Poetry

  Cotton candy is, yes, is angel hair spun out while merry-go-rounds whirl full-speed with satisfaction fully guaranteed in the local splendor of Blake’s Prairie Fair. Surely the most pageant-magic carnival since ’17, when Carrie Nation broke whiskey bottles, and poor old Bryan spoke silver-tongued on Charles Darwin’s downfall. The...

All poems by Bruce Dale Wise The Prisoners in Manacles by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei The prisoners in manacles in western China were just on a day out, stated the Chinese ambassador. The picture shows the people kneeling, shaven, wearing blinds. They’re being led to trains by guards—to trains—relaxing binds....

  Oh, When I Think Back Oh, when I think back to those halcyon days, When I believed the possibility That truest love would manifest to me And highest hopes would set the heart ablaze, I looked amidst the heat, and smoke, and haze To find this source of reciprocity,...

  Taj Mahal Built to commemorate a love that died Four hundred years ago, how sad to say She never saw what we can see today. Serenely does its massive bulk preside Above a seeming swamp on every side, The damp is almost palpable, the grey Sky vaunts its marble...

  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, by Joseph Lange (1783? / 1789?); as viewed by a Philistine Consider Lange’s well-known portrait Of his in-law, a composer: It’s good, we see, but it requires A scrutiny that’s closer. This fellow couldn’t get a job, Or keep one if he got it. Was he...

  Full Lives, Empty Souls after Ecclesiastes 6 There is an evil I have seen in those who live beneath the sun: A man to whom God gives both wealth and riches, and who knows respect among his peers, whose every room is filled with everything he might desire, yet...

by James A. Tweedie On my most recent visit to England in 2017, I paused to record a number of prominent grave monuments that included poetic tributes to the deceased. Here are the four I found most interesting from the standpoint of poetry. No doubt those of you who live...

  Laocoön To prophesy is not a gift to those So gifted, who can see in subtle signs What is to pass; they bear the double woes Of speaking truth to unbelieving minds And knowing none can thwart the gods’ designs. __With such impotent power upon his heart, __The prophet...

translated by Alan Steinle. Introduction and translation copyright ©2020 by Alan Steinle. Skip Introduction and go to poem.   Introduction Poetry is that which is worth translating. The poem dies when it has no place to go. —Eliot Weinberger My life has been the poem I would have writ, But...

  Rueing Tattoos When young she was drawn to that skin-art taboo of embellishing flesh with a tattoo or two. Now time’s marching on and gravity’s struck, her sweet chickadee is akin to a duck. And that spry butterfly, as blue as the sky, that graced blissful space at the...

  On Consecrated Ground Moses on the Mount; Exodus 3-4 Moshe, a Hebrew truant from His resident Egyptian land Committed crimes with this outcome: His life was now in Pharaoh’s hand. Absconding to a rural place In Midian, he found a mate And then a new trade to embrace: To...

  Tomoko When the Enola Gay dropped ‘Little Boy’, Tomoko---just a little girl herself--- Was robbed of any hope of earthly joy And sentenced to a life upon the shelf, Until, that is, she and two dozen more (The ‘Hiroshima Maidens’, all of whom Were suitably disfigured and, therefore, Fit...

"During the war, the Indian Army evicted Pakistani intruders and succeeded in recapturing Tiger Hill and other posts as a part of ‘Operation Vijay’. Indian soldiers had secured this victory after a three-month conflict that led to a loss of lives from both sides — the Indian side lost nearly...

Golden Gloves My father fought in Golden Gloves. Back then The ring was where you slugged your way to hopes. It was no place for fey, aesthetic men— There’s no nuance on canvas, or the ropes. I asked him, Dad, what does it mean to lace Into someone? He smiled,...

  A Proposal---July 28, 2020 Upon this date in 1794, The French Revolution concluded in gore, As Robespierre’s head hit the blood-stained floor Of Paris’s Place de la Concorde, Leaving poor France worse off than before. Instead of commencing a new revolution, Established on radical, naive solutions That spark civil...

All of the below poems were read on May 31, 2020 at The Society of Classical Poets Symposium, which was held online due to the pandemic. Below are poems from Session II.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRsff4CR7do Bad Move by Rob Crisell The sun is out this afternoon— There’s not a cloud up...

  How Monkeys Came to Be adapted from a Palestinian folktale Monkeys and people once were one. For monkeys had from Adam come. As Adam's sons in every way, Those monkeys looked like us today. Yet by mere happenstance was fated That monkeys from us deviated. A woman once in...

  The Gardener at War Throughout our lives we hustle and we slave __To turn our gardens into magic places __Where beauty at its pinnacle erases Our darkest intimations of the grave; But what mundane reward would ever save __Us from the unavoidable disgraces __Of having fought entire non-human races...

"One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes a revolution in order to establish a dictatorship." ---George Orwell We are the fearsome force for good who’ll overthrow your neighborhood; abolish cops, fight day and night until the wrong are thinking right. Just close your...

