Poetry Forms

. Haiku A grounded sparrow Wings hurt, head raised to the sky "Is this how I die?" . . A Snowflake From sky’s descent and earthward bound, __A snowflake, small and bright; It’s slow and steady, floating down, Until he lands without a sound, __And shrouds the dirt with white....

. The Spirit blazes in an upper room; A hundred twenty flames spout sparks to cast Christ’s wildfire on the earth, and make it bloom. The Magdalen, apostle unsurpassed, Conveys her fragrant nard to salve Provence, While Peter and Paul inspire an empire vast. New missioners serve far-flung nations’ wants:...

. Isolde and the Men of Stone Who could believe, except on ancient trust? The stones grew pliant, yielding into shape When softer nature touched them; human forms Emerged, as marble figures half-begun. —Ovid, Metamorphoses, I, 400-406 Her mind a buzzing hive, Isolde walks On gaping earth. An excavator’s teeth...

. The Purloined Lectern by C. Aubre DeWiles It was the fall, November, 2020, in the night. My friend, Earl Dolan Page, and I were chatting in low light. We sat within his little study in his little flat; there drinking wine, au troisieme. That is where we were at. At least...

. The Dove Returned The dove returned! The Earth is dry; A golden sun lights up the sky. This ark shall rest on land again Each creature freed from cage and pen, Each yearning bird released to fly! The old world’s gone. We’ll not decry God’s judgment though we’ll long...

. A Woke Recipe for Disaster a villanelle Heap fresh and zesty chaos on despair. Rub salt in history’s wounds till hatred sticks, Then sugar discontent with bogus care. Pour rage and scorn on free-speech freaks who dare To shower ice on mayhem’s spicy mix. Heap fresh and zesty chaos...

. At Matins’ hour, the middle of the night,I woke, and soon found I was not alone;A man who seemed past sixty to my sightThis sentence said, and sang it in good tone:O threefold God on the eternal throne,To be content and love Thee I have cause:My trifling youth is...

. There once was a very big lie, That our country refused to deny. While we did what they told us, To the Commies they sold us And we kissed all our freedoms goodbye. . . Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident and poet.

. Set your priorities—don't be uncouth—know the Secret to happiness lies in this truth: “Though the Sum of all things is a secret worth looking for, Perfect lasagna is something worth cooking for.” Take what you know, do a Ted Talk and teach on it. Don’t overdo it, present it,...

. We’re poets first-and-foremost and agree that meter, rhyme and rhythm oft are spurned; the plethora of poetry we see is free verse and should frankly be returned to sender if an emo, teenage brain or lovesick chump composed the referenced work whilst classicists are grappling to regain elusive words...

. Sestina 276 On the night of April 14-15, 2014, 276 mostly Christian female students were kidnapped from a high school by the Islamic terrorist group Boko Haram in Nigeria The dream was vivid, sickeningly strong, the type that wakes you up because extreme duress propels your pounding heart along...

. The Plague They muzzle their breath, Sealed in rooms as if in tombs, Scared to death of death. . . A Tale from the City They’ve worn my patience very thin So I wear my mask upon my chin “Nose exposed!”, a stranger’s cry! “Brains in chains!”, my swift...

. Cherry Blossom Viewing Like someone else, in unaccustomed dress, I choose that silken smoothness graze my skin __As fragile branches effloresce, Revealing vernal consciousness within Of transient white or pink I can caress With fingers titillating opaline Just opened buds exploding as they tease __My sight. They tremble; I...

. Ballade of Prayer to Our Lady (in the voice of the poet’s mother) by François Villon (1431-1463), from French by Joseph S. Salemi Lady of Heaven, who holds earthly sway And reigns as Empress of the hellish deep, Receive me, one poor Christian, as I pray That I may...

. If He came now, God’s only Son, To save a world that’s come undone Would we continue to defy His truth, to stoke the ruthless lie That claims His name is not the One? His Word torments the twisted tongue With light that blazes like the sun; Would we...

. The Bibliophile’s Birth Certificate Marius Michel (1846-1925) was one of the most prominent and gifted bookbinders in France. He produced work in strikingly beautiful and unique designs, and today his bound volumes are precious collector’s items. Marius Michel, maître de reliure, Bound my soul in fine-grained red morocco; Culled...

