Poetry

. . 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...

. Transgression, Fake and Genuine       by Joseph S. Salemi When Henry Harland and Aubrey Beardsley brought forth their groundbreaking periodical The Yellow Book in 1894, its very first issue contained the semi-facetious essay “In Defence of Cosmetics” by Max Beerbohm.  A delightful excursion into the resurgence of...

. WEF, Davos, ‘23—A Modern Reply after “Endless Pleasure, Endless Love”* Endless hooey, endless snow, We’re exposed to here below. Ever on their riches leaning, Our tormentors strew their lies; While their true intentions screening, They blow smoke into our eyes. . *from the libretto, for Handel’s oratorio Semele, by...

. On a Terrible Orchestral-chorale Concert Trapped here with vain musicians---what a fate! An echo chamber that I can't escape. Conductors lead, nude but for bandanas. On their right side, Carmina Burana With German horns, tubas, and slide trombones Blasts louder than an ocean’s worst cyclones. Countless accordions from metal...

. 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...

. A Note on Iambic Barktameter I have an Australian Shepard named Sunny who loves poetry. I didn’t believe it at first, but she proved it to me. She showed me her copy of Poetry magazine and said, “Look how dog-eared it is.” Then she told me that her favorite...

. 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,...

. SCP Members and readers are invited by poet Michael Pietrack to his Virtual Launch Party on Saturday, January 21 at 12 Noon EST.  The book---Legacy: The Saga Begins---is a complete novel-length adventure told through the medium of traditional metered and rhyming poetry. Pietrack, as well as poets James Sale,...

. 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...

. “Newquay, we have a problem” January 9, 2023 We’ve gathered in thousands to witness the blast-off, We’re sipping Champagne with our eyes full of stars. In five or ten years now, our guys will be planting, The Red, White and Blue on the surface of Mars. The seven-four-seven rolls...

. Greta's Smorgasbord of Hate I love the pretty trees, the trees love me! They make me dance and sing, they make me shout And sulk and give loud speeches: blah, blah, blah How dare you feed on cow meat and foie gras?! Let Nature live in peace and harmony---...

. 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,...

. The Christmas Story An angel of the Lord, Came forth with joyful news, Of Him Who is adored, Messiah of the Jews. The angel hailed the one, A Virgin pure and bright, Who chosen for the Son, Would crush the serpent’s bite. “Oh Favored one behold, Thou shalt conceive...

. The Wind Listen, listen! Do you hear it?  It is on the march tonight--- The incessant winter wind that blows throughout the wood and glade. Like a spectral army passing through the night in grim parade--- Do you hear its restless movement where no moonbeam sheds it light? Do...

. Worth Disguised The hammer lifts, the anvil rings, The room with screaming noises brings __A torture, here inflicted. The bellows pump, the fire smokes, A prodding chisel pries and pokes. __This trial seems unscripted. The flames blaze hot, the subject melts, No pain like this has e’er been felt...

. Cookies I bought a bag of cookies for a snack, But they were way too sweet… I took them back. I tried each one to make sure this was true. I really didn’t know what else to do. The woman in the store was not too kind. She told...

. Civilisations Forget the Taste of Their Own Tails To see a friend possessed By the time’s ideological incantations, To see a world soon blessed By mob rule and its dark infatuations; To glimpse a friend’s black eyes Gouge out the moment’s question—friend or foe? To glimpse a world of...

. Bingo Ladies Gray-haired gals meet twice a week, Have their luncheon with the clique At the Wendy’s in Coppell. After they have talked a spell Off to northwest part of Dallas To the Giant Bingo Palace. First they greet the Palace guards Then select their lucky cards. Thirteen at...

. Out, out, brief candle! ---Macbeth I am black-dog blue and blinded by the glitzy gaze of stars. Lucent moons will never light __my skyless eye. I am frequently reminded of my fear __of future scars--- when he stills my howling heart __my angst will die... I have wondered at...

