Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Sentence of the Scabbed By Adam Levon Brown

Sentence of the Scabbed


Torn from the pages

Of life by the sweeping

Changing of the seasons


Dismal articulation

Comes in waves

Which can only

Be described

As pain


The soliloquy sun

Saunters splendidly

In the afternoon


While I pick

At the wounds


Which my mind creates



BIO: Adam Levon Brown is an internationally published author, poet, amateur photographer. He is Founder, Owner, and editor in chief of Madness Muse Press. He has had poetry published hundreds of times in several languages, along with 2 full collections and 3 chapbooks. He also participates as an assistant editor at Caravel

Literary Arts Journal


Tuesday, May 1, 2018

His Stillness by Michael Gonzalez


  He was amazing to behold 

in his stillness!

;

Original photography and quote by:Michael Gonzalez copyright 2018

Monday, April 30, 2018

A Glimpse Of Your Soul by Lynn Long

I thought I saw your soul
gazing into mine
And, for just the 
briefest moment
I was somewhere
else in time
A place I'd forgotten
where memories 
still remain
A place of long ago
where once,
I spoke your name
Soaring high,
above the sky
My heart skips a beat
In the feelings
I so denied, now
suddenly, let
free

I thought I saw your soul
gazing into mine
It was just a glimpse,
a memory lost in time

Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

Skyward by Joan McNerney


Skyward

Another hot day at

the playground filled

with shrieks from kids

tumbling down slides.

 

Shouting boys hop on and

off the whirling carousel

as girls sing songs to

double dutch jump rope.

 

Waiting for my chance

on the swing.  Finally

one is free as I clutch

the metallic link chains.

 

I pump myself up

pushing pass trees,

feeling cool breezes

brush over me.

 

All the noise is far below

as I rush towards

blue skies.  My feet are

walking on clouds now.


Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Moon Over Sad Cuba by Grant Guy

Moon over sad Cuba
What have your blue moon eyes seen
Upon this land of revolution 
Where nothing has changed for over fifty years

 

What have your blue moon eyes seem
Over hot Cuba
Hot sex along the Malecon 
The mist off the Strait of Florida
Tasting the kisses of love

 

What have your blue moon eyes seen
Over sultry Cuba
Where dancing leads to love leads to sex
Leads to life
Where soft breezes touch the soft breasts of love

 

What have your blue moon eyes seen
Over sunny Cuba
Yes hot love hot sex
And
And cold- blooded murder
Arm and arm in the sweaty breath of death 
And the living love

 

What have your blue moon eyes seen


Grant Guy is a Canadian poet, writer and playwright. He has over one hundred poems and short stories published in internationally. He has Five books published: Open Fragments, On the Bright Side of Down, Blues For a Mustang, The Life and Lies of Calamity Jane and Bus Stop Bus Stop His plays include an adaptation of Paradise Lost and the Grand Inquisitor. He was the 2004 recipient of the MAC’s 2004 Award of Distinction and the 2017 recipient of the WAC Making A Difference Award.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Askew by Neil Ellman



Askew

 

(after the painting by Kenneth Noland)

 

                                                     

In the perfect

roundness of our space

degree by degree

in equal measure

inequities abound     

imperfections so slight

no device can  

calculate and rectify.  

 

The earth’s orbit

almost circular

the planets’

elliptical

and in life

no reincarnation

from birth to death

and birth again

no karmic echoes

of our sins.



Neil Ellman is a poet from New Jersey.  He has published numerous poems, more than 1,000 of which are ekphrastic and written in response to works of modern art, in print and online journals, anthologies and chapbooks throughout the world.  He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and twice for Best of the Net.

Editors Note: This is an ekphrastic poem and based on a work of modern art. The title of this poem is that of the original image 

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

What use is poetry by Gauri Dixit

What use is poetry?


