Poetry

. Inklings The clues are there. They skulk between the lines. They lurk in spin and smirk in murky spiel. The clues are there. They leer in subtle signs. They lounge in lies and lace the dicey deal. The clues are there. They strain the untrained brain. They pester questing minds with raw alarm. The clues are there. They send the sane insane. They snake through lakes of fakery and charm....

. If We Knew It All . . . Where do dreams go when we wake up? Where does time go as we age? Why did William Shakespeare make up Plays we still perform on stage? Sometimes questions beg an answer— Questions trite or quite profound. Where is Waldo? Cures...

. Hagi at My Study Window hagi or bush clover, a symbol of poetry, blooms as summer turns to autumn. Paper shapes the future’s surface, Paperweights the present state. Inkstones hold a scholar’s treasure: Ink, the past in pine-soot sticks. Water droppers moisten motion Brushes pensively perform, Taken from a...

. Far from the city’s ceaseless bustle— __That’s where the eagle flies! Borne by the means of plume and muscle— __That’s how the eagle flies! There she is one with updrafts rising; There she knows pleasures worth surmising— Beauty and power synthesising __Thrill when the eagle flies. There, I could...

. The Argument: The Poet, with Dante and Virgil, has arrived on the third step of the StairWell, or Purgatory. Dante at the start of Canto 3 has been at pains to explain to the shocked Poet what just has happened on step 2. It has been an incredible, almost...

. I’m Andrew Cuomo---I get a pass. If you don’t like it, kiss my ass! I’m Andrew Cuomo---I don’t resign. I’m governor---this state is mine! . . Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident and poet.

. I stand upon the Bridge of Sighs as teardrops fill my weary eyes and think of life that used to be when she was still in love with me. I watch the river down below. My woes don't interrupt the flow. It catches all my tears that fall yet...

. Farmer, Unpack the dormant forces quiet days Have put aside and stoke the smothered fire Whose soot fanned out in lifeless carbon rays Upon the hearth of winter’s mild repose, But bear the fire within—long days require A bolder stroke.  The spring comes to a close, And summer spawns...

. inspired by this video from communist China: https://youtu.be/b4DmTPtAEbg . All their flipping has flopped, So their stance has flip-flopped __To a more relaxed focus on fun. “It’s a balanced approach,” Beams the school’s head coach __As she stands on the line she’s been spun. She would nail the routine...

. Three by Heraclitus I Offend yourself with mirrored knowledge (where’s that face you wore at college?) and your sense of life’s no-stasis, thinking of various times and places, recalling the endless grandmother summers, remembering bees and thunderboomers, and quote, “A boy’s will is the wind’s will.” All is flux,...

. A hundred tongues of smoke--- Translucent wisps, lithe specters--- __Rise, snaking languidly, Curling, grasping like tendrils At the light they invoke; Then billow into clouds That hang, a haze, an aura, __A veil of mystery, Of light diffuse, pervasive, That glows and yet enshrouds. An otherworldly scent--- Sweetness of...

. an excerpt When battle rages hot, the charge will sound. An army must not let itself break ranks, Although they see the cannon all around. To my Commander humbly I give thanks, For I see not the field as He, in view Of all the strikes and counterstrikes that...

. Silence is not golden. I’ll differ with you here. __Silence is an awful trap Lined with sharpest fear. Silence plays a part Only after we __Use our words of wisdom on Things that should not be. Silence is not golden. Ask the Jews of Germany. __It’s yellow as a...

. in response to Traditionis custodes (“Guardians of the tradition”)---the new motu proprio issued by Pope Francis on July 16, 2021. She has been scarred before. She knows the sting Of scorn and ostracism. She has been poor And homeless. Hunted, hiding from a string Of angry mobs, she lived,...

. When softly my sustaining comfort stirs Herself to offer solace coveted, Advancing toward the left side of my bed With that sweet courtly reasoning of hers, In fearful homage all my being murmurs, “O happy soul, from what sphere do you come?” __A little frond of palm, and some...

. Rondeau The rondeau echoes its refrain in a subtle way, just as rain at times will fall, not in torrents, but in a fine mist, the wood fence, weathered gray, resisting the stain of water. So, the reader’s brain, lulled, may not at first sustain the expectation and suspense...

. Winners announced here. Write a haiku and post it in the comments section below. The haiku must adhere to the traditional parameters of a haiku to qualify and may be deleted if it does not. See traditional haiku requirements here. Note that a haiku is like a a painting of...

. You’re glad you’ve nabbed The Covid jab That’s newly fabbed In some large lab Created by The jaundiced eye, The sneaky, sly, Big corporate guy. The slimy thug, Our taxes sent To make the bug More virulent. He’s in with Xi, Our enemy, And Xi can see Our liberty...

. Guilty, Guilty, Guilty! That most sagacious Mr. K*Told listeners: “Back in the day—‘The Enlightenment,’ they call it; haw,No way! ‘Twas filled with moral flawBeside which our few failings pale.Yes, they’d put people up for sale!Take Washington, the so-called FatherOf Our Country. We should ratherRemember him not as a founderOf...

. A widespread distemper in modern life is the insistent need that many people feel to justify themselves and their activities. Countless persons are defensive about all sorts of things that in the past you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. Suppose you ask somebody how he makes a...

