Caw | Nate Maye
Black birds
outside my
window call
to me to
wake up
before it is
too late,
their cries
overshadow
the smaller
light warbles
of the red
and blue birds.
original poetry
Notations | JD DeHart
They assemble, they note
they sway in unison.
Ask them the ten question
quiz, they will smirk.
This they do not note.
They have no reason, no remark,
no railing force to see
what words these demarcations
attempt to explore.
But hand them the right narrative,
let them speak the story
from depth of soul
from relevant longing,
and they will make such notes
as you have not seen.
More at http://jddehart.blogspot.com.
The Unthinkable Mountain | Michael Kagan
I know if left alone
I would fall from the sky
Of a different world,
I fell long ago from my
Birth sky of blue serenity
And migrated to a place
Of mystery
Where shoes fall like raindrops and laces grow
Into barbed vines
Giving each seeker on the
Other side shallow breathing
Hanging on while bleeding
Peering over surrounding
Hills of weather beaten shoes
Piled spectacles of eyes
long melted
Tons of warm clothing
Hand stitched
Before the world went cold
Mountains of luggage rotting
Traveled the final journey
Masses of bone
Still gripping the handles,
Somewhere in disbelief
Cut down uncles and aunts
And cousins
Run their fingers through
Time’s shining curly locks
Silken cheeked
Seedlings doomed
To remember
Must carry
The stench and brown edges
Of a blue iridescent sky
Spring Cleaning | Blanca Alicia Garza
Shake off the cobwebs
The dust and fuzz
from your past
Stir up the soil
Plant new seeds
Clean the windows
of your muddy soul
Trim dead, dry stems
into colorful roses
Your frown into a smile
Restart the internal clock
Reborn from within
Not much time to lose
Winter is gone
Spring has arrived.
Real Rock Bottom | JD DeHart
With his brown
bottle blues and endless
Trekkie VCR tapes,
the cling of smoke
and bad memories, you
would think it would have
gotten him up,
but his legs were still
sore and his paintbrush
still dry and docile.
Coffee and My Mother-in-Law – A Poem by P.K. Deb
My mother-in-law,
frequently invited and ever-welcomed
yet likes to trespass my family every now and then,
draws ugly wrinkles on
the plain canvas of my fate,
nevertheless, I pay a welcome smile to her.
My busy commercial schedule-
ever- active to make me rich
but too poor to awake
my consciousness regarding my family schedule,
tongue-less to babbling tongues as a consequence
and washed up thoroughly without any detergent.
Alas! Coal never leaves its colour,
trend-wise ill-fated I was again
to be unmindful to the cordial invitation,
a personal request of my awesome mother-in- law
and a sufferer from an oral storm very soon.
”Oh God, save me please”!
an importunity came out of my timid heart.
As expected she appeared in the next morning,
swept me top to bottom with her verbal broom
in a collaboration with my wife too.
Chilled morning that was,
her voice was quivering in cold
added by her own aggressive emotion.
My all attempts to cool her surrendered
and lead me to kitchen to hide,
I was fortunate to be blessed by God
as my eyes fell on the packet of chocolate coffee,
a smile was bloomed on my lips
and a cup of hot chocolate coffee was prompt
to reach below the nose of mother-in-law
with its enchanting magical flavour,
started extinguishing her fire of emotion
with her each and every sip step by step
and I thanked God and coffee both for a hot rescue.
A Journey – A Poem by P.K. Deb
A journey
down to the earth–
the most common and compulsory
for a life to enjoy or suffer,
yet, only one wheeler is provisioned to travel
in quest of more and more wheels to add
on the signal of the rise and set of the sun
with many beckoning hands and eyes.
In the vast course of journey,
plains, hills and mountains are trampled,
rivers, seas and oceans are steered,
elephants and whales are made upside down,
ants and insects experience a combing-search,
the Hell and the Heaven are used in weight-lifting,
and more and more wheels are added
one by one to the vehicle for its smooth acceleration.
Maybe, nearby or far away,
the destination waits eagerly for the vehicles
Some are well skilled and lucky–
able to reach the destination–
chatting simultaneously with the wind,
make the journey a grand success.