Last few dusks
Have stolen the beauty
On this stale evening
The colors are a pale shadow of themselves
The music
Has forgotten its own voice
The instruments whimper
Melancholy clouds hope
The air is heavy
Sitting on my chest
Breathing is an effort
The oxygen is making me work
With it
And without it
They have all given up
Finding a sanctuary within their various addictions
Abusing everyone and everything including their souls
The onlookers only call a foul
I am still here
Sitting on my rocking chair
Reading aloud poems
Waiting
For the new dusk to bring back the colours

©. Gauri Dixit


A software professional from Pune (India), Gauri started writing poems couple of years ago. She writes in number f Facebook poetry groups. Her poems have been featured in multiple Indian and international anthologies. She has also contributed to a number of e-zines including Learning & Creativity, Glomag and Mind Creative (published from Sydney, Australia). She loves to read, write and travel

Sunday, April 15, 2018

A MAP, A HISTORIOGRAPHY By Michael H. Brownstein

A MAP, A HISTORIOGRAPHY

 
The map of who we might be 
binds itself to the paradox of the dead
duck and lamb decompressed near the back fence.
How did they come to be this way?
 
A swamp of flesh,
a tide pool of artery and heartbeat,
rind of cacti, rind of lemon,
rind of orange
the green taste of river gourd
thick with mucus and algae
inner workings of bile 
the meat of the core
all of the wisdom
from the merchant of the moon
 
This is the map of foreplay
the cartography of what comes after.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

spring breeze by Theresa A. Cancro

spring breeze...
walking the curve
of the labyrinth


Bio: Theresa A. Cancro writes poetry, short fiction and nonfiction. Dozens of her poems and short fiction pieces have been published online and in print internationally. She strives to find sparks of wonder in the ordinary.

Friday, April 13, 2018

Michael Ceraolo 500 Cleveland Haiku Book Review


For details and ordering instructions

CLICK HERE


It is such a pleasure to read work by a writer who understands and has a firm grasp on traditional poetic styles.  Basho, Bison and Kyoshi would be proud.

This book delves into the everyday and ordinary life on the streets and suburban areas of Cleveland written with a classic yet modern view of the sights and sounds within the city. It is a testament to the poetic artistry Michael Ceraolo is able to express within this particular genre.

A few examples:


Winter scene ---

my exhaled breath

freezes on my eyelashes


April ---

bird shopping for food

on my lawn


Signs proclaiming 

that land is available---

they'll kill the trees for you


Economics depression ---

even the dollar store

goes out of business


An uptempo tune ---

the trees dance erratically

to the storm"s music


The haiku in this book tell stories with insight into city life and reflect wit, inspiration and compassion.  Each haiku delivering a message and/or statement.

Reading 500 Cleveland Haiku takes you on a journey through city life as seen through the eyes of the writer.

Reading this book was refreshing and a lesson into the intricasies of writing haiku.  Haiku is a style that only a few have mastered well and Michael Ceraolo proves through this anthology he is the master.


By: Joanne Oivieri





Sunday, April 8, 2018

Night Ninja by Mary Bone

Night Ninja


I was a night time ninja

In my dreams.

I woke up in a sweat,

With nightmarish screams.

Ninja warriors came at me

From every direction-

Punching and kicking

My midsection.

I hit the ninjas with

A karate chop.

Now all they do

Is flip and flop.


My poems have appeared in Oklahoma Today Magazine, Literary Yard, Poetry Pacific, Whispers in the Wind Blogspot,  Spillwords, Duane’s Poetree Blogspot and numerous other journals and newspapers. Mary has been wring since the age of twelve and has had two books of poetry published.

Saturday, April 7, 2018

On Dying In A Mass Shooting  by Joanne Olivieri

On Dying In A Mass Shooting 


Bloody Chaos


The door swings open

rapid fire storm ensues

my body hurls to the ground

chaotic screams

deadly thunder pops

permeate bitter air pockets

and I lie still.


My friends, classmates

scattered around me

breathing dust, residue

a warm sea of blood

mingles with others

saturating wooden floors

and I lie still.


I am slipping away

soaked in death

blood tears escape my eyes

and I cannot see

fear embodies my being

I cannot move

and I lie still.


