Culture

. Those Who Go Down to the Sea in Ships a poetic paraphrase of Psalm 107:23-30 The men who go down to the sea in their ships, Who sail on the water and pursue their trade, The sound of the sea echoes back from their lips; Their eyes see the...

. Abortion “My body, my choice” All her life that seemed best, And especially where There was rape or incest. But as early as twelve weeks A fetus feels pain, And in just eight weeks’ time Facial features are plain. Thus “my body, my choice” Can no longer seem right,...

. Plum Blossom Blessings The pine, bamboo, and plum are winter’s friends, Yet plum trees bloom to overcome the chill And herald spring. Resilient health extends Throughout my struggling mind and body ill; Spiced fragrance with that ruby beauty blends. Flame-draped in cozy apricot orange twill, A wealth of blossoms...

. The Blood of Revolution  The blood of revolution fills my veins; Of those who fought to sever tyrant’s chains, Of those whose voice of freedom wasn’t kept Silent as enslavèd justice wept. Of mothers who begat the strong and brave, Who begat my country with the blood they gave,...

. Tel Shikmona Mosaics here surprise: you wouldn’t know, tramping on thistles, dry late-summer stubble and tripping over rubble, stumbling, slow, that this rough trail leads to the long-ago till suddenly—a broken arch, a floor patterned in blue red black, flowers and birds outlined in tesserae; below them, words in...

. Sir Percival A quiet desperation lives within my soul: to find the Holy Cup, the Grail; to touch something beyond this mortal pen, and taste my God, His blood, from Cross’s nail. I am not worthy, this I know too well, though we are all the Son, all Christ,...

. Never Again Never again, beneath the sun Would mortal beings come undone. A pledge arose and soared on high--- It warmed the heart and lit the sky The day the force for freedom won. Yet now cruel camps with state-forced gun Are guarded by the soulless Hun And nowhere...

. Bach in Heidelberg for Marjorie Bach’s chorus didn’t leave us much to say After the Easter Monday concert in The Holy Spirit Church. Taking our way Over the Old Bridge seemed like we’d just been Visiting Heaven.  The flooded Neckar’s din Blurred the cantata fading in my head, As...

. The Attempt to Curse J.K. Rowling Once upon a time the stars aligned To strike a writer bound for King’s Cross Station As if by magic with this happy thought: Suppose a boy to his surprise should find He was in truth a wizard? Inspiration! And thus was Harry...

. The Demons of the Night All since she left me I have lived in fear Of creatures dwelling in the shadows here, And all around and pressing into me With pallid faces I can scarcely see. For they are hooded and a sickly grey Who never any malice will...

. The Two Corteges by Joséphin Soulary (1815-1891) | translated from French by Hadyn Adams Within a church two groups of people met: An infant’s funeral cortege, the first: A woman followed, her heart fit to burst Within her breast repressing her regret. The second for a baptism all set;...

. On the Cost of Doing Evil I care not if the sky burns red and human flesh is seared. I pray that all souls will just rot as many long have feared. I wait for when the birds don’t fly and locusts take the grain. I hope the fertile...

. Toasting Burns    His words ring out from windswept glens. __They lilt from lapping lochs. I see love through his red-rose lens; __I hear the midnight clocks In castle nooks chime Auld Lang Syne __As kilted suitors croon To bonnie lasses rapt with rhyme __Beneath a Highland moon. His words will please till seas gang dry __And rocks melt wi’ the sun. They soar beyond Ben-Nevis high...

. Dystopia Reality is never what it seems To be.  It hides itself in shrouds of mist, In bulging envelopes of gilded dreams, In requisite pronations of the wrist That guides the palsied hand that holds the pen. What good is it to cry that life’s unfair If one does...

. Mourning the Dead by Li Qingzhao, Southern Song (1084-1155) | from Chinese by Talbot Hook Above in the heavens the star-river flows; Down on the earth the curtains hang low. As the air grows chill, and my pillow tear-damp, I arise, untying my robes just to know The hours...

. To Tchaikovsky by A.N. Apukhtin (1840-1893) | Translated from Russian by Olga Dumer With my musician friend’s departure A minor key pervades my lines. Yet, like a fugue’s evolving texture, Old friendship amplifies with time. We played together, with bravura, Our youthful daring prelude. Since adolescence, fame’s allure Thrilled...

. The English Cantos: StairWell Canto 4 Leaving a broken relationship of the past behind in Canto 3, the poet enters a new world of education and what that means. Before entering a specific establishment, the poet has to catch up with Dante and Virgil who have forged ahead. But...

. Rescuing Contemporary Poetry from Vers Libre The conservative & informal vs. the free Before addressing my thesis, let me explain my choice of the word conservative in identifying a category of poetry, basically that which employs meter, often rhyme, and addresses traditional themes. Most would use the word formal....

. The Heroes of Beijing on the Jan. 21 movie premiere of Unsilenced, just days before the Beijing Winter Olympics As great as it may be to send those hockey Pucks on icy wisps of air into A net as sweet as tightly guarded honey, It is, at root, a...

. Apocalypse The fractured sky splits, flaming at the edge— The earth heaves upwards in explosive wrath. No eye can bear the clay-caked risen dead Sleepwalking through the streets in blackened shrouds. The seas turn into boiling, viscous blood And everywhere, unending trumpet-blasts, Swarms of gnawing locusts whose foul wings...

