Poetry

On the occasion of his birthday, 160 years ago, on February 27, 1848  At the Solitary Age of Twelve—Seven and Twelve Being Holy Numbers The first of seven early music books Reveals a boy methodical as Bach. He studies Bach’s first 48. He looks In detail, analyzing. “Let us talk,”...

  Budding darkness, in your starkness, void of noise and light, deliver me from what I see ’fore day turns into night. Guide me through the peaceful sea of dreamers far and wide, as welcome shores reopen doors to once-untarnished side. I yearn for trees and tranquil breeze; rich emerald...

  Living with Omnibenevolence Each one of us is furnished with an expiration date, And no one living has the power to elude his fate. There comes a time when every living creature has to die, But some will rest beneath the earth, and others in the sky. The latter...

Confucius Institute Workers (Excerpt) For Xinqun Note: Confucius Institutes are being or have been set up at major universities throughout America and the West. Their primary stated goal is educational, but they are also pushing a communist agenda from the Mainland. In cool grey shadows of the red brick walls...

gone the time for finding fault for finger-pointing and assault frantic now the SOS our ship of state is in distress taking water, sinking fast this call for help may be its' last mastered by a crew of fools as kids are slaughtered in our schools shamelessly the talking heads...

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,...

This life—O, how much more of it remains? The night is brief. Toward those short trees, we saw a bird, descending with our grief. Chris Hixon, Aaron Feis, Scott Beigel vanished in the day. Luke Hoyer, Meadow Pollack, Carmen Schentrup went away. Helena Ramsey, Alex Schachter, Jaime Gutenberg: alas their...

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!...

“But it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffending individual…so I let him alone.” —Major Patrick Ferguson, British Expeditionary Force What if it had been a different man Scouting along the Brandywine that day Near Chad’s Ford, where the fleet-flowing creek ran Wide through the wooded...

Tonight, I saw the moon Stalking me, watching me Hiding surreptitiously. She knows I know she's there She knows I do not care Reasons for and reasons why Curious, bold, or wee bit shy, A game, perhaps she feels So silently she steals Tonight, I saw the moon.   Jordan...

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...

She sits in thoughtful silence, chin in hand, That old blue skirt hem covers her thin knees. Gazing west, the sunset’s  silvery bands Lengthening shadows from the maple trees. The porch needs paint; its steps are all adroop, The lawn is overgrown with Queen Anne’s lace. The whole world passes...

Fenghan Gao was an outstanding artist of the Qing Dynasty (1644-1912 AD). He had profound wisdom and was multi-talented; he was good at writing poems and good at painting, especially landscapes and flowers. He was also good at seal carving. The famous painter Banqiao Zheng’s many seals were carved by...

  I fear no more the settling of the night Or mind its grey, evaporating shades; Mine ears are deaf to time’s lost serenades, Mine eyes content with thy soul’s loving light. Thy morning’s halo puts the stars to flight, And warms me in its luminous cascades; And though the...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjc_6R0ang8&feature=youtu.be   It was once thought that swallows wintered on the moon, or morphed into field mice beneath the autumn swoon of clouds, or slept beneath wavelets on the floor of shadowy ponds and lakes until the sudden lure of springtime roused them from the kingdom of the dead. Early...

. by David Bellemare Gosselin Today, seldom is Edgar Allan Poe's voice heard as it's drowned out by the popular notions of Poe as some sort of deranged man whose stories and poetry are simply the product of his own sick mind. The myth of Poe as some sort of...

  Like feathered tip of swooping sparrow Our kinship cuts like that of arrows A brother’s love has weakened me I’ll take the slice, so brother be Shivered dreams of days that past Rivers gleam to drown mine fast Our friendship sank and swept to sea I’ll learn to swim,...

In another lifetime I was William Blake When I saw his work That was my take He wrote about love And the human heart I thought I was him Right from the start He wrote about London Tiger burning bright His influence looms In whatever I write He wrote about...

