Enduring the anguish of thinking… A Poem by Richard Lloyd Cederberg

 
“There was only the cemetery itself, spread out in the moonlight like a soft grey hallucination, a stony wilderness of Victorian melancholy.” (IN MEMORY)
 

 
How silently
And stern these
Straining days pass,
Where, at times, in open tyranny,
Scattered thoughts scramble
For measured application…
 
O dismay,
Each day
Embracing (the
Great word ‘WAIT’),
This (at times) tragic fate
Impelling the mind to reengage
With something other than
A wearied wide road
Worn smooth…
Another fluster putting glory on
[Hoping] to rediscover where
Newness is apparent, and where honest
Happiness is more than a shadow of things past…
 
Throughout life
(I’ve) known thinking
That piled-up (at times)
Like a day’s dead sanctities;
Thought-quakes pricked with panic –
Like vexed birds flailing on windowpanes –
Thoughts – in rising currents wild with leaves –
Trembling in trepidation at the tumults of the day,
But clinging to where Earth and Heaven meet crying:
O Burning Lion – Creator, from whom flows
The substance of all fresh thinking;
Help me bear this anguish…

    (II) AN APPEAL…

O breath of life…
Breathe on this mind that broods
(At times) so helpless and unnerved…
 
…From the utmost corners,
O divine breath,
Command my lassitude
To drift from me like a whisper
 
Preserve me from these penumbras
Where despair shrieks in the belly of clouds;
 
And, where from all dark-lipped furrows,
Hubris strolls in chatoyant silk
 
…From the four winds come,
O breath,
To breathe upon
These outworn motivations,
That this slain heart could rise up
To write rather of life than of death
 
… From the uttermost parts,
O breath of life,
Breathe on me that I might suspire
As an Eagle stirring its nest;
Hovering over its young;
Spreading forth its majestic wings
To carry each of them up to the high-places;
For it is your breath (alone) O God that sustains me…

 
 
richard lloyd cederberg
 
10/16
 
“Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Genesis 2:7
 
 
author-pic-2
 
BIOGRAPHY (10/2016) – Richard Lloyd Cederberg
 
Richard is the progeny of Swedish and Norwegian immigrants. He was born in Chicago Illinois. Richard began his journey into the arts at age six. For twelve years he played classical trumpet. But then, the British incursion of music (Beatles and the Dave Clark Five) influenced him to put down the trumpet to take-up acoustic and electric guitar, and, to write songs and lyrics. He toured professionally for ten years. In 1995 Richard was privileged to design and build his own Midi-Centered Recording Studio ~ Taylor & Grace ~ where he worked diligently until 2002. During that time he composed and multi-track recorded over 500 compositions and has two CD’s (‘WHAT LOVE HAS DONE’ and ‘THE PATH’) to his personal credit.
 
Richard’s interest in writing continues. His poetic invention confluxes integrative elements: history, parlance, alliteration, metaphor, allegory, characterization, spirituality, faith, eschatology, art, and subtext. Avoiding the middle-road; he takes advantage of diverse poetic anatomies including: Rhythmical, Poetic/Prose, Triolets, Syllable formats, Story-Poems, Freeform, Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, and Acrostic. Richard’s work has been (and is) featured in a wide variety of anthologies, compendiums, and e-zines including: Poetry Life and Times, Artvilla, and Motherbird. Richard was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
 
Published books include:
 
The Monumental Journey Series (adventure/mystery/historical fiction) 1. A MONUMENTAL JOURNEY… 2. IN SEARCH OF THE FIRST TRIBE… 3. THE UNDERGROUND RIVER… 4. BEYOND UNDERSTANDING. A new adventure/thriller, BETWEEN THE CRACKS has been published. A new eschatological drama – AFTER WE WERE HUMAN – is being written. Follow the lives of several friends as a new race of ageless multi-dimensional humans comes back to Earth with their Creator to rule and reign for 1000 years.
 
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Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
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In Loving Memory of . . . Janet P. Caldwell 14 February 1959 ~ 20 September 2016. William S. Peters, Sr.

 
weep not for me
 
weep not for me,
nor despair, nor lament,
on my crossing the waters,
for my life has been full,
for i had you
 
i go to a better place,
where i shall make a bed for you
as i longingly await your arrival,
for we are eternally betrothed
 
i shall have the angels sing
a song of welcome . . .
and the flowers of the field
shall dance gleefully
in the embrace of brother wind
 
the sun always shines here
acknowledging our mutual brightness
where the night-ness
is no more
 
so i ask of thee
to weep not for me
nor despair, nor lament
on my crossing the waters,
for my life has been full,
for i had you

 
 
bill-utah-summer
 
 
Bill is an avid Writer / Poet who has been committed to this path since 1966. He currently has to his credit over 70 Published Books as well as a myriad of Newspaper and Magazine Articles. Bill supports the venue of Creative Expression regardless of form. He also is an activist for the progression and evolution of Humanity and its Love of each other.
 
Recently (September 2015) Bill was honored to be named the Poet Laureate at the Kosovo International Poetry Festival where his book The Vine Keeper was showcased. He was also awarded The Golden Grape Award.
 