May God help the ill-skilled and the sick-fated
who get lost somewhere else
far away from the determined destination.
Alas! The blissfulness of
the destined is temporary too,
as time passes- moment by moment
so rust of the End invades the wheels- particle by particle,
spares, at last, one single wheel to go back there
where from it came in at the very outset.
Alternative Healing Of Heart – A Poem by P.K. Deb
The long-term illness of my wife
pours instantly a course of cursed ink
on my painting–
painted efficiently and magnificently
with colourful paints
imported from my dreamland,
compels my three entities–
body, mind and soul to sink down to
the depth of bottomless ocean of fire
and snatches the fire extinguisher too,
used in extinguishing my burning heart–
set ablaze by the evil attitudes of
society, profession, politics and religion.
Alas! The burning heart is helpless
and driven blindly towards the heaps of ashes
with no escaping reverse gear.
Nevertheless, my strong will-power is bestowed
with a green signal
and I find myself submerged in the heap of
pen and papers
and blissful somehow in writing something new
about my old misfortune,
and my injured heart gets healed alternatively
by white papers with colourful pens.
This Is Not Easy – A Poem by Rosie
Life is never simply black and white
Never that easy
See the horses, almost white
Running in sea foam
See her eyes
The overcast nights
It is almost raining
Pregnant skies hollow with indecisiveness
Debating whether to split themselves open
Or miscarry
It is pouring now
Flooding the streets
Life is not a ladder
It is more like the cliffs
It is coloured like the limbo
Between love and leaving
When you left too soon to love me
The haze when I’m off it
When you’re not around
Inside my head the waves are churning
The horses are running
This is a hurricane
You are not quite a disaster
But darling I wish you were.
Pale Rodents – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne
Some Pale Rodents Pick A Color And A Finger,
A Prayer To Mary Queen Of Cottage Cheese,
And Then… They Are Off…!
…
Takeing The Inner Lane,
Passing… Rumbleing Snorting… Digging InTo The Tread,
Chaseing The Outer Line That Fades The Mane,
Magnetized InTo A Tribal Jungle Beat Of HorseShoe Gymnasiums,
Never Late For The Last Bend Of The Zipper-Bunny’s Tease,
For The Cotton-Tail And Podium Morrow…
…
One More Dive InTo The Dish,
Shallow And On A ReBreather,
The Honking Of Cab-Drivers And Finite Math,
Minuscule Metropolis With Robots For HouseWives,
Water Runs Off Their Chins In Tiny Droplets To Rain Purity UpOn Poorer
Districts,
Tilting Heads In The Canine Empire…
…
Wolves Had Packs In The BoonDocks,
Where Rats Needed A Structure To Twist Tongues,
Knotted At The Mooring For Liberty And For A Deity Of Mental Health,
To Arrive InTo A Fatherly Womb In Droves To Be Assimilated InTo A
Bleached Chorus,
Silent Lucid City Folk Leading The New World InTo The Old Country,
Through Prismatic Choreography And Gentlemen Bets,
Knicks Off The Slugger And Chips Off The Tooth…
…
These Days,Some People Will Pay AnyThing For A Funeral… A Motherly
Tomb…
…
…
Kings Are Made At The Shoveling Of Dirt,
The Jokes Are Laid ASide For Small Talk In The Office Elevator,
Just Before Approaching The Water Bottle And Kitchenette,
To Fight Over Jam Jars And Cheese Slices,
Golden Ringed Lemurs Throwing Nuts At Tourists Twenty Miles Down…
…
…
…
The Bonding Agent Of Social Integrity In Co-Relation To Preening
Morality,
Engineering A Structure Of Compromised Hands And Civilized Bakerys,
Rapping Knuckles And Ensureing Longevity Of The Program,
An Old Boy With An Old Dog And An Old Pair Of Slippers…
…
Sweating Baby-Boomed Discipline InTo The UnSatiable-Platonic BedRock,
For Incarnations Of Ponce De León To Drill InTo And Market To Massage
Parlors,
UnLess The Mechanics Of Man Call For Second-Hand Car Parks And
Collision Repair,
Those Asian Beautys Poseing So Sweetly Beside Groomed Shovels Of
Loathing Grace.
More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.