Poetry

. Ode to the Turnip Oh, turnip! You’re a vegetable maligned, suggestive of a drunk’s empurpled nose. Baked, or boiled, or steamed, on you I’ve dined, then revelled in a peaceful night’s repose. Your sweet and nutty earthiness when cooked __belies a dull repute--- __though you’re the favourite root on...

. Bend in the River In looking back, a moment since it seems, the river ran, a fawn, leaping, cavorting; and I beside would follow to the sea. The river widened, hurried, running fleet, bright, quickened water rippled, ruffling white; soon I would come to ply the telling deep! But...

. Poet, What Dreamer Thou Art  "I feel more and more every day, that as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand worlds." ---John Keats I’m busy doing nothing, can’t you see? I’m like a bee. I float from flower to...

. The Shortfalls of Empirical Knowledge Sorry, Iowa. Each night is different from all previous And therefore not the same as those to come. The ways of Nature can be devious: They test experience and leave us numb To expectations we would otherwise Have nurtured and applied to form our...

. An Unexpected Smile inspired by the coronation of King Charles III  Today I woke before the sun had spread Her golden grin across the Texas skies. With childlike zest and joy I leapt from bed To cram my Kentish heart and flood my eyes With coronation scenes from streets I know--- Grand streets that speak of days...

. If you enjoy this video from Andrew Benson Brown's Classical Poets Live, please click on "Watch on YouTube" and then press like and subscribe. . https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VahmUnlLEY0 . .

. DoorWay Canto 2, Extract The Poet has gone through the ‘DoorWay’ and entered heaven. Here in the second Canto and in the constellation of Libra he meets his dead grandfather (who was a Libran: 30/7) and his uncle Jim, who died only ten years old and long before the...

. A Right Royal Coronation Anon the pomp and pageantry will beam From London as King Charles III is crowned. The Abbey-bound procession’s set to stream On gleaming tides of splendour to the sound Of jaunty hooves and chatter from a sea Of gazers as his coach cleaves through the...

. The Number 151: Teatime in Cheam A Cautionary Tale . Now this is a story of two little girls; The older had pigtails, the younger one curls. They lived in the wonderful village of Cheam And both were addicted to chocolates and cream. And ever these sisters would rival...

. Planets, Gods and Weekdays Alarms are snoozed, and Monday's born. A few more snores as dreams are shorn, And sleep is corked by clanging horn; __The moon's bereft, Her silver day now dimmed and worn __By weekly theft. A remnant fire of Mars appears, Now Tuesday steers earth's working...

. Books Some say that books are obsolete, __Preferring new devices. But reading books is still a treat, __No gadget quite suffices. . . Tipping Etiquette The credit card machine implied that __I should leave a tip, For someone who provided “service” __No more than a blip. The hope is...

. . Sophisticated Lady—Small Town Girl “Sophisticated lady” gropes the table at her bedside, blindly taking random swipes to kill the morning scream That shatters little privacies she shares with no one else, and steals, with full impunity, her one recurring dream. Cursing imperceptibly, she slaps the tiny box wherein...

. On Binge-Reading Sylvia Plath Verdammte mirror-bee-eyes stare at you As you describe in depth colossal pain. You say too much: your tormented achoo Your lack of faith, your overactive brain. I read your sadness---verses made of hurt And genius, from a coruscating pen Of acid-green, with not one word...

. The Sonogram Dodona housed the oracle of Zeus, And there the Greeks sought his prophetic aid (Whose force depended on how much they’d paid) In auguries divinely quite abstruse. Beneath his sacred oak they lay diffuse, His priests who’d listen to the serenade As wind among the leaves discreetly...

. Chicken and Andouille Gumbo Try my gumbo recipe From the land of andouille: ½ cup unsalted butter; ½ cup all-purpose flour Melt the butter, whisk in flour, Cook and stir a quarter-hour Till it’s peanut-butter hue. Set aside. This is the roux. 1 Tbsp canola oil, ½ cup each...

. Who Is Behind Your Mask Now some of my friends, who put on a good show, Are brave in the face of their fears, this I know. The burdens of life they are striving to hide, So what are the things they are feeling inside? One time they are...

. Why Children Like Nursery Rhymes A story to be told, a tale to tell Of things that do not matter much at all. Who cares about the farmer in the dell? Or Humpty-Dumpty falling off a wall? The pickled peppers Peter Piper Picked? Jack Horner in the corner eating...

. A Requiem for Suzi She fed the birds, she knew them all by name; She cried to see a small dog hurt or lame; She stroked stray cats and even wild ones tamed. __She was wonderful, we loved her. She loved all children, love without a stain: From tip...

. This inaugural episode features an interview with Society of Classical Poets' co-founder and editor Evan Mantyk who talks about the founding of the SCP and its growth. He also discusses the FoFG Poetry Competition, which has a quickly approaching April 30 deadline and no submission fee. Audio version available...

. Salutations, Spring We sing your praises long before you’re due and after you’ve departed—all year long! You bring green grass and flowers into view— plus bugs, torrential rains, and winds so strong. You come with warmth to woo the Earth to life. Sweet fragrances come wafting on the breeze....

. Let Us Lift Our Voices Higher by Mark F. Stone Don’t let leaders make their choices never having heard your voices. Pay no heed to churlish chatter, that your input doesn’t matter. They are hoping we’ll refrain from weighing in, that we’ll abstain from sharing views infused with passion...

