Humor

  With lifeless smiles she's sitting tight in the vase. With painted flowers, leaves and twigs she's like a dressed deadman on funeral day. Let days and months pass by; forever she's childlike innocent sans conceit and crooked ways. I mizzled some perfume on her and tried to adjust her...

Winners announced here! Write a short poem that begins with one line from any Shakespeare play or poem. The poem should be two to four lines in length. Post it in the comments section below under your full name and general area of residence (“Bob Smith, Denver, Colorado”). Two entries...

Riddle No. 1 So astounding is this part— A major muscle, like your heart. And so astonishing its job, Without it you would be a blob: You couldn’t stand or lift or bend— You’d be a pretzel in the end. A couch potato you would be For life, if you...

Irrelephant Within the room there’s something big, But management ignores it. A redwood tree, not tiny twig? Concern they haven’t for it. Though elephant is in the room, It’s on the mouse they focus. Oblivious to pending doom, Like python ‘bout to choke us. Irrelevant is anything That doesn’t suit...

  Dust to lust to disgust to trust to must to just to dust.     Wm. Walters is a professor of English and linguistics at Rock Valley College, in Rockford, IL. His poems have appeared in literary magazines such as Chiron Review, Foliate Oak, and The Recusant and in...

Streamlined In some alternative reality I have remained unmarried, all alone. Would that have been a better way for me - Some Spartan bachelor flat, my comfort zone? Just having to look after number one: Selfish perhaps, but oh, what liberation! All the creative things I could have done –...

  —from A Gallery of Ethopaths What generates the half-assed views That this dimwit nation spews? Why are persons mindless lemmings? From what source is this stuff stemming? Collapse of character’s the cause: A nation’s strength lies not in laws Or money, soldiers, guns, police— These things just maintain the...

Epigrams on the Decay within Academia   Liberal Artifice "Progressives," through advanced miseducation, Have shaken our fair land to its foundation.   Gustatory Chiasmus Good taste is timeless, sound, and with us always; Good times are tasteless down collegiate hallways.   Lazy The profs who plant their feet on vinyl...

Read the poetry of the recently departed John Whitworth at Trinacria or The Poetry Archive. by Sally Cook Any ordinary poet composing a landscape piece might easily imagine a dull blue sky, one small white cloud, and a narrow strip of grass from which a single stump protrudes. That sort...

An Ode to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern 50 Years Later A Poetic Summary of Tom Stoppard’s Award-Winning Play As Seen Through the Eyes of Its Two Leading Characters Says Rosencrantz to Guildenstern, “I fear dear Hamlet’s lost his mind.” Says Guildenstern to Rosencrantz, “He says he’s locked up, chained, confined Within...

  Birthday Apology William Shakespeare was born April 26, 1564 If all the world’s a stage, and all the men are women, myne eye be true, I gauge; her beard doth need a trimmin’!     The Last Poet Advanced in years and bent in bone, I shed no tears;...

  The Canada Geese used to migrate each year. They’d summer up there and spend winter down here. Their nests were in Canada, home of their birth. From there they would fly to the ends of the earth. Each Spring they would longingly turn their eyes home And fly back...

The Melancholy Snowman Though stony-eyed, I watched the finches glide. The chimney smoke, the builder slide, At night, I gave the constellations words, The House, the Builder, and the Birds. My silver ear was filled with tree-ish taps, And twiggy fingers twitched with sap, I wondered if the rain would...

  When May became P. M., she had a doggéd view - Her Parliament majority would fly us through: All Brexit documents on leaving the E. U., All Acts of Parliament, all formal how-d’ya-do, All business needs, all travel, borderline decree, Could all be pushed along by her majority. Alone...

  The Pregnant Woman The Pregnant Woman nests a baby seed Who's ever pressing on her very core While her body adapts to baby's needs She's feeling aches she's never known before. A linea alba marks a fibrous path, A vertical white line on her flesh Of God’s exacting hemispherical...

  —from A Gallery of Ethopaths The world is filled with brainless brats Who all insist on having tats. These morons with their inked-up bods Walk about like savage gods Displaying, to the public’s view, A poisoned skin of garish hue. Their ugliness defies belief— Your mind’s been shipwrecked on...

  From the stations they sent out a call To their jillaroo friends - one and all; For an overnight camp, while the sky bore the stamp Of a cloudless day darkened from view. So they came in farm utes, with their dogs: Kitted out in their boots, working togs;...

Who Needs QU? It’s time to retire Q-U. K-W’s logical choice. What’s Q do that K cannot do? And U’s vowel that has its own voice. Inkwire why bother with this, A kwest to our language refine? It skweeze’s down alphabet’s list And generates kwaint little rhyme.   Purple Reign*...

  “Jingle Bells, jingle all the way” I sang to her to break the spell of what appeared to be her fell demeanor. Neither would she bray ‘in a one horse open sleigh’ “Hey!” but droned as if to undersell the joyous sense that all was well. She seemed more...

by Evan Mantyk As the border wall with Mexico that President Trump is building gains greater and greater attention, so too has the early 20th century poem, “Mending Wall,” by American poet Robert Frost. The poem takes issue with the old proverb “good fences make good neighbors,” which happens to...

