Beauty

. Officium Defunctorum Spiritus meus attenuabitur, dies mei breviabuntur, et solum mihi superest sepulcrum. —Job 17:1 There is no need for first or final vow; Our cities all are monasteries now, And every squalid garret is a cell Where oblates reach for heaven out of hell. There is no light,...

. La Sirena At some point they ceased to be beautiful. Even their voices. Bare breasts, bare arms, screams Savage as acid swamped the scholar-priest His reasoned teaching fading from his lips. Bare breasts, bare arms, black stripes across their eyes. The cover granted to anonymous hate. That doesn’t make...

. So Much Depends upon a Dog So much depends upon a dog The earth revolves around the sun. Each day revolves around our jog— unclip your harness, watch you run, and sniff where other dogs have wet. So much depends upon a dog. Across the sky, the tempests jet...

. Snowflakes Now soft and white the snowflake clusters fall. The wind picks up and blusters. Millions drift Like powdered sugar shaken by a baker’s sift, All the same to the naked eye. A fractal, However, proves that’s not the case. Each flake Was once a microscopic hexagon Of radial...

. Poetic Influence true stories I His baby girl with Mom at home, The work bus carted him away. His mother emailed him a poem (Which he would read on break that day) About another doting dad, Who saw his baby daughter’s ear Of seashell shape and knew God had...

. Odysseus Begs? He’s leaning on a Pluto niche machine: an ATM, balanced on his good leg— a fresh appearance in an ancient scene— a bandaged hand gropes slowly out to beg. Was he Odysseus, sail raised to breeze, carving current never plied before? Herodotus, or old Diogenes? Or mad...

. "Instructions Set in Bone" by Peter Lillios was first published by the Society of Classical Poets here. Now songwriter Joseph DeNatale has created a version with adapted lyrics below. . . Instructions Set in Bone (Music Lyrics) With my own knife, by my own hand, I carve these words...

. Extinction Event The sky burned black the day the giants died. A flaming mountain pierced the turquoise bay. When doomsday comes, the clever know to hide. The thunder woke a mammal safe inside the burrow where our pink-skinned forebears lay. The sky burned black the day the giants died....

. Pastoral Calls—Part 1 of 3 . Best Friends Three boys; best friends at school; now men with wives. Between them, seven children called them “Dad.” They drank, they drove too fast and lost their lives. “They were such good boys, too,” folks said. “How sad.” A hunting trip each...

. Morning Glory The morning mist at last has dissipated. The noonday sun is climbing to its height In cloudless skies of blue, where larks, elated, Fly round the day’s bright beaming crown of light. All earthbound creatures bow beneath the rays The sovereign sun on one and all bestows,...

. Sonnet to a Miracle upon reading the recent news story here.  They’ve named her Miracle, that new born child found in the earthquake’s rubble, still attached to she who gave her life though hers was snatched. A neighbour cut the cord and Fortune smiled upon this dusty innocent whose...

. Double Ballade of a Crusader by Conon de Béthune (c.1155–1219) translated by Margaret Coats It would be well to fight this zeal For making songs and penning poetry, Since I should conquer faults I feel, Leave her, best mistress of all gallantry (Through whom I ought to rectify my...

. A Wild Horse Legacy: The Saga Begins is a 14-chapter narrative poem written by Michael Pietrack. In this excerpt, the young and fearful protagonist Abelbee receives guidance from his father, Baldwinbee.  “Imagine both a man and wild horse, a clash of strategy and will and force. The animal refuses...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDSWs61Ye0E . Sonnet XVIII of the Sacred Rhymes by Lope de Vega (1562-1635) translated by Martin Rizley What have I, that you’d seek me as a friend? What interest draws you, Jesus, to my door, All drenched with dew, as you have come before, In winter’s dark, the long...

. Trust My life unfolds as time goes by. Some days I laugh. Some nights I cry. I yearn for peace, as all folks do. When stress prevails, my doubts accrue. Grim darkness lures my peace and hope. From deep inside, I strain to cope. Life’s peaks are tall, its...

. The City, 1852 by Hans Theodor Woldsen Storm (1817-1888) translated by Dusty Grein Past the gray beach, beside the gray sea, lies a wondrous gray city of old. Heavy fog blankets the roofs all around and in silence, the sea roars quite bold. No rustling of trees in the...

. The Shadow of My Sorrow As soon as day has dawned and night is done, The shadow of my sorrow follows me, Outgrows the shape by which it came to be, Consuming it when night is new begun; And being my likeness, how can I outrun My other self,...

. Time Travel I chance upon a sylvan glade, an Orphic place: moon threads, a lace of nightkin shadows. A trill of breeze awakes the guardian trees, live oaks in gowns of moss, tall runes of pine. I hear the soft slow sound of fairy rings, up from the inner...

. Castile by Miguel de Unamuno (Spain, 1864-1936)translated by Cheryl A. Corey O Castile! You raise me up in the rugged palm of your hand;To the sky that burns, that cools, that holds you under its command. A mother of hearts and arms for a land that’s sinewy, lean, and clear;Who...

. The Snuff Box from a true story told in My Mother by Fr. Bernard Vaughan (1847-1922) When I was just a little boy, My mother served us shepherd’s pie. We thirteen children sniffed with joy, With statue faces, on the sly. But quenching hunger was my goal, So while...

