Robin Ouzman Hislop

Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor at of Motherbird.com of Poetry Life & Times.   His recent publication of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, was published by Aquillrelle.com. Buy All the Babble of the Souk by Robin Ouzman Hislop at Amazon or Lulu....... Read more

[don’t burn the midnight oil] A Poem by Yuan Changming

by

 
 
 
Yes, Elvis has left the building
And you may be glad to see the back of
A hot potato
Jumping on the bandwagon
But once in a blue moon
You will hear it on the grapevine
Rather than straight from the horse’s mouth
Which is a far cry
From the best thing since sliced bread
Something you can see eye to eye
While cutting the mustard
By drawing all the best of both worlds
To make a long story short
 
Now if you feel a bit under the weather
Do not sit on the fence
Do not let the cat out of the bag
But just give it the benefit of doubt
And then hit the sack
Even in this heat of the moment
 
[bio info]:: Yuan Changming, 8-time Pushcart nominee and author of 5 chapbooks, is the most widely published poetry author who speaks Mandarin but writes English: since mid-2005, he has had poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, Best New Poems Online, London Magazine, Threepenny Review and 1069 others across 36 countries. With a PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver.

poetrypacific.blogspot.ca/
http://poetrypacificpress.blogspot.ca/
http://www.facebook.com/poetry.pacific
http://yuanspoetry.blogspot.ca/

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Whittler’s Lament. A Poem by Ron Olsen

by

 
 
He sat on the stoop
Whittling
One stick
After another
Whittling away
Until they were gone
 
Pausing only to spit on the wet stone
To sharpen the blade
Without it
He would be finished
 
His mind waltzed from one vagary to another
Possessed by some brazen demon of old
Without defined purpose or cause
Knowing only that he had been left behind
Without a partner in the dance
 
They laughed at his plight
His suffering
His brain turning to rose colored granite
She had so loved the smooth face of the granite
And cool spring nights at the graveyard
Truly alone
At last
 
He had taken his shot and missed
And now
Sneering at the children in the street
With their catcalls
Their pranks
Tiny cheerful idiots
He was unable to remember
His need that went begging
Before the haze came
And the whittling started
 
Now there was only the blade
Working its way
Through the pile of twigs
One switch at a time
Until they were gone
His pain dulled
Momentarily
Once again
By a job well done
 
©2015 Ron Olsen – all rights reserved
 
Ron Olsen is a Peabody and Emmy award winning journalist based in Southern California. He is recently retired from the Tribune Company, where he was stationed at the Los Angeles Times, working with the newspaper’s writers and editors to adapt newspaper stories for KTLA-TV. He is the author of more than one-thousand essays and an occasional poem. His essays have been published by several local papers in the Los Angeles area. He began writing poetry just recently. He says he loves the craft of saying more with fewer words, with each word playing a significant role in the piece. “I am sometimes struck by my poetry”
he says.”I’ll look at what I’ve written and wonder where it came from-some wellspring that’s beyond my understanding. What a strange and wonderful process.”
 
 
A more complete bio can be found here –
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ron_Olsen
http://workingreporter.com/wordpress/a-question-of-priorities/
or at his blog at
http://workingreporter.com/wordpress or his Facebook page at
https://www.facebook.com/workingreporter?ref=bookmarks
 
 
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IN THE TUMBLE, BEDSHEETS ROLL A BURN-THROUGH STING. A Poem by Benedict Downing

by

 
 
 
Vestiges of yesterday,
the touch:
contoured force of weight,
map of the route,
stride at the beach,
cutting out,
a stone figure of the story,
incised epicurean scars,
saltwater on our feet,
second of soaked ooze,
locked
at the moist goo,
to chew
a purple behavior,
drooping
in the swim,
bite the cherry,
pelting ego
to climb within,
necks are
ten feet long,
legs grappled
flapping equation,
answers
for the triangle,
a shade
that stirs,
tied on
webs
of munched ground,
a shrub to care,
stooped
bones
buoy up crack.
 
 
Perpendicular
drawn on spine,
scratched limbs,
soaky meat,
bestowed fat,
sit on a roof,
pile up cubist
entrails,
left lobe,
intestines,
kidneys,
right lobe,
the corpse in view,
burn through
the drawing,
memories of omitted
childhood toys,
the put-together valve,
meat sourced from various donors,
cushioned
construction to press,
three pieces,
not at all a perfect fit,
disparate dimensions,
blamed on size,
pellets and screws
bolt the amalgamated
steel
weighted on each step,
the stride squeezes
our lower ventricle.
 
 
Roots of the walnuts
hanged below,
as support
they rise
watching
inaudibly,
marvel at
the burning ashes
on the casserole,
fired blaze,
trails on the moving picture
strangers
guessing figures,
three blackboards
solve the equation,
place a blindfold to sleep it off.
 
