You do not need to raise your voice to be heard. Raise your words. Raise your art. Your voice is yours. You won’t be for everyone. You...

Nine knocks on the door and now scattered round the room, seven seated, one kneeling and one stretched out. Civil. Polite. Self-conscious...

The radar pitch of the ice cream truck always rings disappointed—mawk eighth-note counterpoint rising, rising electric and sugar-songed,...

Your wide leaves were your ruff Your plate-sized, milky blooms your crowning glory Your branches tall and far-reaching Years of work and...

She is no one’s favorite bird. Her call is awful; I used to think it was the crow’s. Now I know, but, Oh! When I hear that grating...

New Poetry by Sarah Tisdale

I don’t consider myself a poet. Occasionally a songwriter, but barely that. The occasion of this poem was the commissioning of a new church.

In "The Passing Away World," I use images of light to point to the transient and the finite in the human experience; light that is man...

Chicasaw . . . Cherokee . . . Choctaw . . . Muskogee . . . Seminole . . . names echoing through history, remnants of once proud,...

As the earth falls into a deep slumber, we sit in anticipation and stillness.

Early, risen numbly, they surface from the fog in pearl bas-relief, quick to lock unswerving eyes with the harried (spent, work-bound...

Three small birds, Brown and ordinary, Frequent our porch this October. Fat and round, They drink water from the dog's bowl, And the...

This coming Sunday marks the beginning of Advent, the yearly remembrance and celebration of the coming of Jesus, the Son of God. It's...

In the early days of our family, your grandmother had long brown hair and bangs and wore light-washed jeans, blousy shirts tucked in at...

“A man called Jesus made clay, anointed my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash,’ so I went and washed in the pool of Siloam,...

She spent the days at home with her small children. Some days were simply delightful. She played with them, read to them, and cuddled...

Origin For Katrine Present, as air and as possible to conjure, to craft. Though the heart believes itself still, maybe dead,

2019 In algebra class, I have Just explained the quadratic formula, shown examples, Given both details and the big picture

My name was found, in a single book, placed outside my door. It shared my own captive story, In bleeding letters, cut and torn.

I wonder if he believes in God, could believe in God after all the senseless misery he’s seen. It makes me wonder if I believe in God,

You do not have to be productive. The world does not depend upon Zoom meetings, deadline meeting,

Author's note: I’m so excited to bring you my conversation with my friend Phillip Joubert. Phillip is a rapper out of New York and...

Called broad of chest, yet broader still of mind, The gadfly’s pupil in Athena’s town, He, seeking truth beyond what shadows bind, Shows...

As I watched my dad walk into the gas station, I rolled the window down to enjoy the sunlight. I was basking in the rays of the summer...

I am not a gardener,” I remind my husband As we scroll through endless photos In search of our first house; After eleven years of...

Charity, great love, is the love of my mother. Agape. Selfless. ἀγάπη Worlds forever change. Situations are as tides. My mother is...

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”...

“Le Calvarie, Bretagne” by batigolix is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 Loving a broken person has caused me pain. I lament for what could...

My wife and I communicate quite differently. Last night she spoke to a group of girls. She distributed paper hearts and instructed them...

We make no secret of our love for good poetry here, and so we’re always delighted when those in our writing community release collections...

Image by skeeze from Pixabay I walked out of school. It was raining. I was walking with one of the girls from my class. I knew my mother...

I recently saw an ad for another Hollywood remake of one of my childhood favorites, Little Women. I read the book when I was twelve years...

Sometimes the worst thing about being a self-employed artist is feeling like you have to convince people to check out your work.

Photo by Ryan Parker on Unsplash I felt them in my wife’s tummy before they even entered the world. I knew them when they needed us for...

When I was young, my mother wrote poetry. As far as I am aware, she rarely wrote just for fun, but mostly as gifts for parents of new...

Orchid – Josie Koznarek All the time I knew you carried weight upon your back in every tremor when you spoke, in each “I could never…”...

Sunset, Izmir, Turkey 2019. Photo by John Palmer Gregg It doesn’t seem odd that you’re gone from the world; Rather, it seems impossible...

Photo by Robin Spielmann on Unsplash As a believer in Christ, I struggle often with what feels like the split personality of faith, what...

For quite some time now, we at Foundling House have been interested not only in putting worthwhile words together with discerning...

He Will Make the Bloodroot He will make the bloodroot Blossom underfoot, Flowers white, unfolding Wherever you have looked For...

I teach high schoolers On the verge of graduation So-called “seniors” Who were children just the other day. Intoxicated with the...

This is a collection of laments I wrote for a worship service I led with a friend in my church. Modern worship is a bit too positive...

“_DSC5537” by sayo-tsu is licensed under CC CC0 1.0 (On the Anniversary of My Mother’s Death) When I turned seven my mother began...

When an old woman says it, the plot of black earth where love has unfurled like the fiery feathers of the celosia, busting wet like the...

I say by way of explanation To my colleague in the Math Department, A justification for the Discrepancy in the math: Five pregnancies...

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to weep, a time to laugh; a time to mourn, a time to...

My daughter’s dance class: A brave octet of blue-clad torsos, all Delicate and strung tight with snare drum ribs. They gallop like crabs...

The cat in the cradle stole my tongue, and I’ve been silent ever since. “Don’t let go of those tears,” he said, with a grin."

Miss Eloise’s signature was scrawled upon the check beneath Her dead husband’s printed name: Seventy-five dollars, given For someone...

Sometimes, God turns off the light so that you will learn your way back in other ways than the faulty maps and bad directions that...