I start to age ten minutes out of bed, More fragile now but not yet dead. My son-in-law hovers round me when I walk In case I stumble as we talk. My daughter’s gift to me: a three-pronged cane Concealed within the quiche Lorraine. A stranger volunteers his seat to...

Star Needles A star is just a bauble stuck on what We view as sky.  Lest it let winter in, We join sky fabric back together. When It makes a split, a slice of light slips through The center of each constellation, but The weave behind the moon where stars...

by Gregory Spicer “Death and taxes” bemoan us now, as ever. Yet as I bask in the fading embers of Christendom's most sentimental season, my mind freshly equips itself for the new year by conjoining three of the most extraordinary poems of yesteryear. The "ladies first" ideal has me wanting...

The Fiancé inspired by Anthony Trollope’s "Can you forgive her?" (1864-1865) Alice, he wants your money, honey. Alice, he wants your cash. He’d never ask you without it don’t doubt it – He’s wild; but that would be rash. He’s no use for Alice in theory, dearie; He’s no use...

Dedicated to far too many of my contemporaries, and they know who the hell they are. I. I am the perfect poet— I strike a dainty pose. I sniff the air for floral scent And elevate my nose. I’m not a coarse and graceless type Who spouts obscene derision. Instead...

Transhumanism Somewhere about there’s a slithering sound of man’s enmity, causing excitement and casting the seeds of calamity, claiming enlightened revision of old postmodernity. Oh! But the thought is as novel as man in eternity. Lewis and Ransom have shown us to view the transhumanists in the same light as...

. Sonnet II: Liu Xitong Liu Xitong (pronounced Leo She-tong) recently spoke on Capitol Hill about the persecution he faced in communist China for his practice of Falun Gong. Read about the event and his story here.  They strip him down, but cannot strip his soul. They splash on salty...

Author's Note: This Sonnet, formatted as both prose and poetry, is written as a parody of James Joyce; specifically, his final two novels, Ulysses and Finnegans Wake. For the record, I number myself among the vast horde of readers who once made a sincere and determined attempt to read Finnegans...

a sequel to “Let’s Take the Other Bus” Welcome, young friends, to this great university. I am your counselor, Dr. Diversity, here to advise you on all of your classes and campus life, brimming with fun and perversity. Visit our Safe Spaces in every lecture hall: personal havens from real...

Happy Holidaze Our holidays we sanitize. They don’t offend or stigmatize. In fact we made them squeaky clean, but what, by jingle, do they mean?   The Nutcracker: Waltz of the Flowers * A dewdrop sparkles on the rose __but for a moment, this she knows. Breathtaking poise transcending time—...

Heart Bleeding heart, a kindly soul Drives demand, you give your gold, Not for the cause they imbue, Guilt sequestered deep in you. Heavy, heavy, heavy heart: A joyous life's counterpart You’re undone by whispered words Hearing darkness over heard. Faint of heart you’ll always be Overwhelmed, harsh tyranny, Cautious...

  Oh Lat, dear Lat, where art thou at? Methinks thou seem a bit too flat... On Superman, and blokes like that, Your rippling mass is no doormat! With Arnold, Dwayne the Rock, and Hulk, The goal has been to build more bulk: No pain no gain—don't sit and sulk,...

  —from A Gallery of Ethopaths Schools are diploma mills that provide Credentials for people who have to hide In the small chinks of some corporation Or a bureaucracy’s minor station. Pay your tuition and get your paper And you’ll be ready for your next caper: Type up a résumé—if...

  A wondrous thing that happens as your exit becomes near, is that “long-term” consequences need not cause you fear! Bottom line: there’s no “long-term” when soon you’ll meet your savior! The construct becomes meaningless, so why restrain behavior? Melanoma matters not, go bask in the bright sun. Enjoy your favorite cigarette after the tanning’s done. Who cares...

after Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" __Once upon an evening dreary, I searched for news, at least in theory, Over many a dubious and mendacious channel that I abhor— __While I surfed, nearly barfing, suddenly there came a harping, __There was someone roughly berating, berating everything I stand for. “‘Tis some moron,”...

  Here Comes the Hybrid Bus Here comes that brand new hybrid bus Round the street so pretty; It's length so long it makes the turn, And bends right round the city. It's certainly looking very clean, All spic and span and bright; Too bad that not a single soul...

(A liberal-socialist primer for our youngest, most impressionable comrades) Note: 'take the other bus' is a slang term for homosexual behavior. Come gather round me, little ones: you bourgeois girls, suburban sons. I am your teacher, leader, czar; get on my bus and we’ll go far. America is wrong, you...

  The Age of Poetry They say that poetry’s a young man’s game, indulged while still limber, lithe, and healthy enough to dance all night with energy. Without concern for funding and fickle fame, artists, in their youth, burning with passion’s flame, can better ignore the bruises of poverty, the...

There are kingdoms to rule if your foot’s the right size _____or your beauty is flawless and rare. With a tune and a tower, you’ll capture brave hearts -- _____if you don’t mind his boots in your hair. Kiss the beast or the frog and you’ll set a prince free....

As yet untouched by any writer’s thought you’re still pristine and perfectly unspoiled. Just like a botox-frozen face that ought to pull and stretch, from life you have recoiled. Expressionless, your stare does challenge me to get the better of my writer’s block. Hypnotic blankness prohibited shall be; my creativity...