Beauty

Sonnet I: Liu Haixiao Mr. Liu Haixiao (pronounced Leo High-shaow) is serving a 16-year prison sentence in Jilin Province, China, where he was arrested for tapping into the local TV network to broadcast programs that debunk state propaganda demonizing Falun Gong. He has been given opportunities to walk free contingent...

A rhupunt A modern place that maintains grace a safer place for all who come The airplanes fly the city sky the mountains high you're never numb never alone away from home in temples roam to gods you'll hum No silenced love no eyes above a place free of dictators...

I. As clear blue symbols dance before my eyes, And I lie still, my head upon the ground, Each part of me, in dappled sunshine crowned, Wants formal shape in selfish compromise, And hides itself in Nature’s rich disguise – I watch my youthful fragments form a mound Of former...

  You Decide Some know me as Destiny, The weaver of the cloth of Time. Although my looms are never stilled, They say I choose how high you’ll climb, How fast you’ll fall, how great your name; I am the ruler of the game. Others think of me as Fate....

12/03/17 Of all ye gods, that crown Olympus high, Who yet remains that man’s not brought to heel? When aircraft daily pierce great Zeus’s sky, And Neptune’s depths have long since been revealed. Alas, the greenhouse did Demeter in, And eBay showed poor Hermes to the door; Now Hestia runs...

  Within what hut, My woodland maid, May I remain awhile? Next what fire may my chills Be warmed? Be there A path that leads Past stony piles and tells Us not to walk alone? I do not think, My woodland maid, Deep sleep my dreams will find; Nor will...

  You caught me staring at you yesterday, or so it seemed, for you—you smiled and blushed and all your girlfriends giggled in the hushed and stilted silence of the lecture. They had to have seen me staring your way too, slackjawed (old love has always been a child), transfixed...

The Day the Poetry Died Wonder why poetry is in decline, While not ever writing one lyric line? There is no experience more perverse, Than self-indulgent poems in free verse. Your pain, your angst, and existential doubt, Pretension endured day in and day out. Deep thoughts, believed you’re the first...

  The unchanging moor, but heeds season’s call To don her different well-coloured weeds, My heart is cold, left lonely; waterfall And bright babbling brook, pretend their proceeds Quell the vast sorrows of this tranquil scene, I feel unsure; their songs, certainly sweet, Are not for me alone, my wise...

The Cymbal Player As bows and fingers quiver strings, as lungs and lips whip up the air, as notes soar on great falcon wings, one player, seated in his chair like a finch hid in a maple tree, as if the creature wouldn’t dare trill out above the symphony (perhaps...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch in vacant mood I lie I feel their wealthy fluttering draw near. I see them toss their heads like twinkling stars; A sparkling, sprightly, jocund company. I gaze, I gaze,...

On the occasion of his birthday, 160 years ago, on February 27, 1848  At the Solitary Age of Twelve—Seven and Twelve Being Holy Numbers The first of seven early music books Reveals a boy methodical as Bach. He studies Bach’s first 48. He looks In detail, analyzing. “Let us talk,”...

  Budding darkness, in your starkness, void of noise and light, deliver me from what I see ’fore day turns into night. Guide me through the peaceful sea of dreamers far and wide, as welcome shores reopen doors to once-untarnished side. I yearn for trees and tranquil breeze; rich emerald...

  Living with Omnibenevolence Each one of us is furnished with an expiration date, And no one living has the power to elude his fate. There comes a time when every living creature has to die, But some will rest beneath the earth, and others in the sky. The latter...

Which Is the Grandest Name of All? Which is the grandest name of all? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Winter sere or crimson fall Churchill, Churchill, Churchill! Who held bold freedom’s flag so high Who gave brass tyrants all the lie Who forged in us the strength to die? Churchill, Churchill, Churchill!...

Tonight, I saw the moon Stalking me, watching me Hiding surreptitiously. She knows I know she's there She knows I do not care Reasons for and reasons why Curious, bold, or wee bit shy, A game, perhaps she feels So silently she steals Tonight, I saw the moon.   Jordan...

Insomnia Many's the night I lie in bed with words to write that fill my head. They twist and turn and jump and shout. Oh how I yearn to get them out! So off I go into my den. With lights turned low I lift my pen. At last I'm...

She sits in thoughtful silence, chin in hand, That old blue skirt hem covers her thin knees. Gazing west, the sunset’s  silvery bands Lengthening shadows from the maple trees. The porch needs paint; its steps are all adroop, The lawn is overgrown with Queen Anne’s lace. The whole world passes...

  I fear no more the settling of the night Or mind its grey, evaporating shades; Mine ears are deaf to time’s lost serenades, Mine eyes content with thy soul’s loving light. Thy morning’s halo puts the stars to flight, And warms me in its luminous cascades; And though the...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjc_6R0ang8&feature=youtu.be   It was once thought that swallows wintered on the moon, or morphed into field mice beneath the autumn swoon of clouds, or slept beneath wavelets on the floor of shadowy ponds and lakes until the sudden lure of springtime roused them from the kingdom of the dead. Early...