Mom and Dad, I love you

my friends by my side, I love you

don't let me die in vain

resist the hate, the fear

do it for me, do it for us

the chaos stops

and I lie still.


All I ask is why, 

please tell me why

why, why?

And I lie still

forever.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Hearts That Die Young by Stefanie Bennett

Stefanie Bennett, ex-blues singer and musician has published several books of
poetry, a novel and a libretto and worked with Arts Action For Peace. Poems
have appeared in Shot Glass Journal, Poetry Pacific, Poetic Diversity, The Fib
Review and others. Stefanie’s most recent titles – ‘Black Spring’ – Ginninderra
Press; ‘The Vanishing’ – Walleah Press and ‘Blanks From The Other World’
[due May-June] are available from Amazon. Of mixed ancestry [Italian/Irish/
Paugussett-Shawnee] she was born in Queensland, Australia.
 
 
 HEARTS THAT DIE YOUNG for Vittoria Anna-Maria    [Stefanie Bennett]
 
 
I clutched the vision
Of the magnolia,
Fine as pollen...
The coloured halo
Of your hair.
 
Some hearts die young
Without wilt or piety.
These are the ones
Mater dulcissima
I offer you now.
 
And this you’d known all along.
You took me walking
As a child, and through
Child eyes you pointed
To the Imera’s silken flowing...
 
Ever young – “forever there”
You said – and as I fingered
Blood oranges
By the seller’s cart
And asked the whereabouts
 
Of day-stars and hermetic charts
Your smile fell upon
The Madonie peaks. There was
No failed mystery in your language.
 
And now I clutch at visions; I’ve work
To do. Sometimes with
Arrows that pierce
Heart and paper. Sometimes with
Rivers seeping, changing course.
 
But memory, you remind me,
Is landscape enough.
Scars – mended lines of living.
I raise mid-aged eyes
And the street of clouds
 
Rest on a field of white magnolias
“Ever there.” Your final
Word – Mater dulcissima.
It must be so!
Fine as pollen, as haloed hair.



Saturday, March 31, 2018

A Vibrant Newness by Daginne Aignend and Jack Waller

A Vibrant Newness

 

The last vestige of winter lingers,

as we await impatiently

for spring to break forth

Releasing in its majesty new life,

as we recall from the deep recesses

Memories of a vibrant newness

brought in the rolling back of a stone.

 

Still ice crystals on my window

when Aurora shows her smiling face

The pale sun gingerly reveals herself,

shy little beams of her precious light

Inhaling the subtle fragrance of early

confident red and yellow tulips.

bravely defying Winter's last breath

 

The moon reflects in subtle hues,
a blanket of calm,
where turbulence is stilled.
An undeserved gift-
Respite from the maelstrom

of daily life, which we will

not allow being extinguished.

 

Warming my hands on my cup

of hot tea, I wonder how

the tulips sleep, set at rest

by the shimmering moonlight

Dreaming about another day

where they can spread their petals

flirting with the blushing Spring sun


Jack Waller is a 79 years old resident of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. He has a Diploma in Theology from The Atlantic School of Theology. He's a widower with 5 children and 5 grandchildren, he remarried to a husband. Jack has a deep faith and spirituality.
 
Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch writer, poetess, photographic artist Inge Wesdijk. She likes hard rock music, fantasy books, is a vegetarian who loves her animals.

She's the Poetry Editor ofWhispers and has been published in many poetry journals, magazines and anthologies. She has a fun project website http://www.daginne.com

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

The Moon and the Star by Lynn Long


The Moon and the Star

He sleeps with the moon
Exists in another world
He is but a dream
She is the starlight
Shining bright
All he ever needs

Sunday, March 25, 2018

new moon by Theresa A. Cancro


Wilbur the barn owl photo by Joanne Olivieri


new moon

new moon –
the silent swoop
of a barn owl


Bio: Theresa A. Cancro writes poetry, short fiction and nonfiction. Dozens of her poems and short fiction pieces have been published internationally online and in print. She strives to find sparks of wonder in the ordinary

