Poetry

 . This silver-furred yogi of how to stay fit,  This bespectacled guru of health,  Is a growly voiced sage of nefarious wit;  A hoodwinking master of stealth.  This flip-flopping, truth-chopping, sly hypocrite;  This barefaced disgrace; demon prince of batshit,  Is rolling in ill-gotten wealth.    This fork-tongued ace fudger of figures and facts  Who wove the apocalypse thread,  Has backtracked on data...

. "He has made everything beautiful in its time. . ."  (Ecclesiastes 3:11) The sun shines so brightly on this verdant hill Where I sit in silence so peaceful and still; I've come here alone to survey the fair scene Spread out now before me, so fragrant and green. A...

. The poet has now escaped Hell, and has arrived in Purgatory or what he calls the StairWell. But he seems to have been abandoned by Dante, and has a fresh set of problems to confront. In this first section of the Canto he encounters an unexpected companion to help...

The author of the above poem, circulating online, is unknown. From The Epoch Times (March 2, 2021) "Biden Omits Mention of Dr. Seuss From ‘Read Across America Day’ Amid Concerns of Racist Undertones": President Joe Biden appears to have removed legendary children’s book author Dr. Seuss from “Read Across America...

. Do they still dance on old walkwayswith lowered shoulders, mastered breathand almost martial, measured gazethough one that's bent on life, not death?Will men with class step up and raisean arm and pause: a shibboleththat leading, and not lording, paysrespect---and takes his partner's breath? Do they still dance outside cafeswhere...

. I've battled beside Gilgamesh, the Bull Of Heaven slain by us. I've fought beside Achilles, hot beside a burning hull, And watched as Agamemnon, captured, died. With Oedipus I've lost my vital eyes With insight gained, avoiding my own lies. I've been to Hades too with Gilgamesh, Again with...

. A Teaching Tool for High School English Language Arts or Global History Teachers by Evan Mantyk . Background of Kipling and British India Rudyard Kipling The poet, Rudyard Kipling, was born in British India in 1865 and spent much of his life there. He produced many works of fiction...

. . Who Knew How often I crushed autumn leaves Until I saw a robin drink From one that cupped the fallen rain, And many times too, I did break Icicles dripping from a roof. How often in the spring I plucked A bud before it opened full, Afore the...

Reviewed Book: Mostly Sonnets: Formal Poetry in an Informal World by James A. Tweedie, Dunecrest Press, July 2019 by Theresa Rodriguez As a fellow sonneteer, I felt like I was reading the words of a kindred spirit when I read James A. Tweedie’s Mostly Sonnets: Formal Poetry for an Informal...

. This challenge was conceived by Paul A. Freeman after reading a sonnet in iambic monometer by James A. Tweedie, "Allergies." Mr. Freeman's example is below. Make your own and post it in the comments section below! . An Aging Poet’s Lament by Paul A. Freeman My mind these days...

. . He met her one Summer, the girl of his dreams, A freckle-faced beauty just out of her teens. He chatted her up, and he thought he’d done well, But with these young women, you never can tell. She said she was happy to be on her own, So,...

. . Frankly, There Are Many Ways To Spell Uggly “the Baleks von Bilgen…new coat of arms—a giant crouching under a fir tree” —Heinrich Böll, “The Balek Scales” by Esca Webuilder In the dark ages, lived a tyrant. Gugyl was his name, whose thoughts, though somewhat polished, were untrammeled and...

. The Magpie’s Chorus With sunlight at full power And silence in the air, I sought a shaded bower, A cool drink, and a chair. But then, I heard the trilling Of magpies in the trees Pour out like liquid filling The desiccated breeze. They put on airs and graces,...

. Governor Mussolini Fifteen thousand souls,Killed by the stroke of his pen,For whom no bell tolls. . . Covid Chronicles I saw a naked face today---It nearly took my breath away!I knew the girl and so I asked “How is it, Dear, that you’re unmasked?”. “I’m on the phone, as...

. In Astrophysics, I’m ranked “One,” and Greek and Latin I find fun. All serve me well at Crossword “Times,” with each day’s matrix solved by nine. Most free verse, though? Puzzles abstruse; Augean tasks for “us obtuse.” It’s glossy verse too recherché for even Hercules to slay! But many...

. Eyes on the Prize __What time it is Can be determined only by the Sun. __The choice is his, By whom all duties have been duly done, __To set the pace Whereby all useful progress shall be measured. __In such a race, Ambition and persistence will be treasured __Like...

. A Song of Saint Francis Good friends, I wander vale and hill The Master’s words upon my lip; My only thought: to do His will And sing such Love as makes hearts skip! Rejecting wealth, prestige and sword -- I only live to serve the Lord! God’s blessings are...

. Midday Dreaming The raindrops fall like teardrops from a sad and sodden cloud; Their spattering the sound of some a- doring, cheerful crowd. I touch the cloud with outstretched fingers Lifted to the sky, The rainfall’s ozone fragrance lingers As the storm rolls by. I hear the sound of...

. It feels like a galaxy far, far away,__But it’s just the US of AWhere a woman is canned, her prospective gigs banned,__For refusing to mutely obey. Speech marshals have spoken, patrollers of space;__Even actors must act to save face.Five affairs? No one cares. DUI? Don’t be shy__But for science...