. So Close By At one point I was told that I Was purposely created by Some perfect being in the sky Who watches as I live and die. If that was true, I wondered why When perched atop His throne up high He’d let creation go awry; I asked...

. Comfort I gaze upon the endless sea against high cliffs, on golden sand— her everlasting majesty. Through ages rolling wild and grand, oblivious to time and space, against high cliffs, on golden sand. Her every mood my cares erase— there’s healing in each surge and flow, oblivious to time...

. Practical Philosophy The mind is meant to lead the body, And not the other way around. Permit no workmanship that’s shoddy, And build foundations plumb and sound. The godless, too, exalt their gods, Though often in the guise of science. Like little peas in brittle pods, Their order suffers...

. Life on the Farm Daddy’s gone. Is he sleeping? For only the shell remains. I hear the cries of cicadas. I listen to their pain. Momma, why are you weeping? Did Daddy push you away? Her tears rob the cicadas, And we live in silence today. Pain is the...

. The Land of Dreams written on the eve of India's Republic Day of India which is celebrated on Jan. 26 every year Some distance far away, the drumbeats sound __And echo victories now past; __Where clouds of slavery had cast Their shadows; every place a battle ground, And every...

. Look Up and See the Music Psalm 19:1 In winter, when the atmosphere is still And cold, and when the nighttime sky is clear, The stars and planets, fire and ice, blast chill- Blazed, hot-white light so bright as to seem near. No “Twinkle, twinkle little star,” for in...

. The Stonechat Listens at the Asylum Window I fear I might mistranslate what you said And lose the very essence of your words. May I record you as I do the birds: The warbler, shrike and wren, red’s wild-combed head Who can’t fly straight because his wings are strained...

. Note: Burns Night is when Scotland’s most important bard, Robert Burns (1759-1796), is celebrated, usually with the recitation of Burns’ poems, the eating of haggis, and the drinking of whisky. It occurs on January 25, Burns’ birthday. . An English Sonnet for the Scottish Bard for Burns Night Tonight, I’m...

. The Problem of Good a Petrarchan sonnet If there’s (the armchair philosopher maintains) A God (most likely writing in his blog), Then why’s the world in such a dismal fog Of evil will and endless human pain? Each day the whole thing just gets more insane And sad. No...

. . On Alma Tadema’s Coign of Vantage Flora peeks over the marble parapet, a dizzying perch above the azure Aegean. The Roman fleet is returning. 'Tis the season to flirt, to catch a lover in her net. Julia and Livia stand close, her bosom friends. Tomorrow they’ll break their...

. Ever Flowing Upon the rushing river’s bank I stand, deep water, ever flowing as it goes. The turbulence of my life it reflects as if my mortal pain, it truly knows. I close my eyes while cruel heartache builds and boils. It swirls and churns from deep within, akin...

. John Adams in Heaven John and Abigail Adams are being guided through heaven by John Milton. He takes them to a villa in the Elysian Fields, where they meet a famous Roman who shows them a vision of their political ancestors. Near spartan fields that nurtured simple roots, A...

. Bats at Sunset The monster is rotund, vile, enormous, three-muzzled, and barking ---Vasily Trediakovsky, after Virgil The woods are lovely, dark, and deep ---Robert Frost Last night the bats were flying so low that I could see their faces. Each of them looked like a Soviet relative of mine,...

. The Calendar You are the festive dregs of January,you liven February with Valentine’s.You are the March that gives spring sanctuary,you are the splashing rain April confines.You entertain the shaken buds of May,then are the shining June that bronzes all.You’re endless July---every holiday,you’re balmy August thwarting autumn’s pall.You are September’s...

. Moments from Dante’s Inferno Prepared to travel, if the gods allowed, I saw the woods were dreary, dark as death. I chose to heed a blessing there endowed, before emerging spirits took a breath. And that was Virgil, orator and font of god-like wisdom. He began to speak: "The...

. Banish the Thought Who are you? Not me, I know You creep and crimp my edges fray, An apparition of Dickens’ play--- Who are you? Not me, I know. Push and prod and now you’re in, Little sprite you always win--- Who are you? Okay, I know Like tug...

. Swimming with Dreams and Memory My childhood dreams and memories remain through adulthood and old age. My doll speaks. My toy car surfs that tidal wave, again. I’m still afraid of darkness, and the creaks and groans of our sleeping house at night. My mother, long-dead, beckons from a...

. Gloucester in July A thousand silent saints and angels Hewn from vertex, plane, and angle Raised by blow of mason’s hammer Raised from stone to watch the faithful Underneath the sinners stammer Pray and weep, confess and clamber The thousand faces, gray, unblinking Witness judgement’s heavy hammer Saints and...

. Beatitude Be glad and smile, for they revile, The Truth they mock and put on trial, The Beauty they do not possess, The Good, they curse, and will not bless, For Christ foretold this world’s own bile. Sit back and watch your mirth beguile, A culture which has no...

. El Pescado They gloat: the age of Pisces, it is over. They chant to call Aquarius’ forces in. In the deep labyrinths we sought the sign, The two-stroke fish, walls clammy, glittering. The old Mass book fell open in my hands: The prayer for government, prayer for the king,...