Art is dead. It is stinking and rotten, putrefying in museums where beauty goes to be autopsied by critics who’ve forgotten their flesh, blood, and soul. The galleries echo with the whispers of those who mistake decay for depth, who celebrate the maggots while forgetting the man. But we’re lucky. We serve a God who raises the dead. And He just respawned us in the middle of the trenches of the early 21st century, armed with pens, brushes, and cameras, ready to storm the towers of darkness with songs of praise.
In a world drunk on grey mediocrity, where beauty is buried under concrete and steel, Poets At War Press stands as a rallying point for warriors who fight with metaphor and melody. We are not content to merely describe the world – we’re here to sing it into a Godlier shape, beginning in our own homes and radiating outward like ripples in a still pond.
First, we are bards to our families, teaching our children to see dragons in the clouds and God’s fingerprints in the frost. We sing the old songs of pilgrimage around our hearths, knowing that before we can change the world, we must enchant our own households with the wild and wonderful story of redemption.
Second, we stand as torch-bearers for our neighbors, fellow pilgrims stumbling through the dark. Our works light the way forward, reminding those who fight for Truth, Goodness, and Beauty that they’re not alone in this holy madness. We’re here to arm them with stories sharp as swords and songs bright as shields.
Third, we forge brotherhood among the bards themselves. For too long, artists have wandered alone, wrestling with visions too big for solitary shoulders. We build physical and digital feasting halls where creative warriors can find fellowship, where the burden of seeing too much can be shared, where madness turns to mission.
Fourth, we send our works into the world like arrows tipped with fire. Our books, films, and podcasts are built to last, crafted to pierce hearts across generations. We aim to arm Christian soldiers, mothers, and working men with beauty that fortifies their fight against the gates of hell.
Finally, and perhaps most defiantly, we’re here to remind a world in love with death that it isn’t dead yet. We are the children of Chesterton’s defiant joy, Lewis’s rational wonder, and Tolkien’s mythic truth. We believe that every gift God has scattered across this earth – from the taste of bread to the sound of children’s laughter – is worth fighting for.
We believe that in times of darkness, the world needs not just teachers, but troubadours; not just prophets, but poets; not just soldiers, but storytellers. Whether you craft worlds with words, capture light with lenses, or weave wonder with sound, there’s a place for you in this war.
Join us in this holy rebellion. Because when the world has gone mad, the artists must become warriors, and the warriors must become bards.
Poets At War Press: Be your family’s Bard. Do not turn to the right or to the left, and The Lord will be with you wherever you go.