. Of all Creation, who am I Who sins against Thee, Lord Most High? Of all that crawl, of those who creep, No one has ever sunk so deep. Of those who swim and those who fly, Least of them all, this sinner, I. There’s nothing else can go so...

. As a child, they could not keep me from trees And craggy, tangled limbs and aching arms. I loved the camouflage, the filtered breeze, Nose-smacked tang of moss and far-off farms. Grandma's had a crook just right for hiding. I savored hard-won silence in my perch, Nursed calloused hands,...

. Owl ensconced on oaken branch, A wingèd spirit rare, His gaze is wisdom: calm, intent, Bewitching and aware. Soulful and implacable, His feathered stillness bright Is outlined by cerulean sky, A beacon of the night. Behind stark owl a full moon glows, Casts vectored rays of light, And yon...

.. Grauballe Man He lies exposed to view in this glass case Exactly as he lay three hundred years Before our Christ was born, between his ears Torn open with a savage force: his face, All blackened by the peat who in disgrace Perhaps or battle died, betrays his fears....

. Remembering Sandy Hook, Ct 12/14/12 Over 8 Years Later That day God's Angels' tears were shed,When first grade books and blackboards bledPure blood that stained a beige room red.Sad parents tuck ghosts into bedLike precious dreams which now are dead. This, I can't get out of my head:Such evil...

. Dear friends we gather here to say goodbye To words once used to speak both truth and lie. The HE and SHE and HIS and HERS and MINE By ZIE interred forever at ZIR shrine. No more can we know ZIM or VER by gender Just judging by the...

. Rush He was larger than life And it cut like a knife When his wife let us know That he died. From this kind of grief There can be no relief. Such a powerful blow Meant I cried. 12:06 comes around, I’m transfixed by the sound Of the words...

. Too long, too long, my love, Have we lain out here. Too long, too long, my love, Have our ease, our cheer Fixed us fast, sprawled in cool shade, With our arms and breasts clasped near, Too pleased to note that youth and day would fade. The sun, the...

by Adam Sedia The origin of poetry is inextricably tied to music. The earliest poems---the Homeric epics, the Chinese Book of Songs---were all lyrics to be sung. Because vowels allow the open voice to sing while consonants break the voice, the syllable defined the meter, setting the rhythm of the...

. The Great Reset has rocked the world--- What untold evil has unfurled! Unshakable foundations crumble. Through the rubble, nations stumble. Who is not shaken to the core By all that was and is no more? Ashless Wednesday came and went, Virtually I did repent. I sought myself in the...

. The Internet’s a work of art, Now everybody’s phone is smart. They’re very compact, very small, And so, begins a tale so tall. For once upon a time, a gent, A load of cash one day he spent. Delighted now, he was to own, A brand new, shiny Apple...

. For others it may be a breeze. Those hardy Arctic folk would wheeze With laughter as we Texans sneeze __And shiver. This slick of ice and lick of snow; This frightful bite as ill winds blow Nips our fingers, numbs our toes--- __We quiver. All those of us who...

. These stones that like huge sculpted figures lie __Amid the trunks of moss and fern-clad trees, Eons of creatures have seen born and die __And the land’s face carved by the shifting seas. ____All of earth’s seasons since the dawn of Man, ____Are but a day in their old...

  There is a scourge that permeates our midstWhich we cannot so easily dismiss.Elitists strive to elevate this curse;A type of art most poets call free verse. True poetry once rhymed and had some form,A style evoking passion was the norm;But now these attributes are deemed archaicAs it makes little difference how you...

. . Till rolling seas cease heaving high, The starry nights stop passing by, The universe is wrapped in flame, And there is no one left to blame. __Until then? ... You’re my loved one. Till sun no longer makes a day, And earth will never get a ray, The...

. For my friend Rose R., with sincere condolences. Good Lord, imagine my bad luck: I’m married to a hockey puck. I don’t know how it came about— A lover morphed into a lout! You’re a widow, not a wife, When hockey is your husband’s life. In his world, only...

. L O V E... It’s not a dozen scentless hothouse roses. __It’s not a chocolate-box of sweet cliché. It’s not the scorching kiss that lust imposes __To lead the fired and fevered flesh astray. It’s not an aphrodisiacal dinner __Or sighs in dizzy highs of fine Champagne. It’s not...

. Among the many flowers in the vase, ‘Tis I—the flower with the pretty face, Full humor, sound stamen, and skill in fun— Who is to say to you, Michele, “Well done.” As so the master charged.  Yet we who fade, Who soon, like him, shall die, know we were made...

. A Damsel in Distress A hot, courting Knightin blithering armourVowed on his horse he would never-ever harm herThen he revved up his stallion and bamboozled off hard,Heavy metaled to the damsel across the court yard,But the speed of his steed succeeded to alarm herSo she breathed a fast prayerto intercede for her karma....

C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden.  Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. 

. . The Tale of the Rose (Excerpt) by Christine de Pisan (1364-1431), translated by Margaret Coats . This Tale comes from the Paris home of the Duke of Orleans, brother of the King of France, where on Saint Valentine’s Day 1402, there assembled certain noble folk, rich in honor...