Featured Topic: Spring

In the Park on the First Clear Day of Spring

There's something of Spring that makes us self-deceive, that makes-believe the world has never sinned. A dozen squinting Adams search for Eve through a sunlight that's not yet warmed the wind. Weary of winter, the clearing is brim full of hairless legs...

A Seduction: in Four Seasons

Look my young fool, born with the Spring's first green, our morning is all spent and now the afternoon bleeds red in the west. Will you really be so mean as to ignore the pot you set upon the coals? I want you, and the water will be boiling soon. Come, Fool, with me...

Walking One Spring Morning

Walking one spring morning I weighed the cherry blossoms all brimming with new, full with such impossible hues that every petal, every blade, was like a schoolgirl at her promenade adorned for but an hour or two in reds or purples, pinks and blues before it's shorn...

Spring by Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is...

The Cherry Trees by Edward Thomas

The cherry trees bend over and are shedding On the old road where all that passed are dead, Their petals, strewing the grass as for a wedding This early May morn when there is none to wed.

Featured Product: Sinner’s Psalms Volumes 1 and 2

Alyosha’s Troubled Mind

Parallel lines extend along the graph and far as eyes can see draws mystery. All our lives we wonder if this paragraph is the final or the first of history? We see both hell and heaven occupied and know the perfect judge of all must be by justice or by mercy...

A Dante Aches for Beatrice—a Woman not his Wife

There is a soft and gentle wanting— to hold, even to touch, the painted hand. It is a shamed yet pleasant haunting— to reach, unseen to brush, the fallen strand. Her knee just shows between the boot and skirt and eyes flirt with the hemmed in edges of  a beautiful...

The Half-Hearted Conquest of a Half-Hearted Christian

We agonize like enemies, like spies, before the King's abundant table spread; we'd consume each other, but only chew instead. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. We tongue the scraps and bones but cannot feed and though we do not drink, our lips are full of...

Tomorrow Hunts: the worries of those passing their prime in idleness

The crescent moon encroaches on the day, a pale trespasser in the realm of sun. She will not wait her turn, she will not stay until the golden reign is fully done. The gleaming future will not stand in front but lurks behind you with a loaded bow; she is moon-browed...

A Song So Loud

It's no use to stoke the coals of my discontent with the damp leaves of weak desires. My prayers are not the incense in its swirling ascent; they are the sticky haze of the still-green brier's blaze, and I am smothered in the smoke. I long still to be absorbed by...

Self-Atonement: a wrist-cutter’s psalm

No motion carries here without my final vote for the meddler in my head, he sounds a lot like me; I hear no snake's hiss, no gravel in his throat. My will is not a raindrop carried mindless to the sea; and yet, it is my self I can't control and the devil of my...

An Apathy: a reflection on joyless bible reading

"Boredom: the desire for desires. " —Leo Tolstoy What is the point of sitting here? I turn the pages chore by chore puzzling as I read, "He's Near!" "He stands beside the open door," it claims, yet I am still a man without a prophet to ignore, without a tribe, without...

The Kite: a villanelle on my fear of falling into the sky

Tied to a stake, the string stretched ponderously far arcing into the blue and almost out of sight; it cast no shadow and seemed as distant as a star and slit the sky to a pointed diamond-shaped scar. The minuscule and near invisible sprite hung motionless and still...

The Hated Hymn

His enemies, subdued, still spit with rage their hated hymns, "He is just, He is just," looking at their punisher with disgust, but cannot quench His wrath with such a wage. Our calculus is prone to soon forget just how His wrath must burn against all crime— how, to...

The prayer of a wife who will not be had.

The wedding invitation I refuse; I cannot match your hunger for delight. In black robes instead of white I recuse myself; I do not have the appetite. Only a perfect one could be your muse; I wear more sensible shoes.   Why do you keep me, pampered as a house-cat...

Featured Writer: poets better and more famous than me

Youth Gone by Christina Rossetti

Youth gone, and beauty gone if ever there Dwelt beauty in so poor a face as this; Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bliss? I will not bind fresh roses in my hair, To shame a cheek at best but little fair,-- Leave youth his roses, who can bear a thorn,-- I will...

October by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day...

Spring by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Nothing is so beautiful as spring – When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree...

From the Dark Tower by Countee Cullen

We shall not always plant while others reap The golden increment of bursting fruit, Not always countenance, abject and mute, That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap; Not everlastingly while others sleep Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute, Not...

Footnote to All Prayer by C.S. Lewis

  He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou, And dream of Pheidian* fancies and embrace in heart Symbols (I Know) which cannot be the thing Thou art. Thus always, taken at their word, all prayers blaspheme Worshiping...

Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae by Ernest Dowson

Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: I have been faithful to thee,...

Villanelle Example #1: The House on the Hill by Edwin Arlington Robinson

  Most of you know that I have a certain affection/obsession with sonnets, but I have been tinkering with a new poetic form, called a villanelle, in recent days. Similar to a sonnet, villanelles have a fixed rhyme scheme and predefined structure and length. These...

Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on,...

Villanelle of the Temptress by James Joyce

Are you not weary of ardent ways, Lure of the fallen seraphim? Tell no more of enchanted days. Your eyes have set man’s heart ablaze And you have had your will of him. Are you not weary of ardent ways? Above the flame the smoke of praise Goes up from ocean rim to rim....

He Remembers Forgotten Beauty by W.B. Yeats

When my arms wrap you round I press My heart upon the loveliness That has long faded from the world; The jewelled crowns that kings have hurled In shadowy pools, when armies fled; The love-tales wrought with silken thread By dreaming ladies upon cloth That has made...

Featured Form: Rondel

You Violated Right-of-way: a rondel about how I hope you die in a fire.

You violated right-of-way when you cut in front of all of us-- a hundred drivers and a city bus-- to be the first car parked on the freeway. There were a few words I wanted to say but it's Lent and my wife growls when I cuss; you violated right-of-way when you cut in...

Where is the Boy? a Rondel for Stephaun

"Look at the picture.      Where is the boy?" "Use your finger, like this, and point right here." Some sounds come out of the scowling man, "We're wasting time. Better to let him enjoy himself, stare at the sun, fondle a toy." "When we talk, it's like he can't even...

Yes, I Was Once Afraid of Bees

Back when I was afraid of bees with a fear most grave and sober; I would flinch when they'd flyover, would shrink and beg my mother, "Please let me stay inside away from these!" Whining from May to October. Yes, I was once afraid of bees but now I see with eyes more...

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August’s End

August’s End

The thorn branches are a knot of tangled capillaries. They quarter armies of spiders standing silent and sentinel over the blackest of the blackberries-- the last and heaviest summer sweet before the coming rot. These are the scouts and outriders of the advancing...

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