. . 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...

. 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...

. 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...

. 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...

. 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...

. 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...

. 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....

. 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...

X Every Little Thing I. His Version She treasured every little thing that you                gave her: the sparrow necklace (hazel blueto match her eyes) the bracelet slipped insidethe box of chocolate treats---the wine train ride.And it's not been just things, but moments too: the...

. Rosarium a sestina A rose arises red from its green sheath Adorned with swords that prick and pierce: the thorn, Whose vigil kept ensures its life's not brief. Unmatched in charm though fresh from garden born The rose enrobes in em'rald linen leaf Eclipsed only by ruby jew'lry worn. The...

. The Death of Today’s Sequoia Flecte ramos, arbor alta, tensa laxa viscera: Et rigor lentescat ille, quem dedit nativitas, Ut superni membra regis miti tendas stipite. —Venantius Fortunatus (c. 530-609 A.D.), lines from his hymn Pange Lingua Gloriosi translated at the end of this poem. The ring-counting post mortem...

. The Inca Kings Who stole the kings? Even Pachacutec's mummy now is gone from Lima's hospital display of Inca royalty—the T-Rex of them all, ferocity turned brittle bones and shrunken body in a sack, worthless to invaders seeking gold. The wisdom of the panther run amok, hapless Incas lost...

  Dear Edgar, __We’re sorry our response has taken so much time, but it grieves and pains to tell you that you’ve missed our paradigm. __While past works were droll and erudite ---nay, frighteningly “sublime!”--- we just couldn’t help but notice, Ed, Alas! This thing shows rhyme!     Tonia...

. Still   “Many eyes go through the meadow,  but few see the flowers in it” ---Ralph Waldo Emerson  I aim and shoot with fierce alacrity   As artistry unfurls before my eyes  In all its charismatic clarity:  The  gauzy  glint of scudding dragonflies;A butterfly’s sartorial gaiety  Caught wafting in kaleidoscopic   skies.  I wonder at  God’s windfalls  on the wing  And...

X No tengo más que darte —Inscription on a Spanish sailor's gold ring, in the shape of a hand holding out a heart, found off the western coast of Ireland. Their splintered hulls well-raked with cannon fire, Great sails shot ragged by hot English grape, The rigging singed or severed...

  Where are the leaves that branches bore? They’re falling fast on forest floor, A cornucopia outspread, Of orange, yellow, brown, and red: Reminders of a settled score. Ah this, my gloomy guarantor Henceforth of what I must endure: The dull, the dormant, and the dead. ___Where are the leaves?...

Heart of Darkness a rondeau redoublé A heart of darkness mocks and flouts the rules. It robs our orb of honesty and light. It tempts then toys with sycophantic fools--- Duped souls that sate the dark heart’s appetite. Its syrup-drizzled spin masks acrid spite That festers at its core then...

  Context Is Everything When you attempt to cut some string A hammer doesn’t do a thing— Jackknives matter. When life has gotten back to normal, And dining out means dressing formal, Black ties matter. When you are carted off to jail And wish that you were back at Yale,...

  Nothing Ventured an office romance "What more do you want?" he inquired without guile. ---Can it really be true that my feelings don't show?--- She marveled within, and, suppressing a smile, Inventoried the things he appeared not to know: I want more than greetings on alternate Mondays And occasional...

  Renowned but wayward Troy, vain Babylon, Harsh Nineveh, and languid Rome were felled; Long ago they exercised dominion, But since from their own lands have been expelled, Or kept small plots, where they disgruntled dwelled. Their sovereignty was lost when, hearts athrob With false ideals, they let themselves be...

  Vocations Always there are things we should be doing; Others, though, are better left unfinished. Also, there are ends well worth pursuing; Likewise, goals that leave a wight diminished. Everybody wants to be successful Launching some sublunary endeavor, Or to be a mild receptive vessel Filled with God’s amazing...

…anulbaṇáṃ vayata jóguvām ápaḥ. Weave ye the singers’ work without a knot. —Rigveda 10.53.6 Those pale cream swaths of handmade linen, brought From Sicily around 1905 Lay in our rag drawer over sixty years. We kept them for whatever simple needs Arose from time to time in household tasks: A...