Poetry

    He pressed a rounded stone into my hand. He said, "Take care of this," and turned away To...

  I know why the red rose weeps Why she hides her tears in dew As the summer breezes sweep...

  The Society of Classical Poets is reviving poetry with rhyme and meter and the response has been widespread and...

April Fools Easter: April 1, 2018 In dark Gethsemane I was betrayed By Judas’ kiss. I was arrested, tried, Found...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise)   On Secretaries of State: Falling from Grace by Brice U. Lawseed Across the...

. . The Sun The face above that shone below From space to hover, cast a glow And warmth afforded...

Miles hastatus (spearman) of the Legio Decima Fretensis, stationed in Roman Judaea, A.D. 33 Vere, filius Dei erat iste. —Roman...

This Collar, Blue My elbows leak with grease And all my toes are laid with steel I'm rough of neck...

See the Music Mysterious the inner eye that hears the dancers flying by across the stage in grand jete' as woodwind, horn...

About the Lady Godiva and her famed naked ride through Coventry Once in the town of Coventry, Leofric Earl had...

A tribe of trolls escaped their cage! Now rabid wrath and rancor rage. Hurling hurt from hidden hellholes (most notably,...

by Jane Blanchard George Herbert was born into a well-to-do and well-doing family of Montgomery, Wales, in 1593. When he...

The Fall Now, if you’re sitting comf’tably, then listen to my ballad; it is a Summer evening tale of pizza...

In garret lofts poor artists have quite often painted women bathing, combing hair inside a nearby mirror… __________________________Your eyes soften,...

  The Maid of Orleans A villanelle on Joan of Arc As I gazed at the flames of the fire...

  in the woods, I stop in twilight dim … as spring throws off the evening’s hoarfrost coat midst groaning...

Winter’s Nocturn       When angles of the sun are shining low, Intuition tells us we must sleep. Nocturnal...

Statues A Villanelle Two Buddhas now a lost reality, A crowd chants loudly near a pile of stone; Across the...

  The wisest poem ever Was written by my daughter, Although I’ve never known her To be much of a...

For Bill Horn Send up on wings of blood our fathers’ cry, Though the unhearing dead brook not your sound,...

At night I hear Prokofiev and Liszt and dream of playing baby grands as sly Euterpe lures me towards the...

Theological But there’s a God, white-knuckled, jealous, His heart an anvil, and his mind a bomb. Take the crew of...

Sonnet I: Liu Haixiao Mr. Liu Haixiao (pronounced Leo High-shaow) is serving a 16-year prison sentence in Jilin Province, China,...

A rhupunt A modern place that maintains grace a safer place for all who come The airplanes fly the city...

I. As clear blue symbols dance before my eyes, And I lie still, my head upon the ground, Each part...

  You Decide Some know me as Destiny, The weaver of the cloth of Time. Although my looms are never...

By Con Chapman It has been a little more than eight years since poet Rachel Wetzsteon committed suicide at the...

12/03/17 Of all ye gods, that crown Olympus high, Who yet remains that man’s not brought to heel? When aircraft...

  Within what hut, My woodland maid, May I remain awhile? Next what fire may my chills Be warmed? Be...

  You caught me staring at you yesterday, or so it seemed, for you—you smiled and blushed and all your...

The Day the Poetry Died Wonder why poetry is in decline, While not ever writing one lyric line? There is...

After Joachim du Bellay’s "Les Regrets LXVIII" I hate the Florentines' foul avarice, I hate lewd Sienese profanity, I hate...

The neologist bakes the cake, The iconoclast shreds the recipe Deems the structure all a fake, But powerless against euphony,...

  The unchanging moor, but heeds season’s call To don her different well-coloured weeds, My heart is cold, left lonely;...

The Cymbal Player As bows and fingers quiver strings, as lungs and lips whip up the air, as notes soar...

by Lew Icarus Bede "A sonnet is a coin: its face reveals The soul—its converse, to what Power 'tis due:...

  Self-Love Some tenderhearted people claim We’re deficient self-esteem; Yes, a collective sense of shame Made despondency mainstream. While gloom...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch...

  The toys we buy at Christmastime (The decorations, too), Don’t come from elves in Santa’s shop, As we’ve been...

On the occasion of his birthday, 160 years ago, on February 27, 1848  At the Solitary Age of Twelve—Seven and...