Poetry

. I, Satan, Now Will Have Your Dream You'll be no longer citizens, by my decrees declared. Get used to being residents (assuming you are spared by forces of invasion massed already here and more in numbers soon to be the crush through widely opened door ignoring trampled sovereignty abandoned...

.. . Slow Verse No need to rush: These lines have lots of time. They never face a hanging at first light. They can take pains to whittle a neat rhyme And years to get each subtle cadence right, But they can never take the hero’s part, They can’t shout...

. They’ll be coming for you soon, Chairman Xho. It’s an old, familiar tune that we all know. You’ve been howlin’ at the moon And they’ll say that you’re a loon And you’ll bring us all to ruin, Chairman Xho. They’ll say that you’re their bro, Chairman Xho. But you...

. “Ha ha,” is all she gives her Dad when he makes fun of what she said. No more parental Galahad who nightly carried her to bed. He’s just a jaded humorist who doesn’t even merit laughs from her which once were numerous. For now she deems such jibes are...

. We can “Build Back Better” if we choose “Truth Over Lies.” What these slogans promise lead us to a big surprise. When the new administration’s promises come true, This is what we’ll get when what they say is what they do: * * * Here’s a happy poem with...

. You ask me “why?”---the question seems to burn like you were made to seek out novelty, to stimulate your mind, explore, and learn: exactly why your curiosity is not so curious at all, to me! Your brain contains an elemental drive that underlies a trait to quest and strive....

. Twitter by Esca Webuilder The bluebird of unhappiness, that twits all day and night, does not like to be seen that much, especi’lly in pure light. It tries to hide among the bushes of the golden mean, but it is so far off of that, it easily is seen....

. Charles Maurras (1868-1952) was a highly influential French poet, essayist, and political journalist. He edited the rightist paper Action Française, and was a member of the French Academy. He wrote that the most important event in his life was an epiphany at the Parthenon in 1896, where he came...

. How good of you to do your best __for our great population. So we'll do right by your request __to heal our ailing nation. If we feel sick we'll stay indoors, __won't shout---just put a sock in. With metal plates you'll screw our doors __to help our healthy lock-in...

. The Senior Covid Blues I have read many articles about the virus particles that swirl about and sneak into our noses. I know it takes tenacity to keep one’s lung capacity and not look up and see the roots of roses! According to virology my system’s etiology does put...

. Lahaina Mynahs The droppings of a thousand Mynah birds (While nesting in a Maui banyan tree) Descended on my pre-teen daughter. Words Cannot describe her abject misery. Her shoulders, arms and hands were plastered white As were her t-shirt and her auburn hair. In shock, she stood there screaming—what...

. Blackwater River State Park A warm summer day. The kayak floats quietly. The cicadas sing. . . Nightfall at Pensacola Beach The sun has now set And not a light can be seen. What just made that splash? . . The Forts of Pensacola Bay The guns are silent....

The Best Poems of 2020: Winners of the 9th Annual International SCP Poetry Competition JudgesJoseph S. SalemiJames SaleEvan Mantyk Past First Place Winners Joseph Charles MacKenzie (2019) Adam Sedia (2018) C.B. Anderson (2017) James Sale (2016) Ron L. Hodges (2015), Reid McGrath (2014), Bruce Dale Wise (2013)Alan Nordstrom (2012) Based on...

The talent this year has been astounding. Thank you to every high school student who participated. You are the future of literature and are leading the way in rebuilding our civilization on the foundation of time-honored traditions, particularly excellent poetry. Keep up the splendid work! ---Evan Mantyk, Judge   First...

. Judges Margaret Coats Evan Mantyk . First Place ($100) Francesca Leader, Virginia "The Iroha Poem" by Kūkai (空海) (774–835) . Second Place Steven Monte, New York “Di pensier in pensier, di monte in monte” by Francesco Petrarch (1304-1374) Alexandra Guo, Singapore "Hymn to Beauty" by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) ....

. Beneath the starry firmament so dark There lies tonight an old, forgotten tree Whose bark is peeling, wretched, cold and stark And has not heard since auld youth’s melody. The crooked, blackened branches send a plea To heaven’s glowing mercies and respite For passersby mock its antiquity Unknowing of...

. The world is ruled by two men­---Jack and Zuck, More than their strange appearance their deeds suck. Jack’s goatee truly suits a Marxist boss Who for free speech and thought gives not a toss, While Zuck the Cuck with Chinese spouse has luck In getting socialists to pay a...

. Changeable and fickle is the woman. Some things she says, and surely thinks are so, defy a logic with a bent to wander beyond the bounds of any truth we know. Her reasoning, like multi-colored rainbows whose dissipating prisms on the wane confuse and yet impossible to alter by...

. First they came for the Jews, you see, And I did not speak out’ Because I wasn’t a Jew (not me!) I didn’t give a shout. Then they came for the Communists And I did not speak out; Seditious, Marxist Socialists, Deplorables, no doubt. Then they came for trade...

. Go, Fading Leaf __Go, fading leaf, Tell him who thought my heart to spurn __That life is brief (But briefer still his love did burn __I fool enough was to return). __Tell him who sold Our shaky venture for the rock __Of love grown cold: He ought to’ve taken...

