Poetry

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;...

  When dusk settles, the oxalis Stands taller and sweeter, As if to say that all of this Is just Nature’s theater, The butterfly-shaped purple leaves Are an actor's costume, Which fans out in royal sheaves And is soaked in perfume.   Julia Geaney-Moore is a Psychology and English major....

The Muses we understand from Part 1 of this article are the daughters of the future and the past, and more specifically of memory, light, truth and beauty; they are essential for the ‘good life’, and we understand as well that because they are goddesses, they cannot be summoned by...

. . What Rumor, What Word? On the featured photo above What rumor, what word, O Cloud from the sea? Cumulus, Nimbus: what sayest thou to me? But human and man; the simplest I be, And found ruminating, mine interest would thee, O quench, with thy speech, and earnest me...

  Riddle Two Now give these lines a gander Be you bold enough to try Find fun, full-fashioned candor Take care. Some smart cells may fry On this surface so smooth In perfect timing we move Useful when your hair’s in a tussle Though I own not one single muscle...

  In a secluded forest glade, Where sunlight shines and shadows fade, The faeries come to dance and play Upon a bright warm summer’s day. Light are their footsteps, quick their feet On shimmering wings, they do fleet. Throughout the glade, clear voices ring; The songs of faerie folk they...

By Joshua Philipp The Italian poet Dante Alighieri is best known for his journey into hell, purgatory, and heaven which he told of in his "Divine Comedy." But before he took that journey, he took a very different, although in some ways very similar, journey into the world of longing,...

27 November 1976: Fort Eustis, Virginia By Usa W. Celebride It is an autumn Saturday. I sit amidst the scree, of dry, brown, crackly leaves, against the rough bark of a tree. The Sun casts out long shadows. It's a time of purity, of rest, of realism, grandeur and simplicity. I...

  Déja Do you remember when a piece of art Held truth or meaning in its oil or stone— And beauty even?  Paintings would impart Aesthetic truth and not just some sweet tone Of glowing like a Rothko, luminous But void like Close Encounters of the Third Kind’s shimmer.  Artefacts were numinous Like...

Post your poetry on the recent terrorist attacks in England in the comments section at the end of this post.   The Light of New Hope By Connie Phillips I. Bombings, beheadings, bizarre wanton slashings; Babies are burning, their mothers all dead; Fathers are bleeding, and die ’mid the ashes;...

By Sandeep Kumar Mishra There are two things that came to my mind when I read the book Hare Krishna by Mahathi: First, in this modern era in which every person thinks himself a poet, the shape, size and sweetness of the traditional poetry has been lost. Now, it is an...

  Taking a Gambol A rabbit’s life’s a gambol, A fortunate existence; Giving time enough to spare For frolics in the bramble, Bunny-hops from here to there, Some chewing for subsistence. But in dreary contrast we Refuse to twitch our noses At sweet treasures given free - The perfume of...

Thank you to everyone who participated in the Funny Food Poetry Contest, including Judges Michael Curtis, Lorna Davis, William Ruleman, James Sale, and Bruce Dale Wise. We had quite a number of people serendipitously break the 14-line limit rule and thus created an entire category for them, which you will...

The tears of a nation are shared by us all, We stand with those countries whom terror befalls; The innocent taken, destroyed by the vile, Their heinous objectives we can’t reconcile, Or count them as acts of religious devotion; No God promotes terror, their piety’s a notion To falsely give...

I Think I Like You Better Now I think I like you better now; it’s been a little while Since first you took my breath away with just a passing smile. When love was fresh and new and fast, before life took its toll-- I think I like you better...

The Flowers Upon a morning stroll serene Across many young floral gardens Greeting me on those fields of green Was the red rose who all love pardons. The humming bird about it flutters The bees its sweet soft hues admire But I hear a miser who mutters As storms prepare...

Penelope’s Postscript Uncounted days, wrung dry of tears— Lost wanderers do not return: So much for the departed years. Heap up my mangled hopes and fears, Leave Ithaka to mock and spurn Uncounted days. Wrung dry of tears I shut from my importuned ears The suitors’ pleas. How could I...

Tipton County, Tennessee, 1917 My great-grandfather cut down huge black oaks Whose stumps his two young sons helped him uproot, Each some Yggdrasil yielding to the strokes Of manic axes in their mad pursuit Of Paradise providing ample fruit, A man with two boys made to work as men, Their...

Ephemeral Constant With hued music, beautified page. His spheres were thinner than gossamer, Only to beauty, did Keats defer. Was omni-sensory, ahead of his age, Gifted synesthete; few could gauge. Lines between realities could he blur, With Psyche, or nightingale easily confer. Complex were stanzas, of youthful sage. ‘Cockney’ image...

By Joseph Charles MacKenzie James Sale, whom I happen to consider England’s best on the subject, states: “To write poetry with any degree of power, and to create true beauty without which the effort is vain, requires form and discipline.” Of form and discipline our poet is never in want....

  Sonnet IV. Edward the Confessor Edward, the Cross no more on England’s shores Thy people blesses. The light of faith is gone. From stolen thrones the foes of Christ wage wars Against thy sons, and not one sword is drawn. Thy Westminster, by pagan rites profaned, Where thy pure...

Dying Muse Not everyone will survive The muse has sung her last song The end is about to arrive It has been following us all along The forest is groaning in pain She sheltered her creatures with love Her labors were all given in vain Of her plight she knew...

Click here to read Part I. Montague (That afternoon, on the outskirts of Verona, at a Club, getting in an afternoon’s worth of pheasant shooting, having needed to get out of town and “think about things;” although presently eating peanuts and breaking at the bar… Capulet is also there.) O...

We are pleased to announce the release of a new publication from The Society of Classical Poets titled How to Write Classical Poetry, which features a guide to common poetry forms, brief essays on the relevance of poetry today to the general (non-poet) public, and analysis of great classical poems...

  Mine eyes beheld your beauty, My thoughts remember how, Your loveliness I cherish, Where ever you are now, And in my heart I know you, Always to be near, Because your vision glories, My picture of you clear, And while this life we passage, Your bloom will help me...