 
Out here,
the ceiling remains
on sketches,
placed to
awaken at the scent,
tie a pendant to hang
the smirched dahlia
on a necklace,
scaled buds on
derma peel,
as the spit skims,
walnuts are slow
to sprout branches,
let us sit across
the chalk design,
out of the inflated chamber.
 
 
A tin cup,
pour the beverage,
comb your hair,
the jagged leather,
ripped wounds,
outside the sewn thread,
our hair may want partings.
 
 
Author bio:
 
Benedict Downing has written fiction, poetry since his adolescence. He joined local community reading circles, workshops, college literary groups, and ventured into his own. Has published fiction and poetry in literary magazines and journals. He is currently working in his second novel.
 
There are two published books written by Mr.Downing. A poetry book “Sidereal Reflux” (2011) and a novel “Epicrisis” (2014).

ISBN-13: 978-1499783056 Sidereal Reflux (Poetry)
ISBN-13: 978-1499774993 Epicrisis (Novel)
www.benedictdowning.com.
 
 
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Life Pictures. A Poem by Ben Nardolilli

by

 
 
 
His grip sucked the life
from ancient rivers,
whose substance was earth,
the welcome house for all
 
with sores on,
I received your words
without pride, with
the right human veins,
 
the world opened, others
persuaded you,
their eyes criss-crossed, flashed
like rotten anger
 
a salty soul,
witch of an euro-american legend
to our mouths,
a sweating gown
 
deep like the day,
orifices like lyres,
we commuted in the worse
on all their words and pictures
 

 
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine,Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear Noir, The MinettaReview, and Yes Poetry. He has a chapbook Common Symptoms of an Enduring Chill Explained, from Folded Word Press. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel. Thanks for reading,
 
 
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Toasting the gods. A Poem by Scott Thomas Outlar

by

 
 
Little Man-child
trying to play with the Big Boys
pretending to be gods
up on Olympus
 
Careful with the hubris
lest ye fall like Atlantis
with Eve and all her serpents
 
Take a rib and suck it
down to the marrow
trying to find a First Cause
in the belly of the feast
 
It’s the passion of the Beast
welcome to carnage city
bringing the chaos nightly
 
Come dance with Bacchus
who wears the grapevines
on his head as a halo
glowing with the spilt blood
captured in the glass that ever flows
 
 
Scott Thomas Outlar lives a simple life in the suburbs, spending the days flowing and fluxing with the tide of the Tao River, marveling at the intricacies of life’s existential nature, and writing prose-fusion poetry dedicated to the Phoenix Generation. His words have appeared recently in venues such as Siren, Section 8, Midnight Lane Boutique, Dead Snakes, Mad Swirl, and Dissident Voice. His debut chapbook “A Black Wave Cometh” is forthcoming from Dink Press. More of Scott’s writing can be found at 17numa.wordpress.com.
 
 
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A Frog in the Bucket Thickens the Milk. A Poem by Robin Ouzman Hislop

by

 

What rhymes with lust
must, dust rhyme with lust
a wiggle, giggle, wriggle, a curl
stiletto – pain – signal
sign on for normalcy
on the street guys, dolls
 
Day after estrus, more than a scramble
a shambles, at home.
 
After the ball is over
our glorious swan song, seventy years on
is this the end of beginning or the beginning of the end
nightmares are here to help us
what’s the difference between, side show
or, slide show
it’s pointless to argue the point
 
Back to time
there’s no curtains for time
the show must go on.
 
After the ball is over, seventy years on
twenty fifteen
there’s no more winners
homage either to birds or worms
jump through the hoop into gorilla sky
bow down before the great strife
 
Sizzling bite gulp fizzy sprinkle scrumptious
peckish hot tasty pour butty lovely kitchens
frothy bubbly chunky plenty thick bangers
juicy dunk slurp – duh, Wilko
 
Coming soon – Day of the Jelly Baby
after the dust of war
has settled, change must
still we see the day
from star dust to eyes from ancient clay
the smell of lust, spawned in the dust.
 
A frog in the bucket thickens the milk.
 
 
About Author:
Robin Ouzman Hislop Editor of the 12 year running on line monthly poetry journal. Poetry Life and Times. Previously edited by Sara Russell who is now Editor of the sister paper li Poetry Lifetimes. In 2013 he joined with Dave Jackson Editor/Admin as Co Editor at Artvilla.com.
 
He now Edits both Facebook Pages PoetryLifeTimes and Artvilla.com as extensions of the Blog Sites at Artvilla.com.
 
He’s been previously published in a variety of international magazines, where recent publications include Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review, Appalachian University N Carolina,The Poetic Bond Volumes The Poetic Bond and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes a recently published Anthology of Sonnets: Phoenix Rising from the Ashes. Submittals may be sent to robin@artvilla.com or editor@artvilla.com Please refer to our submittal guidelines at either of the sites.