  Like feathered tip of swooping sparrow Our kinship cuts like that of arrows A brother’s love has weakened me I’ll take the slice, so brother be Shivered dreams of days that past Rivers gleam to drown mine fast Our friendship sank and swept to sea I’ll learn to swim,...

In another lifetime I was William Blake When I saw his work That was my take He wrote about love And the human heart I thought I was him Right from the start He wrote about London Tiger burning bright His influence looms In whatever I write He wrote about...

The sparkle on the river, the lights from distant shore, the cold and bitter glitter, the beckoning of more, Is beautiful to look at, ‘tis a pleasing sight to see, like a woman dressed for dinner, in all her finery. But all that shines is not silver, all that glitters...

  Between the trees, along the path I hear the woodpecker tap tap tap. Beneath the bridge, cyclists roll through Pedaling and laughing two by two. Friends holding hands, walkers with dogs, A spring in their step, the jogger jogs, On and on with strolling feet Hoping I'll find some...

Flower of Choice On native Australian flowers The wattle bears her gold in early spring As luminescent beads on woody strings, Spreading perfume ‘til the mild air brings Sweetness deep to every living thing. Diverting our attention from the gold, The waratah with fiery head unfolds Above alternate leaves each...

By Carter Davis Johnson In a period where American literature was considered peripheral and amateur, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) helped create a national literature to challenge European authors. His poetry heralded the unique mythology, history, and nature of America. With lucid imagery and accessible meter, Longfellow became a leading poet and...

(All poetry by Bruce Dale Wise) Hylas and the Nymphs by Beau Ecs Wilder John William Waterhouse's "Hylas and the Nymphs" must go; enchanting, pretty, water nymphs are far too much to show. Manchester Art has claimed it is unsuitable right now. It is offensive, and it must be censored,...

  Sun slowly dipping in the western sky; the winds are light and the pine boughs tossing. From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy, walk to the river; time for the crossing. To the fields above, to graze for a meal; prance through the meadow, always listening. Hear...

  A robin should fly south before the snow, With others in the flocks of migrant birds, Quite safe amid this seas’nal ebb and flow— To miss the chance would surely be absurd! Yet some stay on regardless of the cold, They brave the ice and front the blust’ry winds,...

  The Last Time I Saw Paris You have imagined how it was, I expect: Troy’s famous towers burning, the city wrecked, the lines of weeping captives marched away, the streets strewn with corpses, the shore blood-flecked. And the woman  who caused it all:  why, me! Crying to  throw myself...

At Lincoln’s Tomb Springfield, Illinois, 2016 Be glad you cannot rise to life and stand Outside that tomb to die again from shame At Illinois, your home, your prairieland, Transformed, yet quick to arrogate your name – A land of ruined hope, no longer great, Where silent foundries waste away...

By David B. Gosselin The nature of the subject matter discussed in Dante Alighieri’s lyric poetry, his canzoni, has been debated time after time, generation after generation. While the Dantisti as they are called, the Dante scholars, will often take up the habit of prating on individual details and individual poems,...

By Brett Forester Writing but one fine, enduring poem is a remarkable achievement. Writing a book of great poems is an even rarer triumph. Yet in 1820, British Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (born August 4, 1792 - died July 8, 1822) published just such a book: Prometheus Unbound, with...

  Stone Walls Sometimes a Prison Make What might have happened once in Carolina To folks whose only wish was for some peace Is commonplace within the Wall of China, Where persons are abused without surcease. A so-called government that treats its people Like livestock destined for the autumn slaughter...

  The Garden of the Gods A Cywydd Llosgyrnog When storm clouds hid the Manitou*, They cloaked invaders from his view: Giants* who engendered fright With fearsome height and thundered tread. Their horrid creatures ran ahead— Kindled dread and panicked flight. Before their jaws devoured the land, A shaman knelt...

  Lips, soft as velvet, primrose pink, Are rent the blue of bruising ink. They rive and crackle in the cold, Retract in tissue paper folds; Corroded strips as flayed as zinc Teased grey and gaunt, and growing old. Faint silver sands shake down like snow, Days melting slowly in...

  On Reading Ginsburg’s “Howl” Once, I possessed an open mind, Which I assure you was my own. I used it to read Ginsberg’s “Howl” Well, I don’t wish to be unkind But those words seemed randomly sown. My first reaction was a scowl. So I tried a second reading....

By Evan Mantyk Advertising for it is everywhere. If you haven’t seen it, you just haven’t been paying attention. A brilliantly colored image depicts a Chinese woman striking an airborne pose. But what is Shen Yun really all about? What does a performance involve? Whether you are a poet, an...

  The Old Westerns No more heroes on horses named Trigger No more rugged, chapped, white hatted figures The bad guys today do not always wear masks At least not the exact kind they did in the past. Though crime existed in those olden days In the end, the wicked...

  The Oddity My pen and me set off to sea but washed up feeling useless; the cadent swell invoked a spell and story of Odysseus. While pen-wrecked there I would not hear those rhythmic words like Circe's; this poem must be Penelope and I a new Ulysses.   Seventy...