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Haiku by Lynn Long

Haiku

Against the moonlight

She flutters her wings breathless

Kissing the night air

Monday, March 19, 2018

Shakespearean Baseball Sonnet #7 by Michael Ceraolo



Shakespearean Baseball Sonnet #7

Lo, in the Orient was the graceful light:
No words left for him to conquer at home,
He would become an Occidental sight.
Playing the game with sacred majesty,
He would scale the top of the outfield wall
And sit there to take a homer away.
And he would dare the baserunners to run
On the arm from the Land of the Midnight Sun.
And facing the fastest pitches with care
He could deftly place the ball anywhere.
On base he'd disrupt a pitcher's rhythm
And then steal bases any time on him.
And though late through the American portal,
The beauty of his game is immortal.

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few chapbooks published (among the chapbooks is Cleveland Haiku, from Green Panda Press). He has a second full-length book, Euclid Creek Book Two, forthcoming from unbound content press, and is continually working on new and existing poetry projects

Friday, March 16, 2018

Home Grown by Stefanie Bennett

HOME GROWN     

The Dust Devil family
Spins

Like a top,
Kicks
Like a mule,
And won’t
Ever forsake
The past
For last...


BiO: Stefanie Bennett, ex-blues singer and musician has published several books of poetry,a novel and a libretto, and works with Arts Action For Peace. Poems have appeared inShot Glass Journal, Poetry Pacific, The Fib Review, Poetic Diversity and others.Stefanie’s most recent titles ‘Black Spring’ – Ginninderra Press; ‘The Vanishing’ WalleahPress and ‘Blanks From The Other World’ [due May – June] are available from Amazon.Of mixed ancestry [Italian/Irish/Paugussett-Shawnee] Stefanie was born in Queensland.Australia.



Thursday, March 8, 2018

December Morn by John Grey

DECEMBER MORN
Ice halos every bare bedraggled tree.
Garden withers out of sight.
The box-hedge browns but holds its shape.
Along the fence sprout tiny pines,
all ghosts of Christmas past,
green candles flamed by sun.
Morning rays glisten off snow mounds,
melt the flakes on bedroom windows.
Out of warm flannel sheets,
a family emerges,
a yawning but instructive lesson
in how bodies come to be.
The father wobbles and looms
above all others like a bewhiskered moose.
The mother follows in his shadow,
a trail of trembling bones, chilly breath,
on course for the thermostat.
Children trampoline bounce
to cold, unfriendly floor,
dare the weather to slow their progress.
The life in fields, in woods, is sporadic,
maybe a hare, its coat winter white,
or a squirrel burrowing aimlessly
for its forgotten cache.
But the people lead,
fill the spaces of the house
with cheery voices, clattering kitchen sounds,
the hiss of water boiling,
the rattle and reward of cranked-up radiators.
The scramble for survival is on outside.
Inside, the comfort can barely contain itself.
A woman kisses, a child hugs...
I have this moment on good authority

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Eighty Days by Michael Ceraolo


               July 14, 1881

Garfield:

I once considered correspondence
to be the great drudgery of my life,
but now my goal is to recover enough
to resume that 'great drudgery'


Guiteau:

"When all these matters,
my life,
             my address
                                etc.
get before the public and they know just why
I assassinated the president
there will be a big reaction in my favor
I don't know how long I will have to remain here
It depends on how soon the president dies."