. Self-Exile "Parue—nec inuideo—sine me, liber, ibis in urbem.” —Ovid While driving underneath I had to pray: the tunnel, God, had better not cave in— as if New York could make the earth obey. My Lord, I won’t let New York City win. I well recall the moment's clarity as...

. O, Brother Surveillance permeates us now,__George Orwell saw it coming.Stamped social credits mark our brow,__the cityscape is humming, The virus hum, the wifi hum,__a background, humdrum silence,Something wicked here has come,__evil backed by violence. Not private now nor personal,__each facial line's a password—More database than physical—__where living dead are...

. The Winter Games Go On Although detainees must sleep in cramped cells on cement floors, and though they must wear shackles with their numbered uniforms, and though repression crosses Xinjiang’s pale locked-down sky, the corporate industrial complex won’t bat an eye. Although Hong Kong was once a base of...

. Living The Dream   “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin,   but by the content of their character.” ---Martin Luther King, Jr. The USA gives thanks---hurray For Martin Luther King--- A good and gracious grand display For one who rose above the...

. Martin Luther King, Jr. Meets Today’s Left How would the Left see Dr. King Just what reaction would they bring If he today could be our guest Reviving messages expressed? How would the Left see King today? Not positively, I must say. Support for words like his seems slim....

. I Grieve Bleak Streets I grieve bleak streets where handguns reign in terror Daring inner-city residents To duck and cover. Life used to be fairer Years ago, when mayors and presidents, Police, and everybody else refused To tolerate a minor misdemeanor, And those who broke the law were not...

. A Truthful Triolet I want the truth. I want to trust The words that trip from lips that lied. I want all doubt to fade to dust. I want the truth. I want to trust. Truth hurts. Truth heals. Truth's heart is just. My faith in you, it hasn’t...

. Civis Romanus Sum (I am a Roman citizen) As Paul stood bound and for the whip outstretched, He said to the centurion beside, “‘Tis lawful here for you to flog a wretch, A Roman citizen and not yet tried?” The mere centurion on hearing went And to the tribune...

. The Spirit of the Anti-Mary a poem in honor of Our Lady of Gualalupe in reparation for the crime of abortion and abortion-tainted medicines All those who seek me find eternal Life, But those who sin against me snuff life’s breath, And plunge into their souls a blood-stained knife,...

. The Artist Intuitive journey, subconscious creations refuse to diffuse while the muse makes the choice to infuse mystic magic with personal voice giving birth to original manifestations. Works will cement while fermenting with feeling revealing a meaning unique to each eye. “No one knows why,” says the strange passer-by,...

. The Lost The fog rolled heavy, down to blunt the day, Sharp skyscraper tops dissolved into the gray. Pale ghosts condensed, one here or there, lone, gaunt: Scared eyes, blank masks, as if condemned to haunt These empty streets that once were thronged with life. They hurry with held...

. The A-bomb Dome in Hiroshima The epicentre of the blast was here, This dome, its empty ribcage gaunt and bare, It stands mute testimony to the day A Superfortress, the Enola Gay, Took to the cirrus-marbled cobalt skies Above Hiroshima, unwished-for prize, Its mission: razing of necessity By nuclear...

. Fleet of Foot Pheidippides A Grecian runner named Pheidippides, From Athens, ran to Sparta with a plea. “We need your help to fight the Persians, please!” But Sparta sent him back with, “Nosirree!” Two-hundred eighty miles is what he ran, For four or maybe five days he was gone....

. Cascading Nation Now not so much a nation as a place for pushing through a bruit cacophony of cultures in discordant synergy, dismissing calm consensus, wit, and grace as if considered discourse would abase befuddled masses yearning to breed free and manifest a new world destiny while tumbling headlong...

. St. Joseph’s Admonition Forget yourself, and do what’s right, Remember how you gained your sight, So do not pause to quench your pain, Your will is strengthened by the strain, But weakened if you do not fight. Pick up your sword and slay with might, The demons who tempt...

. It’s Coming for You! It’s coming to devour you, you know. There’s no escape no matter where you go. It waits and watches, hides behind the door With fetid breath from pathogenic spores. Far worse than covid’s variants, it drains The life force from the body and the brain....

. The Ninth Day of the Emperor's Wrath a rondeau redoublé The stadium roared at the end of the fight. In triumph the victor uplifted his sword. The emperor signaled thumbs down with cold spite. Death’s blow entertained the degenerate horde. The Christian who died was placed onto a board...

. Good Conscience Under our cauls a sleepless giber lurks, A callous judge of all our selfish smirks Who slices through our veils of self delight To show us prancing for unholy cirques. Our ego tells us to ignore the frights Our conscience lays before us every night And every...

. Sonnet by José de Espronceda (1808-1842) | translated from Spanish by Adam Sedia Fresh, lush, pure, and perfumed luxuriantly, The blooming garden’s flair and ornament, Coxcomb perched on the stem's filament, The budding rose-bloom sets its fragrance free. But if the burning sun stirs angrily, Shines flaming in the dog-days’...

. https://youtu.be/dYyxThEY71o . An Excerpt from The Western Star for Epiphany, January 6, 2022 The road stretched out forever in the morning, giving Balthazar plenty of time and space for thought. The meanderings of his mind returned to that strange gift old Caspar meant to give in honor of the...