 
 
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Hypatia and the Ruined Serapeum. A Poem by Ian Irvine Hobson

by 
Excerpt from:
Awake in the Chamber of Darkness
(The Egyptian Sequence)

(Inspired by Alejandro Amenabar’s Agora)

Broken statues, torn scrolls,
shattered pottery, piles of ash,
and smoke (gently rising)
in the early morning quiet.

‘The mob have roasted knowledge, 
          silenced the Muses, stamped everything
          with God-infested words!’
mutters Theon.
          ‘And where now, oh father’ she whispers,
          ‘to speak the remnants of our world?’

Hypatia, too bright in the city
for the one God sun of Christ,
watches the skies lighten over Alexandria
          (unreal stillness).
Her Wanderers – Jupiter, Venus and the others -
          smashed or shorn of power,
this dawn, this new day for the writing

Is it here, in the clarity of her grief,
that she begins to see them 
          as if for the first time?
Not ‘circles’ but ‘curves’,
          not Ptolemy but Aristarchus. 

Soon enough the zealots will object
          to her and her knowledge, 
will attempt to erase this philosopher ‘witch’
from history, from discourse, from the dreams
          of troubled men.

They succeed for a time -
they do not succeed -
for the heavens are precise
          and stomach no faulty permutations.

My ‘curving’ planets, my
          celestial musicians,
my elliptoid wanderers
          (future astronomers will discover)
are welded 
          (of course she knows it thus!)
each to each
          in the slow 
orbits 
          of the possible.

 
About the Author
 
Ian Irvine (Hobson) is an Australian-based poet/lyricist, fiction writer and non-fiction writer. His work has featured in publications as diverse as Humanitas (USA), The Antigonish Review (Canada), Tears in the Fence (UK), Linq (Australia) and Takahe (NZ), among many others. His work has also appeared in two Australian national poetry anthologies: Best Australian Poems 2005 (Black Ink Books) and Agenda: ‘Australian Edition’, 2005. He is the author of three books and co-editor of a number of literary journals – Scintillae 2012, The Animist ezine (7 editions, 1998-2001) and Painted Words (10 editions 2005-2014). He coordinates the Professional Writing and Editing program at Bendigo Kangan Institute (Bendigo & Melbourne, Australia) and has taught in the same program at Victoria University, St. Albans, Melbourne. He has also taught history and social theory at La Trobe University (Bendigo, Australia) and holds a PhD for his work on creative, normative and dysfunctional forms of morbid ennui. Web site: http://www.authorsden.com/ianirvine
 
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Windows, Doors, And Walls . An Ekphrastic Poem by Howard Richard Debs

by

 
 
h.r.debs.windows Photo by H.R. Debs
 
Here looking out the window, drawing back the drapery
to see through the pane, depending on the day,
squinting to view the dazzling light of a new morning
or seeing rain pouring down on the street below.
Sometimes it starts with rain, the day I think about
staring out the window, will I find myself today?
I can stay at the window or go to the door.
 
The door is closed until I open it and walk
out onto the sidewalk, bright with sunlight or
 
wet beneath my feet from the early
morning rain. I stand and scan
all that surrounds
me as I seize the day,
searching for a sign within the
compass of my shadow
on the pavement very far
from a place I can call home.
 
The walls I encounter walking on my way,
they are all around to make me stop
and wonder where next to go while still
seeking a telling sign, the walls
change my course, shift my direction.
 
Along the way doors open to new worlds within
should I enter upon such invitations—
 
and other doors lead to nowhere
and if I dare turn
 
toward a route that
takes me to what
appears ahead
I will find myself
in a place beyond
where I am here now
and given time, I will
meander amid the
windows, doors, and walls h.r.debs Photo by H.R. Debs
there in a place
I can call home.
 
 
hr debs portrail
 
 
Howard Richard Debs received a University of Colorado Poetry Prize at age 19. After spending the past fifty years in the field of communications, with recognitions including a Distinguished Achievement Award from the Educational Press Association of America, he has recently resumed his literary pursuits, and his latest work appears or is forthcoming in Calliope, Big River Poetry Review, Poetica Magazine, Eclectica Magazine, Misfitmagazine, Star 82 Review, Belle Reve Literary Journal, Verse-Virtual, Dialogual, Sediments Literary-Arts Journal, Remarkable Doorways Literary Magazine, Indiana Voice Journal, Blue Bonnet Review, China Grove, Yellow Chair Review, and On Being, among others.
 
His background in photography goes back many years, both creative and technical, and his photography will be found in select publications, including in Rattle online as “Ekphrastic Challenge” artist and guest editor. Born and bred in Chicago, he now lives in sunny South Florida with his wife of 50 years Sheila, where they spend considerable time spoiling their four grandchildren. Author listing Poets & Writers Directory https://www.pw.org/content/howard_debs
Author website: http://communicatorsandcommunications.com/muse-ings/
 
 
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