Monday, March 5, 2018

A Taint of Pity by Ken Allen Dronsfield Review


A Taint of Pity is a journey through poetic excellence. Ken Allen Dronsfield is constantly surprising me with his complex works of art. Yes, it is sheer art that when reading it becomes a canvas of words mingling in a masterpiece of truth, wisdom and beauty, This poet exemplifies the craft of poetry with his effortless strokes of ebb and flow. He writes a contemporary message with traditional expertise which is very rare in this day and age. Very few poets have been able to write with these extraordinary qualities. His imagery and story telling is exciting and has you anxiously awaiting the next stanza. His imagery as in the poem Lunatique brings forth the limitless bounds to which he can create these unique poems. Sylvia Plath comes to mind when reading many of his works. Works like Infernal ooze a heartfelt and powerful message with ease and grace. I am a huge fan of Ken's work and when I think about that old saying "You can't improve upon perfection" that saying is wrong. You can and Ken Allen Dronsfield does in all of his poetry. This is a fantastic read by one of my top favorite contemporary poets. Also, the real and heartfelt dedication is emotional and tells a story of his life. Thank you, Ken for always inspiring me. Sammy thanks you too.

For more info, reviews and ordering instructions click here.

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

TIDE by Jagari Mukherjee

TIDE
My passion glows
With crimson tints
Mixed with blue desire –
The blue of the night sky
With a moon shining
Like a firefly.
The tide of the sea
Over my body washes
Leaving crusts of sharp salt crystals
In the roses
To set me free
As the scarlet and gold
Of the setting sun
Shimmers like a satin dress
Over splintered me…

And what about you?
Trying to put the splinters together
You cover yourself
With the moon and the sea.
Brief Bio
Jagari Mukherjee is a bilingual poet from Kolkata, India. She is a gold medalist in English Literature from University of Pune. Her writings have appeared in several newspapers, magazines, anthologies, and blogs. Her first book, a collection of poems entitled Blue Rose, was published in May 2017 by Bhashalipi.

Monday, February 26, 2018

Shakespearean Baseball Sonnet #98 by Michael Ceraolo




Shakespearean Baseball Sonnet #98

From you I have been absent in the spring,
Til Opening Day, dressed in all its trim,
Hath put the spirit of youth in everything.
But my love for you is hardly a whim:
I have missed the ballpark's array of smells
And both teams' uniforms' array of hues;
I have missed the stories that my love tells,
A dazzling selection from which to choose;
I have missed the wonder of the ball's white.
I have missed the wonder of the field's green.
I wonder if the new will be a fright.
I wonder of those who will make the scene.
It seems winter still with the game away,
Until the team comes home ready to play.

Bio:  "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few chapbooks published (among the chapbooks is Cleveland Haiku, from Green Panda Press). He has a second full-length book, Euclid Creek Book Two, forthcoming from unbound content press, and is continually working on new and existing poetry projects."

Sunday, February 25, 2018

If Not For You By Grant Guy

If Not For You

If not for you I would be a happy man
If not for you I would be a sad man
That is the arc of love I walk along
It is not your fault It is not my fault
The fault lies in the stars and in the composition of love

When caught up in the eddy of love
I lose my oars and rudders 
And flow along the crimson river to its source
And back again over rapids and angelic pools
I am not captains of my charts
I am the wind blowing against rock and silk

If not for love I would not be human
If not for you I would not exist



BIO: Grant Guy is a Winnipeg, Canada, poet, writer and playwright. His poems and short stories have been published in Canada and Internationally. He has three books published: Open Fragments (Lives of Dogs), On the Bright Side of Down and Bus Stop Bus Stop (Red Dashboard). His plays include an adaptation of Paradise Lost and the Grand Inquisitor. He was the 2004 recipient of the Manitoba Arts Council’s 2004 Award of Distinction and the 2017 recipient of the Winnipeg Arts Council’s Making A Difference Award.

Saturday, February 24, 2018

A Mother’s Love by Stephens Jeremiah

A Mother’s Love

Of men I cannot tell
But of my mother I know very well
A love so pure and true
An affection so caring and graceful too
My mother is the best so far
A heart of Love but painted with gold
Such lips of flesh but coated with care
Beauty beyond measure
 Of such I treasure
My mum is the best so far
Her smile gladdens my eyes
Her laughter are melodies to my ears
Her touch warms my sense of cold
In her bosom lies good doctrines
And her hands carry wisdom
She chastises and corrects
But her love is the best of all…

BIO: My name is Stephens Jeremiah, I am a Nigerian, I am a student who appreciates the work