Bill currently serves as the CEO of Inner Child Enterprises, ltd., Managing Director of Inner Child Press, Executive Producer of Inner Child Radio and Executive Editor of Inner Child Magazine. His life partner Janet P. Caldwell stands by his side in support of the Inner Child vision
 
For more of Bill, visit his personal web Site at :
 
www.iamjustbill.com
 
for Inner Child . . .
 
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Transforming with Poetry. Juan Ramón Barat translated by Tony Martin-Woods (InkwellArts)Video Poem


 
 
This performance took place on 8 October 2016 20.35 BST in Leeds UK at the Inkwell Arts Centre. Editor’s Note
 
 
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Plight. A Poem by Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown

plight-a-poem

You don’t get that right

To understand our plight


Were you there?

When that slave girl

Was ‘KILLED’

The very day,

They stole her away

 

Were you there?

When that slave girl

Was bound

Shackled and chained

Cow bells on the neck

That ‘rang’

 

Were you there?

When she rode that vast ocean

On Noah’s waves

Of never ending rains

 

Were you there?

At ‘HER’ door of ‘NO RETURN’

Uneducated to your customs and ways

Wit’ an unfair playing ground while trying to learn

 

Were you there?

Standing on ‘dat’ Auction Block

At 14 years of age

As she watched

Dat’ Auctioneer’s gavel drop!!!

SOLD: TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER!

He’d say

To her dismay

ALL WAS AT LOST

Down to her family;

Just given away

FREE’ of cost

 

Were you there?

As she picked a bail,

O’ COTTON

Were you there?

When sorting out the bushel’s

That rotted

Were you there as she picked

All through her midnight

 

Were you there?

When she couldn’t give ‘Massa’

Any fight

 

Were you there?

When she warmed ‘Massa’

Anytime ‘HE’ wanted both day and/or night

 

Were you there?

When she ‘HAD’ to cast ‘ALL’ her cares

On a ‘god’

That she was ‘TOLD’ didn’t care

 

Were you there?

As she entered those back doors

 

Were you there?

When she was called a wench and then some more…

 

Were you there?

When she was kicked to the ground

Like Christ,

Got back up

And never made a sound

 

Were you there?

When she had to eat slime and hogs

 

Were you there?

To watch her treated less than a dog

 

Were you there?

When mixed babies came from her

 

Were you there?

When she begged ‘Massa’ to keep ‘do’s’ chillins’ in ‘dat’ dear dirt

Plus for ‘da’ one’s not belonging to her

 

Were you there?

As she watched

So many ‘HUNG ON HIGH’

 

Were you there?

When she stood tall

At it all

Never allowing to cry

 

Were you there?

While she couldn’t tire, sleep nor snore

 

Were you there?

When she polished silverware

Plucked string beans

While

Cleaning on hands and knees

O’ those ‘HATED’ hardwood floors

 

Were you there?

When Missy lied on her

 

Were you there?

At her foul treatment

Far less than dirt

 

Were you there?

At her rape(s), beatings and cries

 

Were you there?

As she wondered

IF’

God even cared

Let alone was alive

 

Were you there?

When she prayed to just die

Were you there?

When she ate

Humility pie

 

Were you there?

At worship

While sitting in ‘dat’ balcony

Asking permission

To use ‘BLACK ONLY’ facilities

 

Were you there?

When ‘dat’ slave girl

Was KILLED

The day they stole her away

And

You have nerve to wonder why???

You don’t get that right

To understand

Our’ plight

I’ve been there

CAUSE’ SHE LIVES’

In ‘da’ ‘STEAL’ of my nights!!!

 
 

Author: Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown

(Authored: Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight and

SOLD: TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER)

Dedicated To: Black History Month

All Rights Reserved@2016

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author.

 
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Biography

 

I, Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown, am the wife of Cardell Nino Brown Sr. and from our union came Cardell Jr., Renee and Raven Brown. I am the offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Peter C. Drummond of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My siblings are Delbert D. Drummond and the late Pastor Shawn C. Drummond. I was born in North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune US Naval Hospital. I am a graduate of Geneva College of Pennsylvania, and my love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through my very unique style of poetry, which is viewed globally. My poetry is inspired by God and Dr. Maya Angelou. Because of them I pledge this: “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

 

Renees Poems with Wings are Words in Flight” is flown across the seas by God’s raven. There are several Scriptures that I love; however, this one speaks volumes during this ‘season’: “And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:7 KJV)


 
 
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Charles Bernstein, Ian Probstein, Poetry in “Breaking Through”

Ok, listen up, people poets out there, here we’ve got two real contemporary pros going at it about – what’s poetry about and how you translate it, if at all! Charles Bernstein writer of All the Whisky in Heaven and Attack on the Difficult Poem & Ian Probstein, a Russian American poet/translator, who’se translated both Bernstein & Ezra Pound’s works into Russian literature. There’s a whole lot of yarning going on between these two together with their interviewer plus a bit of poetry reading by them both. Don’t mind the couple of small show break adds that interupt. Listen to these two guys 30 minute poetry video update as to where they think poetry is at, hosted for you at Artvilla.com. Editor Robin Ouzman Hislop.


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