Poetry

I Watch the Sun I watch the sun, its trek, across the sky. The shadow too to see how it...

  Boston Public Garden On Boston Public Garden's willowed shorebank, two little girls are feeding ducks: they prance from beak...

By Evan Mantyk In the sea of free verse, drifting downward into the bottomless whirlpool of aesthetic relativism, it is hard...

By Cid Wa'eeb El Sur "The end is where we start from." —T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets, Little Gidding Upon...

  “Doing what deserves to be written, writing what deserves to be read, living to make the world a happier...

White Wolf, Black Wolf: A Cherokee Story A trijan refrain Inside you lives a wolf of white— of patience, peace...

  One Near-Death Experience at the Royal Bournemouth Hospital To be dazed out, phased out, near to dying In a...

After E. T. A. Hoffman "Only connect..." E. M. Forster, Howard's End By Ewald E. Eisbruc The inner structure of the...

We Forget How quickly we forget the people killed, Millions slaughtered to get a lie fulfilled. All those Russians in...

Divided into easy to engage and topical categories such as Beauty, Humor, Anti-Communism, and The Environment, the 2017 Journal features...

  Oak tree like a gnarled arthritic hand jutting into the sky black and bent knobby knuckles, twisted swirls and...

Sleep, lying in dry river beds Sold rapidly, buy the shore banks Brains washed from corporate heads Dried and neatly styled on...

  To me, to rhyme— It is sublime To others But a waste of time To match the sounds Of...

The Theater of the Bush To westward the sun seeks a comfort nocturnal, Her warmth slipping under the covers ahead;...

. . Approaching Spring Above the mountain, under the sky, Canadian Geese, you hear their cry, Over the mountain, hear...

  Are the dead at peace in the ground? wrapped in loam, slow dissolving to earth. Is the mother at...

  Spring is Coming From naked trees, droplets of dew, Drips like tears onto my upturned face. Everything is bleak,...

By Basil Drew Eceu At least four people have been killed and forty injured in a terrorist attack in London...

By Elizabeth Spencer Spragins Poetry has been an integral component of Welsh culture for centuries. Indeed, the Welsh word “bardd”...

A Pantoum The wind, it sings through trees of pine The breeze, it sweeps my senses clear This day shines...

How much wheat can a woodchuck eat? Or cabbage, carrots, and peas, Spinach, parsley, peppers, and kale, Tomatoes, lettuce, n’...

The Rocky Mountain Pines Written in Rhymed couplets of Anapestic Tetrameter. In the mountains or plains, with the pine in...

By James Sale There are nine Muses of poetry, daughters of Zeus or some say Apollo, and the Titaness, Mnenosyne,...

Dancer the arch of her collarbone a bridge, her legs a throne, the clean and simple lines of her body...

  Saint Patrick was a green alien, He came from other parts. He was not a native Irishman But was...

  Celestial Teevee Something that’s always puzzled me: Does the Creator watch us on celestial teevee the way we watch...

By Evan Mantyk Last year, the College Board released a significantly redesigned Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT). The SAT is used by...

Cold and Uncertain shaken and stirred; Flying through clouds so quickly they’re blurred. Hold, comfort and buckle me in; Make...

  Songbirds Sing (Triolet Sonnet) As songbirds sing with joy of spring, unfolding blossoms show their hues. From my front...

The Press is not the enemy, but Donald Trump is right; the Press is disingenuous; they cannot get it right....

By Dona Fox It was Friday night. I fought my way across the campus through special effects left over from...

or Mutatis Mutandis The mode of most catastrophe is gradually, then suddenly. Time slowly ratchets up the stress in states...

By Wilbur Dee Case One of the most unlikely poems of the Modernist period is that by Robert Frost: "The...

  The World Is Still Too Much Too much, and much too much, it still goes on: The men and...

By Evan Mantyk One week in mid-January this year, in the relatively obscure world of poetry, Joseph Charles MacKenzie’s “Pibroch for...

When I struggle for sleep, I dust off a classic and try counting sheep: Trouble is, my sheep show off,...

All photos by Mark Wyatt / All poetry by Alec Ream Chant of the Wooded Hall Chlorophyll concordant eaves Soaring...

Sonnet for an Arabian Autumn After William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73 This time of year you will in me perceive When...

  Teaching the Inner Couplets of one Rumi Has left me truly desolate and gloomy. They say he’s great, this...

  This time of year makes it hard to believe in randomness. Maples flame up, then out, visible symmetry undressed...