. Delightfully Mine Of handsome landscapes I admire, How few were planned to please my sight. High skies of which I never tire Are gifts of light, not owned by right. The borrowed mountainsides I see Beyond the field I cultivate, The sparkling seashore’s fluency, I merely try to navigate....

. Encapsulations “It’s a shame that the tradition of producing small poetic encapsulations of classic texts seems to have died out.” ---Joseph S. Salemi . I. The Way of Peace an alexandroid Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, Book III, Chapter 23 Obey!  Go do another’s will; __Avoid your...

. La Luna The poet compares the moon to Eve, our fallen but redeemed mother, and the sun to Mary, daughter of Eve and Mother of us all; she celebrates Our Lady’s victory over witchcraft, communism, and Islamism and her continued presence with us in our pilgrim exile. In daylight,...

. Receiving an Organ Transplant from China The waiting time was short, extremely short: A couple weeks and fifty thousand bucks Was all it took in China; somewhere else It’d take six months at least, which frankly sucks If you are sick most days and soon could die. It was...

. The Window Seat “They don’t read poets till they’re dead.” That’s what my wise-guy father said. “They wait till they have gone away ‘fore caring what they had to say. Still if that’s what you really want, To drink from that life’s bitter font, Then who am I to...

. Sketches of Three Communistic Big Heads  . 1. Xi Jinping Who thinks this belly-flopping avarist is good except those marrying the flies that buzz and hiss while he rips up the world, gnashing it to cud until it udders out as worthless golden piss? They’re turd-land-dwellers sympathetic to the Devil,...

. Beatrice Does Not Smile: Canto XXI of Paradise by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) translated by Stephen Binns And now my eyes were fastened once again __upon my lady’s face, and all the while __Beatrice __my soul could not another sight retain. She was not smiling. “Were I to smile, __she...

. Awaiting Adulation We all spend our lives awaiting adulations’ late arrival. We’re convinced that’s all we need for our emotional survival. So, we count up every “Like” and then we add them to each “Follow”. Disappointment is a bitter pill that most of us can’t swallow. We sit lost...

. Bardic Bots Will Shakespeare has been rendered obsolete. Bill’s quillings are a patriarchal scandal. His iambs lack that fresh, progressive beat. Barred from Avon is his current handle. As lost as Lear, as dead as Desdemona, His wonder will no longer soar on high. Now robots can compose, the Swan’s a goner. His dusty folios have bid goodbye. They’ve shuffled off like Hamlet and poor Yorick. Alas, the Big-Tech Bods now canonize...

. Human Poetry Versus ChatGPT's AI Poetry Can you tell the difference between artificial intelligence poetry and human poetry? by Evan Mantyk and Mike Bryant Artificial intelligence, most notably ChatGPT, is gaining a lot of attention for creating works of writing that seem effective and even human-like to a scary...

. Green... Greener... Greenest...   a doomsday pantoum Zoom with raving saviors to Net Zero. Bewail our frail and ailing habitat. Become a carbon-taxing pseudo-hero. Trade trilling tones for shrillest super-brat. Bewail our frail and ailing habitat. Jet far and wide to spread the force-fed word. Trade trilling tones for shrillest super-brat. Glower like a sour and steaming turd. Jet far and wide to spread the force-fed word....

. A Novice Speaks to a Guardian Tell me, Oh honoured one, The secret of the Way, Of how to live, to reach the place Of light! . The Guardian’s Reply Kid, train And work hard; doubt The self; gain all you lack To meet the best and worst; and...

. A Few Special Letters . The mother goddess The m’s the mother goddess of the letters: Her shape exemplifies the female form. A bosom there for some, a bottom others; For warmth and comfort is the m the norm. Indeed, no woman could exist without her; Of matriarchy is she head and sum. The m holds all of...

. A Picture of Repose A young boy’s seated on a wall that overlooks Capri, an oil painting by Dane Peter Vilhelm Carl Kyhn, where a rock ridge arises over architextured walls, with arches, domes and towers over roof and mason sprawl. The landscape artist captured a sweet momentary peace,...

. Standing Up The screech of an eagle __Will marshal our senses And, if reckoned regal, __Refocus our lenses __On many events That we blithely ignored __When we kept to our tents, Hypothermic and bored. As a matter of focus, __It’s best to remain In the proximate locus __Of brawn...

. Friendship When was it first struck up? Nobody knows. It’s carried us through heydays, drabs, and falls. An unsown balm, ex nihilo it grows Like capers from the cracks in old stone walls. Previously published in The Lyric. . . Rhyme of History So-called public opinion has forced common sense Into the...

. Historical Negation A pen works wonders. Just ink in, scratch out. Rewrite what people learn about the past. Repeat false facts, promote a fabrication--- Voila! You’ve aced historical negation. You don’t need to be truthful if you shout; Plus changing history can be a blast. Just snap your fingers,...

. La Pompe Funèbre Félix François Faure, President of the French Republic, died on February 16, 1899 in his chambers at the Palais de l’Elysée, while being fellated by his mistress Marguerite Steinheil. Forever after, Madame Steinheil was known as La Pompe Funèbre, which in French can mean either “funereal...

. Senryu on Free Thought . I. As storied Kipling Is stricken from pupils’ tales I feel his burden . II. Arise Dame Roseanne From the inquisitor’s stake Comedy’s phoenix . III. Young Harry Potter Burnt by Mountain Dew addicts Still safe on my shelves . Editor's Note: See the difference between...