. 23 July 2021 Don't send money.  No food to buy. One scanty meal at work or nothing. Outside the factory today There was a freedom demonstration. The managers brought clubs for us: "Go out and beat a demonstrator. Your job is making Cuba safe." We said, "We will not...

. Rain Song by Klaus Groth (1819-1899) Pour, O rain, pour down to earth, Give my childhood dreams rebirth, When in reverie I roamed Shores where sand with moisture foamed. When the summer sun’s hot rays Idly vied with crisper days, And the pale leaves dripped with dew, And seeds...

. Da Vinci’s lauded “Savior of the World”— Commissioned by the King- Louis of France, * Entombed for years by paint but now unfurled While few respected experts look askance. The work of Leonardo does impress— Effects of soft sfumato on the face Where edges fade and softly evanesce Into...

. ⬙ Judged by Cynthia Erlandson See all entrants here. ⬙ . FIRST PLACE WINNER ($100) . A Slight Deviation from the Canterbury Tales after Chaucer’s Prologue and other poems by Brian Yapko, Sante Fe, New Mexico When that April with his showers sweet Made mud fields out of every...

. While Waiting Through the Night This morning, searching on the laptop, I Found notes I made upon the night she died. All through the darkest hours at her bedside That night I knew she knew her end was nigh. And in the morning light though she would lie There...

. Lucky It stormed around our house last night, The lightning turned the black sky bright. Tornadoes came to join the fray, The morning news led me to pray. Six houses leveled, not too far--- How vulnerable we all are! . . Why We Have Mother’s Day The son while...

. A Little Respect an appeal to activist athletes at the Olympic games You have the right to speak of truth or trash __In houses, restaurants, and streets; To turn the flag of freedom-land to ash, __The flag for which your team competes; And you may spurn your liberty for...

. O Happy Glass Another soul inside a glass deep red— I think on Provenance, effect and cause: Do you begin in wind? In sun, or rain? Inside a seed in bed, or in the grower’s head? In winter when your climbing growth takes pause? In summer when your jewels...

. The Lion Who Thought She Was a Zebra a fable East Africa is where this lion’s tale Takes place---a land of rugged plains of grass, Acacia trees with thorns as sharp as nail, And wild beasts of every shape and class: Giraffes and warthogs, elephants, baboons! Egrets and flamingos...

. They lie in serried ranks above the strand. These mighty, whirling monsters made of steel. Where once, a couple wandered, hand in hand, Not knowing what the future might reveal. The murky sea rolls in from dawn ‘till late, You rarely hear the screeching seabird sound, With drizzle tumbling...

. . They're Here They are the Saintly Source of Good;  __The Keepers of The Truth.  They’re seeking you. You knew they would. Stand up. Speak out. You know you should. They want your eye. They want your tooth. They want your wide-eyed, prideful youth. __They’re cloaked in mask and...

. Kilkenny Castle A moat runs dry revealing secrets buried those conquerors and conquered knights had known. The past, a relic—bits and pieces carried, some seen in present life, some overgrown by history’s décor. And at its core A castle built of wood and later stone. We in the present...

. Making All Things Orderly Stare at grey clapboards in unbroken rows That seem to follow the unceasing sound Of thrumming traffic, with no vibrant red Or swaying leaves to soften sunlight’s blows. Poems of air and chlorophyll’s repose Have gone; the smallest traces can’t be found; Destroyed, as some...

. in reference to an Epoch Times' exposé We’re in the loop, we’re up the sleeve, we’re near the Party’s armpit. As high rank cadres we can’t leave, we know too much, God damn it ! Hard working, in-the-know, we spy in worldwide institutions. Nobody knows more on the sly...

. Heliotrope Phaeton, son of the god Helios, attempted to drive his father’s celestial chariot. His inexperience caused him to burn up part of the earth and the heavens, so he was killed by a thunderbolt from Zeus. The frightened gods all breathed in deep relief (Thunderer, thanks! You’ve saved...

. With How Sad Steps from a Philip Sidney sonnet With how sad steps, O Moon, you climb the skies! How silently, and with how wan a face! What see you? Humankind’s excessive pace Getting from here to there? We are not wise, Who to alarm clock daily need arise,...

. Nest Egg The things for which I hoped have come and gone: The power to express a cogent thought; Ability to wake at break of dawn; Approval from a nearly perfect wife; And will to execute what I’ve been taught. But this is not to say that all is...

. —like his saddle, hat, and spurs No silver on this cowboy’s working saddle; borne bedrolls, stray calves, and dry canteens, carried beside lame mounts home to the stable, baptized in thunderstorms and mountain streams —horn scarred by years of lariat, grooved deep. The smell of leather, home, a cowboy’s...

by Adam Sedia Contemporary poetry is plagued by several characteristic vices: obscurity, banality, nihilism---each a topic for examination in its own right. But its most glaring and even characteristic vice is an omnipresent solipsism---a narcissistic navel-gazing by which the poet elevates superficial autobiographical detail to the level of a poetic...

. Each view deemed inconvenient is a fake, no matter if deep down you know it’s true. When one lot says a colour’s red, I’ll make a bet with you the other says it’s blue. This double-think duplicity where facts and common sense get pushed aside by hate results in...