A Journal of High Culture
Latest from the New Lyre
Resurrecting Passion by Michael R. Burch
Last night, while dawn was far awayand rain streaked gray, tumescent skies,as thunder boomed and lightning railed,I conjured words, where passion failed … But, oh, that you were mine tonight,sprawled in this bed, held in these arms,your breasts pale baubles in my hands,our bodies bent to old demands … Such passions we might resurrect,if onlyContinue Reading
The Vale of Soul-Making by Daniel Leach
Down from some dim, distant star it glimmers, Through the leafy shadows of this vale,But unnoticed in their eyes it shimmers As they make love in the moonlight pale; Never heeding, not yet knowing, A new soul already growing, That will soon its first bright, sunny morning hail. What will be its little journey’s meaning? What partContinue Reading
Shijing Ode #4: Jiu Mu
In the South, beneath trees with drooping branchesthick with vines that make them shady,we find our lovely princely lady:May she repose in happiness! In the South, beneath trees with drooping brancheswhose clinging vines make hot days shady,we wish love’s embrace for our lovely lady:May she repose in happiness! In the South, beneath trees with droopingContinue Reading
The God and the Dancing Girl by Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Mahadiwa, lord of the world,Traveled through the seasoned earth,Returning for the sixth timeTo see what fate he might unearth.He longed to visit humankindTo know our pain and our joy:For, to judge us he must know us,Live among our mortal kind.He wanders through the city in a stranger’s disguise,Observes the wealthy and pities the poor,Then onceContinue Reading
Dawn Herald by Adam Sedia
Night broods heavy, dark, and still— Its darkest, stillest hour,When the dank, dead vapors chillAnd the cold stars glow dour. I roam the dark alone—it seemsThe only being alive—Debarred from the realm of dreamsAnd all the peace they give. Hear! A solo voice dares breakFrom nowhere into song—A bird’s chirp. Though soft and meek,Through silenceContinue Reading
Les Sylphides by John Martin
from a Photograph Flesh longed, at last, to be so impregnatedand so inseminated, like a flower ispollinated by the breeze … (Or bees). So, too, the heart called out for deeper comfortand then man’s soul called out for something moreafter the body had been violatedand then the mind left easy on that score. We areContinue Reading
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