Poetry

. . Late Bloomers My last red rose-of-sharon __Is slowly curling closed, Each giant shell-shaped petal __Beginning to turn in, The five of them a pinwheel, __Crepe-paper veins exposed To August’s reminiscence __Of the summer that has been. . Today it holds its brightness; __Tomorrow it will fall--- Frail, old,...

. Fallen The Universe was perfect, Heaven and Earth, Upon Almighty God’s Creation’s birth! He made the spirit-beings, Angels, free; And later, Man with physicality. Most-favored Lucifer the Fair grew proud, Ungrateful for the gifts he’d been endowed, Called for an armed rebellion; one-third followed And rose against the Master,...

. Reviewed Book: Making Music by Sally Cook, White Violet Press, 2012 by Monika Cooper Making Music by Sally Cook is a book that comes with a painting on its cover, a still life no less. Wine-colored drapery adorns a blue bowl with a pedestal stem, the bowl mounded with...

. But the great Master said, "I see No best in kind, but in degree; I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach." ---Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Singers" First Prize: $2,000. Publication on the Society's website and Journal. . Submission Fee: $20 (The fee...

. But the great Master said, “I see No best in kind, but in degree; I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.” —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Singers” First Prize: $200. Publication in the Society's website and The Society of Classical Poets Journal. ....

. Covidiocy a rondeau It’s coming back! The tyrants tack From tongues that twist and hearts that lack An honest song. It’s on the news--- Cruel rules for fools who suck up schmooze That oozes from each yakking quack. Wolves paid to scare and sneer then snack On swindled sheep...

. Excuse My Excuse An excuse—that’s a word to excuse at those times when I need a good ruse __which I’ll put to good use __while I find some excuse which will not leave folks singing the blues. If the words I misuse are obtuse, as they cruise, they’ll be...

. Tough Love and Hugs “Where the heck do they learn this crap?” one father asked another. __When we were kids---we never talked like that. “Almost every kid I knew at least went out for sports… __No wonder half the kids today are fat!” Every boy that could would mow...

. The Pilgrimage The lover takes leave of his mistress's mouth And starts on his pilgrimage, travelling south. Each stop on his journey he marks with a kiss, And lingers a moment, prolonging their bliss. He murmurs a gentle farewell to her ears As each from the landscape in turn...

. God Made These Texas Summers The Summer’s come again To the vast Texas plain, Where touching any metal Can instantly cause pain. The horny toads are resting In shadows of the rocks, And cowboys now are wearing Sweat absorbent socks. Meantime down in Houston, Girls’ hair has turned to...

. At the Dog Store “Now this hound here’s a Disappointment Hound. His dam was Thwart; his pappy’s name was Slink. He’ll chew up expectations in a wink and snake along, his belly to the ground. Sir, you don’t want to buy this sorry runt. These dogs aren’t bred for...

. The Pietà or Mickey Mouse? A book I’ve read depicts a boy Who’s searching for creative joy. His mind can’t focus on a vision, So he’s weighed down by indecision: To carve the rock behind his house— The Pietà or Mickey Mouse? To chip away each chunk of rock...

. Belling the Cat The mice called a council to try to defeat A troublesome cat who would ruthlessly eat Any mouse in the house that she happened to meet. A young mouse spoke first. “Pay attention to me. We’ll fasten a bell on the cat, then you’ll see That...

. Aphorisms for a Foggy Morning No literary monuments exist without the word. A lord who lacks entitlements is patently absurd. A song that has no sound to give has never yet been heard. Two wings for every bird that sings, no cheese without the curd. * The prospects for...

. The Magic Casket 'Twas in the local funeral home __The miracle occurred, As ticking clock hands kissed at noon __And restless spirits stirred… A gasp, a creak, a quake, a crash, __A spectral puff of dust; A ghostly face as gray as ash, __An icy, eerie hush. A casket caught a toiling guy __Who’d plunged right through the ceiling....

. Broad Brush Art What’s considered great art isn’t static at all. There are always new trends that beguile and enthrall. We’ve had cave art, art deco, abstract and baroque. There was cubist, impressionist, pop art and folk. Each had palettes and brushstrokes that set them apart, but the newest...

. Lessons from the Sky I breathe the bracing air, I feel the dew Wet through my shoes and socks. The morning’s fair, The sky’s a waiting canvas backed with blue, The sun still sleeps, my eyes cut through the air. Absorbent blue near hides a beauty rare: The morning...

. A Deeper Scaly Screed "'Rich Men North of Richmond' is a passionate screed against the state of the country sung by Oliver Anthony, who identifies as a farmer living off the grid with his three dogs in Farmville, Virginia." ---Joseph Hudak, “Right-Wing Influencers Just Found Their Favorite New Country...

. Sonnet for Houston The highway shuffles traffic as the sun begins to bake the tarmac; its black emits waves of heat that waver as it gets a thousand fractions hotter. Heat is one of many factors I find under sun: the buildings rise to meet the sky, as fits...

. Modern Times . I. The Cutting-Edge Misogynist He slams the bland and damned old-fashioned type--- Those tiresome dinosaurs born with a womb--- The sexless species of the XX stripe--- The sort he states must bow and give more room To fakes who ache to take the world by storm--- Those...