The sparkle on the river, the lights from distant shore, the cold and bitter glitter, the beckoning of more, Is beautiful to look at, ‘tis a pleasing sight to see, like a woman dressed for dinner, in all her finery. But all that shines is not silver, all that glitters...

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...

  Between the trees, along the path I hear the woodpecker tap tap tap. Beneath the bridge, cyclists roll through Pedaling and laughing two by two. Friends holding hands, walkers with dogs, A spring in their step, the jogger jogs, On and on with strolling feet Hoping I'll find some...

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...

By Carter Davis Johnson In a period where American literature was considered peripheral and amateur, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) helped create a national literature to challenge European authors. His poetry heralded the unique mythology, history, and nature of America. With lucid imagery and accessible meter, Longfellow became a leading poet and...

Jeremiah 52 When Judah rebelled against the Chaldean horde, They sought to gain freedom without help from the Lord, Trusting, instead, in the massive stone of their walls, Like Jericho had before the Jewish footfalls. Nebuchadnezzar came with his army of might, Which, before, had sent the Assyrians to flight....

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Hylas and the Nymphs by Beau Ecs Wilder John William Waterhouse's "Hylas and the Nymphs" must go; enchanting, pretty, water nymphs are far too much to show. Manchester Art has claimed it is unsuitable right now. It is offensive, and it must be censored,...

I’m born from a forked tongue’s hissing mutter, An ungrounded half-truth, forceless and tame. Just like a spark struck from flint I shudder At greater forces, a delicate flame, But human speech kindles my weak ember, And soon I blaze through villages and towns. Baring secrets for all to remember,...

  Sun slowly dipping in the western sky; the winds are light and the pine boughs tossing. From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy, walk to the river; time for the crossing. To the fields above, to graze for a meal; prance through the meadow, always listening. Hear...

  A robin should fly south before the snow, With others in the flocks of migrant birds, Quite safe amid this seas’nal ebb and flow— To miss the chance would surely be absurd! Yet some stay on regardless of the cold, They brave the ice and front the blust’ry winds,...

First Place ($500 Prize): C.B. Anderson, Massachusetts “Stonewalls Sometimes a Prison Make” “Praise for the Mother of Summer” “Meritocracy” "Verification" Second Place: Adam Sedia, Indiana “At Lincoln’s Tomb” “Vision” “Untitled” Third Place: Fr. Richard Libby, Texas “Made in China” (publication forthcoming) “When All the World Seems New” “You See Me...

Read about last night's lunar eclipse here. Thoughts on January 31, 2018’s Complete Lunar Eclipse Reflected Glory, full and bright, Transforming inky, blackest night To wonderland of silver-grey, A tintype of my world by day. But strangely, in the early hours, I wake as Full-Moon’s brilliance lours— So slowly, incrementally,...

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...

  The Last Time I Saw Paris You have imagined how it was, I expect: Troy’s famous towers burning, the city wrecked, the lines of weeping captives marched away, the streets strewn with corpses, the shore blood-flecked. And the woman  who caused it all:  why, me! Crying to  throw myself...

    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...

At Lincoln’s Tomb Springfield, Illinois, 2016 Be glad you cannot rise to life and stand Outside that tomb to die again from shame At Illinois, your home, your prairieland, Transformed, yet quick to arrogate your name – A land of ruined hope, no longer great, Where silent foundries waste away...

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...

By David B. Gosselin The nature of the subject matter discussed in Dante Alighieri’s lyric poetry, his canzoni, has been debated time after time, generation after generation. While the Dantisti as they are called, the Dante scholars, will often take up the habit of prating on individual details and individual poems,...

By Brett Forester Writing but one fine, enduring poem is a remarkable achievement. Writing a book of great poems is an even rarer triumph. Yet in 1820, British Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (born August 4, 1792 - died July 8, 1822) published just such a book: Prometheus Unbound, with...