  Vera A fine and sunny Summer’s day And now our Vera’s slipped away. Auf Wiedersehen, we’ll meet again; We don’t know where, we don’t know when. A proper looker in the day, A smile to chase the blues away, The sweetheart of our boys abroad The lads of Juno,...

  Alike a trusted hand that comes to rest On harried shoulders to relieve the stress, This allemande fulfills its basic quest: Bestowing thorough genial redress. When just too much encumbrance blocks our way Or global evil comes to spoil our life, It’s time to change our course: to kneel...

  No Epitaph The lies lie heavy on his chest, Striped red, striped white, now tattered vest And soon to draw his final breath--- Who’ll mourn this Son of Freedom’s death? I look around, there’s none but me With ears to hear and eyes to see. Alone beside his rotting...

  How wild become the eyes! How fine it is to learn! That the beauty in the sky's Cold torch of perfect pearl, Or in the trunk of the laburnum With those swaying yellow leaves That catch the glitter of the sun And the power of its heat, Can cure...

  You had to act, because you heard the voices Within your head. Saint Michael came to you, Saints Catherine and Margaret. But what choices Did you have? You knew them to be true, Not demons or deceit or rank delusion, But speaking straight from God Himself. How bold You...

  With Sorrow Do I Leave It is with sadness that I write to tell you that I am resigning from The New York Times. ---Bari Weiss, opinion writer, 13 July 2020 With sorrow do I leave The New York Times. To vitiate your journalistic crimes, You brought me here...

  Enrobed in blue—enthroned and crowned—her Son, __With proffered blessing, safely in her hands— __The Queen of Heaven reigns on high as one __Who holds in love all those whom she commands. Her palace is the church which bears her name, __Her holy veil secure within its walls, __Where pilgrim...

on the 21st anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party's launching the persecution of the peaceful practice of Falun Gong on July 20, 1999   Hidden in a Flyer by Daniel Magdalen Slowing down my clockwork footsteps on the night-lit pavementFrom this workweek’s marathon, I start to scan a flyerGrabbed by...

  There’s beauty in the ordinary things like challenges and joys each season brings, the world of work and school, and kids at play between sunrise and sunset every day. There’s awe-inspiring glory to behold as tapestry of moon and stars is rolled across the sky, to gazers’ pure delight...

  I Make My Way by Joe Tessitore These times, indeed, have tried my soul. With lightening speed, I’ve lost control Of all that mattered in the past--- It drifts, now scattered, in a vast, Uncharted realm. Uncertainty Is at the helm and where I’ll be, No one can say....

  It's easier to not exist And yet existence does persist. Although I cannot fathom why, I cannot rest unless I try. To wonder why or how or when, Such is the way it's always been. As we orbit upon this ball, It seems odd to exist at all.  ...

  An old friend called on me today, past indiscretions to relive. Long decades passed since we had spoke; he hoped ill feelings I'd forgive. We had once been the best of friends but problems came as years flew by; we had gone our own separate ways--- a friendship left...

  Coming Home “Thank you for letting me come home,” she said To me the night she died, and I, tongue-tied, I could not answer her. I should have tried, I know, for tacitly her thoughts I read: “I shall not see the dawn, nor shall I tread This earth...

  Lockdown Leisure with apologies to W.H. Davies In lockdown life, should I but dare To take more time to stand and stare?--- More time to stand six feet away And gaze upon our world today: More time to gasp (while in a mask) At questions news show hosts don’t...

Your Smart Device a rondeau Your smart device was strange and new; It learned your voice and habits too; It played the songs you liked to hear; It answered your requests with cheer, And spat out facts without ado. You didn’t know what would ensue: You need it now and...

by Adam Sedia John Dryden In 1688, John Dryden, England’s first official poet laureate, was deprived of that title for remaining Catholic and replaced with the laughably inferior Thomas Shadwell. Dryden and Shadwell had long been rivals, exchanging literary attacks on each other. Dryden surely won that battle when he...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=21&v=kRrLsMIaDcM      

The Crowd by Christian J. Weaver The corpses of my former selves Are yawning in the waves. They bob and float like slimy logs; Their fish-expressions gaze With mute surprise at all the rest: It's crowded nowadays!       Christian J. Weaver, who is currently incarcerated, has been writing...

The King Lying lips win praise and fame, And money, pow’r and wealth; They grant great glory for your name But cost the price of self. For once a man betrays his plans To be upright and true, That blackening corruption finds A crack to slither through. And every further...

  Editor’s Note: This poem was originally found in The Pebbles and Shells: A Book of Verses ,1909, edited by Donald Fraser. Another version was published in The Good Humor Book, by Robert Rango, 1944. Edited by Beverly Stock Said little Johnnie to the Owl; “I’ve heard you’re wondrously wise,...

  Good François Villon, petty thief, Carouser, cutpurse, scholar, sot; Young chronicler of gallows-grief, Escapee from the hempen knot; Depicter of the dregs and lees Of drunken students, louts, and sinners; Of beggars, pimps, and hostelries, Of men-at-arms, and roast fish dinners; We need you here and now, Villon, To...