. The Merry Wanderer When God wills man to know His favor, He sends him where the wide world gleams And makes him wonder at the splendor Of mountains, forests, fields and streams. The lazybones at home lies jaded; Dawn never rouses him from bed. He only knows poor children’s...

. Trump and Old Slow Joe Republicans and elephants go back a long, long way. The elephant that’s in the room is Donald Trump, today. But if it were a China shop I daresay Trump would be More “bull” than “pachyderm”—no doubt The Donald would agree. But should he be...

. Mosquitoes God designed the darn mosquito, But the reason’s nothing we know. Seems their less than epic purpose Is to bite our epidermis. . . The Left’s Vision for Future Transportation From much of what is heard today It seems that there are forces, Whose discontent will not allay...

. Henry IV, Part I In Henry IV Part 1 the king’s possessed By fears that Harry Hotspur wants him dead. While Henry’s son Prince Harry is obsessed With drinking with his friends at the Boar’s Head. The Hotspur Percys form a coalition That stirs the country into civil war....

. . Tucson Sunday Morning Chorus: Tucson Sunday morning, See the sage brush come alive. Gold upon the Rincons, Catalina mountain sides. Saguaro in the desert Lift their silent arms in prayer. The mission bell is tolling, My stage will soon be rolling, But my dreams will still be there....

. Gordon’s Soup One day old Arthur Vincent Knowling, Quit the couch to take up bowling, Grasped the fact at fifty-three, The time he’d wasted on TV. He’d been a hermit all these years And suddenly was filled with fears That if he didn’t make a plan, He’d die a...

. Overheard in a Mexico City Cantina A downpour started. The cantina beckoned. I sat and heard two men debating change; How Mexico’s divisions should be reckoned. These words are what I heard in that exchange: “You radicals are dull. You bear this chip Of weighty social anger on your...

. Classical Poets Live with Andrew Benson Brown Episode 6 Part 1 of 3: Against the Critics of Conservative Poetry If you enjoy this video, please like and subscribe on YouTube to support the production. . https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdYcYwvA09k .

. . Poetics the Ginger Cat —Ποιητική: ‘poi-EIGH-tee-keigh’ By a caged fire I read. Around me walls of ancient lore, of poetry and war….           Prometheus bound, flames behind glass doors:  . I pause, plying the sage, musing upon a well worn Mediterranean page. Poetics now plays...

. The Old Place Once there was a family here Where now is all plantation pines. There’s a cabin—I see the lines— It was their home for many years. This farm was poor but to them dear, A world whole in its small confines. They labored as the soil declined,...

. . . . . Appreciating Shakespeare by Evan Mantyk Why do people think Shakespeare is so great? Why do they keep returning to his plays 400 years later? And for other classical literature, even thousands of years later? Hi, I’m Evan Mantyk, teacher of literature and history, and in...

. At Thirteen At thirteen, I received a birthday card from Buffalo, my aunt sent my Dad’s poem he’d written at thirteen.  Our plain back yard picnic table became a podium as I savored every word… “Oh for a good old Summer’s day / with no cares in my way.”...

. Something Higher the brown scapular of Elijah Departures and arrivals. Passengers. The life of one old man describes an arc: A sudden collapse from sitting. Messengers, Come lift my weight, grown lighter than a lark, The height we rise to not the length I fell But something higher. Seated...

. . Virgil Departs, Beatrice Arrives: Canto XXX of Purgatory by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) translated by Stephen Binns . Now when the primal Heaven’s Septentrion—____seven lights of the Holy Spirit __which does not rise nor set, and whose report __goes unveiled to us but by mists of sin, which guided...

. A Discussion on Long Poems by Julian Woodruff  In her second comment to the thread trailing my recent poem “The Heavy Launch of the Siegfried Idyll” (July 29), Margaret Coats suggested I “begin a conversation on LONG POEMS,” since, while responding to Joseph Salemi’s marvelous “Jeweler’s Deposition” (July 23),...

. I Have Loved You All Along for Linda I have loved you all along; No matter what was error, Or what was done imperfectly Through weakness, worry, plainly wrong: I have loved you all along. I have loved you all along, As birds sing every day, Or suns arc...

. Scenes of passion in literature, on the stage, and on the silver screen, have captivated audiences for years. How about spicing up some poetry with a soupçon of sauciness and savagery (tastefully done, of course). Choose a scene of fevered passion from a favorite novel, play, or film, bring...

. Crossing the Swamp After about an hour hiking the swamp, I knew. A week’s rains flooded out the trail. Tall sameness of pines stood round me. Stagnant water, coffee dark, spread before me. My new boots stamped sucking cleats to nowhere on red mud. I knew! But first, denial....

. My Favourite Photo of Mum I’ve just found my favourite photo of Mum, standing in the snow of a new century in the back garden; her sweater’s bottle-blue, her smile an ad for British dentistry. Sleeves rolled up, stood beside a wooden fence, she acts as if she’s conjured...

. Deep in the Heat of Texas a rhupunt One hundred one, a scorching sun that I should shun. I shed no tear. Sun blazing down, the grass is brown, I do not frown I’m in good cheer. The soil on fire as we perspire in all attire. I am...