. Everything is gone, gone. ____No one’s ever stayed: the family and the friends I loved, ____the bread my mother made. Nothing’s ever gone the way ____I thought that it would go- springtime brought me sickness ____and the summer gave me woe. The pain I thought would surely heal ____has...

. B.C./D.C. Where history and myth converge Two famous founders do emerge, Of nations that excelled at war. (Coincidence?  Or something more?) George Washington and Romulus Are equally eponymous, And they’re remembered nowadays In curious divergent ways: The latter founded seven hills; The former’s found on dollar bills. . ....

. How To Be Like Byron Bright butterfly, why do you fade Into that duller, browner shade That strays into the flame at night? You’ve lost your nature’s vibrant light And seek it in another source. For you, I’ll heartily endorse A colorful biography To help you live by, dogma-free....

. Daily we vent and cement our position In righteous and virtuous words. Unity fails if each crucial decision Is left to the whim of the herds. Deplorable plebs are so flawed and naïve When treading the foolhardy path That maddens our minds. Where’s the creed we believe? We think...

. Ode to Spring Oh glory be to things that grow! That burgeon, blossom, bud and blow In Springtime’s light and airy breeze, Which ruffles softly new sprung leaves. What tongue there be to justly praise The wonders wrought by Vernal days? These beauties bright which turn, indeed, Each frozen...

. . Father And John: How It Once Was Before self-righteous rules, brash and insistent,There was a natural rhythm, quite unspoken.So when my father hired an assistantTraditionalist, he followed rules unbroken. There was no power-structure interference—No lying résumés, self-serving spinningBy quasi-moral snoops. Avoiding nonsense,He struck the soul of it. John’s...

. The Verbum Dei Retreat Centre on the Isle of Wight aims to be a place of encounter with God We took the ferry; darkness closed; Warm lights ahead; who knew the way? Crowded in a car, pilgrims led For God knows what to Verbum Dei. They took the register;...

. Well, you beat the odds against you, though I think you rather knew That with media assistance, and a counting scheme or two, There would be a sudden shifting, like a tide, upon a whim, Moving in the wrong direction—though the odds are mighty slim. Now your face beams...

. I fear my motivation’s dead; there’s no one home inside my head. I’ve looked for it from dusk to dawn; I tell you, it is really gone! The situation is quite dire; my neurons will no longer fire. I worry that I’m up a creek while it’s off playing...

. Tyrants would distribute largesse, a bushel of wheat, a gallon of wine, and a sesterce: and then everybody would shamelessly cry, “Long live the King!” ---Juvenal Keep a mind that’s blind to widened outlook. Recite the writing on the PC wall. Preach from Satan’s trick-the-trusting playbook, Where speech is...

.   January 25 is the birthday of Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759–1796). On or near this day, Scots worldwide gather for a supper of haggis (traditionally made of sheep innards), whisky, and poetry. Henderson’s Salad Table is a vegetarian legend. This vibrant family business had expanded to three locations...

. A coat of luminescent snow Descended on my patch of grass, And for a moment all its glow Inflamed my eyes like burnished brass. And in a moment it had gone, But not withdrawn; it nimbly turned Into a floodplain on my lawn, A flood of slushing drops concerned...

 . Long View Cottage The view is long and dark atop the mountain where I roam. Birds sing a little sweeter in a high and softer tone. The people gave it many names; I only call it home. The fog hangs thick and wet just like a wave crest with...

.   Earth Song We longed to see Norway's Northern Lights,That great, magnetic, celestial balletOf colour, one of nature's majestic sights:'Not to be missed at any cost'. The clicheWas ironic; we'd scheduled just one dayIn Oslo, and then we would be on our wayNorthwards---but quarantine prevailed.With lockdown extended and restrictions imposed,We had no way out; borders were closedAnd all attempts to...

. On Rembrandt's "Return of the Prodigal Son" Three centuries have passed since it was wrought--- A work of art transcendent yet humane. The tender play of feelings Rembrandt caught: A wastrel son disgraced, prostrate with pain; Humiliated by the sin he sought But somehow freed from Pride’s eternal stain,...

. The Death of Adam Excerpted from Musings on Piero della Francesca’s “History of the True Cross,” in the Church of San Francesco, Arezzo, Italy There’s always both: the sacred and profane. The right tends to the former, left the latter. The weak side’s earthbound, ugly, heavy matter, where even...

. Even then Cassandra, who, by the god’s decree, is never to be believed by Trojans, reveals our future fate with her lips.  —Virgil, The Aeneid (Kline translation) Surcease, Cassandra, stop that whining. We’ve heard what you have said. Enough. Come pour yourself a glass of wine and make, as they...

. Stream Above the bend, the water deep and clear, the current strong; seen from the Buckman Bridge, ten minutes walk for me, my cabin near, through pines down from a timeworn granite ridge —a lofty mountain once, it’s said, in time gone by. I come to see and hear...

. Daddy came home from “the war to end all war” And seemed, at first, one of the lucky ones. He looked exactly as he had before, His flesh untouched by bullets, gas, or bombs. But not his memories…soon enough, we found The things he’d seen and done were always...

Seven inches, simple dark design My modern mind disdains the notion That the measure of devotion Is the size or splendor of the shrine. Spilling supplications, meat and wine My ancestors with deep emotion Worshiped as a magic potion Stones that smoothed their steps to the divine. Sparse to me...