uk/   Oh, site where forest now is laid – Why take the suite of forest dreams? And live on angry air and claim. Oh, site where forest now is laid –...

Post your patriotic July  4th poetry in the comments section below. by Usa W. Celebride "The cement of this union is the heart-blood of every American." —Thomas Jefferson The 4th Day of July, America, hey, celebrates! with fireworks and flags, the birth of these United States. Traditional Americans sing patriotic...

  "Our Creator contritely comprehends that the ancient story of Genesis once retold through a patriarchal lens, has become women's patient nemesis ... Despite Eve's fleeting transgressing, our Eternal Lord, lovingly present still deems the Daughters of Eve a blessing, rendering orders their harmers repent! Harsh is the shared punishment God shall...

It's Best to Be a Giver It’s best to be a giver, not a taker, Or else how could you ever face your Maker? When time is due and Judgment Day is here, You look in your Lord’s eyes, and have no fear, You know your heart is pure and...

RULES: A riddle for your thoughts? Write a rhyming riddle, any length and paste it in the comments section below with your name and area of residence. Do not include the answer. Let people guess and then respond at your discretion. One submission per contestant. Submissions should be originally written just...

  Three children stood below a tree That sprouted fruit abundantly; They sought to seize the luscious fruit, These hungry children in pursuit. One child could reach the middle height, One the lowest, to her delight, But one, alas, stretched up in vain— The prize was too high to obtain....

The Akkerman Steppe Original Polish by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855) below I launch myself across the dry and open narrows, My carriage plunging into green as if a ketch, Floundering through the meadow flowers in the stretch. I pass an archipelago of coral yarrows. It’s dusk now, not a road in...

Poem for a Birthday Say that the year is round, and on its top March lighted candles in concentric rows. They drip their wax, which hardens on the heart As birthdays pass, and most of us suppose That all we ask is just some time to stop, Regroup, remit the...

Inspired by the Ashland, Oregon, Shakespeare Festival Narrator: William Shakespeare—Shakspere? Shaksper? Shakespear? Shackespeare? Shake-and-Bake-speare?—died but did not Go to heaven. Sent instead to town called Ashland where, in purgatorial shame, Was forced to spend eternity in watching Every play that bore his name replayed, Replayed and played again in time-looped glory;...