. This Side of Eternity I. Imagination, you’re a two-edged sword, The universe your oyster, opened wide; Conceiving all the boon life might afford In dazzling display: what may be tried, Perpetual possibilities, outpoured Before the casual confidence of pride. Infinity thus beckons, but we err Who hope to taste...

. For Sophie Pakaluk Barrows based on The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God by Michael Pakaluk in pie quebrado meter Before God made her soul and mind, Before her parents’ genes entwined __To start life’s spark, To them each priest and doctor bade That no more children should...

. On the Banning of the Word 'Field' by the University of Southern California’s School of Social Work See the related news story here. In Southern California they’ve declared that field’s a word to studiously ignore. It seems that at all costs folk should be spared plantation connotation. Has your...

. For the French Revolution Oh, this shall tell the tale of France’s past: the revolution brought in ‘eighty nine, when Frenchmen took a stand and rose, amassed, against the king from ocean to the Rhine. Before its start existed three estates: the first, the clergy; next, nobility; and third,...

. Be Gone an angry teenage daughter to her absconded mother What irritant incited you to leave And not come back while I was left to grieve? Was it the man you wed, the girl you bore, Your dispositions? Tell me: Why? What for? I learned to live without you...

. The Fluctuations of Modernity and Antiquity a pantoum __Something is ahead, A solemn note on open sky, __It rises from the dead, A whizzing plane of time gone by. A solemn note on open sky, Reminds me of the shopping mall, A whizzing plain of time gone by, A...

. Putting Settings in Their Place For dilettantes the world’s bereft When table settings aren’t precise. For if the forks aren’t on the left They’ll give their host some stern advice: “The fork goes here, for love of life, “The salad fork goes right next to it. “And on the...

. Letter from a DC Prison We’d seen the evidence, the ballots dropped In loads of boxes trundled in late-night With ballot counting claimed to have been stopped; The windows blocked to hide observers’ sight, Suitcases dragged from under tables; more— The laptop filled with the Bidens’ dirty dealing Dismissed...

. Antietam It was the bloodbath battle of the Civil War; Scores of men died, by musket, the gore; Was this brave dead soldier from north or from south, Left on the field, blood gushed from his mouth; He had a young sweetheart, love oozed from her breast, But he...

. Queen of Jubilees A Queen there was, revered, of global fame--- Elizabeth the Second was her name. For three-score-years-and-ten she ruled the roost and gave us Brits a self-assuring boost through walkabouts and bric-a-brac that bore her likeness. She was loved by rich and poor who visited each town...

. Elegy for an Unremarkable Man Poor Niel is dead. He’d been off sick since May. Cancer, they said, as if we couldn’t guess, And, since we didn’t know what words to say, We stayed away. If pressed, we might confess We’d turned our jellied backs to his distress, Acting...

. Thorns Grow with Song It’s time to rend our hearts and look inside The chambered will, into the voices in The vein: thorns grow with song. A hope applied With mercy calls the tuner of the tidal Pull of the soul, brings rest, denying sin It’s time. To rend...

. I Met a Shepherdess  by Guido Cavalcanti (c. 1250-1300) translated by Joseph S. Salemi I met a shepherdess in a small copse. More beautiful than starlight, the girl seemed. Her hair was blonde-ish, with a swirl of curls. Eyes full of love, and face-blush like a rose, She guided...

. Mourning Louis XVI We must not say in public that we mourn--- Sit still, Brigitte, and listen to your père! If we disclose our grief we court the hate Of France’s revolutionary swarm. These days are bleak for those of us well-born. Hell take that bloody butcher Robespierre, Whose...

. The Departing Year This night shall stand and stare with wintry rage Through half-closed windows stained in loss and gain; To measure all astounding feats and fame Against those bitter tears in blinding rain. The memories shall never wane with sight, Nor lend to coming days a newer tone;...