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

Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (38-42) Poem. Christopher Barnes

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Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (38)

 

One frame inheriting another…

Blood on marble and white roses.

Stand-alone vampire crystallizes into a statue.

The nearest pall-bearer sucks air. Crushed urn.

 

 Froth overruns chapelry pews

Through a hinge-wrecked door –

 An ephemeral embodiment.

 

Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (39)

 

 Take No. 7

 In rubescent lamé pyjamas.

 Sabrina Roper’s is a skin-deep part,

 Moulding exposed nerves

 In the screening room.

 A moon-buffed kiss on hand.

 His Satanic Majesty simpers.

Runaway violin a bedlamite tango…

Chimps neighing over the sobs of men…

 

Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (40)

 

 The picture palace reviews

 May get off-the-beam

 About the overacting.

 Hold the focus,

 Instantaneous sunrise behind a shot –

 Costumes: the fantasia keeps time

 With a hue and cry.

 The limelit alehouse at dead of night.

 Our Stunt Co-ordinater isn’t exasperated

 By bee swarms in gusts,

 Nor the beg-hard grimace

 On Manola Dean’s hauled up face.

 

 Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (41)

 

 Fuzz on Bevan’s palms

 Flaunted as the transom’s pegged.

 Simon, the Boom Operator, tips to the left.

 Cut to…billboard puffing the movie show ‘Nosferatu’.

 

 Camera 6 whirls to Sabrina Roper

 In the ruck of a bee-keepers net.

 A schnauzer piddles in floorboards.

 

 The relinquished rocking chair teeters

 Indicating tea, sandwiches

 And a twist-ragged Script Conference.

 

Filming ‘Blood Shot Silk’ – Deleted Scene (42)

 

 Smoke machine on a brae…

 A hog spews on moss.

 Effervescence in dirty sky.

 Disfigured colour sergeant gains time,

 Pulls out a smooth-bore.

 Snigger, incandescent flash.

 The dream is taking flesh.

 Drumroll on soundtrack – mental note.

 The regular steps of the fait accompli

 May be fair-weather, deleted.

 

 

 Christopher Barnes, UK. Some bio details…

 

In 1998 I won a Northern Arts writers award.  In July 200 I read at Waterstones bookshop to promote the anthology ‘Titles Are Bitches’.  Christmas 2001 I debuted at Newcastle’s famous Morden Tower doing a reading of my poems.  Each year I read for Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival and I partake in workshops.  2005 saw the publication of my collection LOVEBITES published by Chanticleer Press, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh.

On Saturday 16Th August 2003 I read at the Edinburgh Festival as a Per Verse poet at LGBT Centre, Broughton St.

 I also have a BBC web-page www.bbc.co.uk/tyne/gay.2004/05/section_28.shtml and http://www.bbc.co.uk/tyne/videonation/stories/gay_history.shtml (if first site does not work click on SECTION 28 on second site.

Christmas 2001 The Northern Cultural Skills Partnership sponsored me to be mentored by Andy Croft in conjunction with New Writing North.  I   made a radio programme for Web FM community radio about my writing group.  October-November 2005, I entered a poem/visual image into the art exhibition The Art Cafe Project, his piece Post-Mark was shown in Betty’s Newcastle.  This event was sponsored by Pride On The Tyne.  I made a digital film with artists Kate Sweeney and Julie Ballands at a film making workshop called Out Of The Picture which was shown at the festival party for Proudwords, it contains my poem The Old Heave-Ho.  I worked on a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, facilitated by Lisa Mathews (poet) which exhibited at The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University, including a film piece by the artist Predrag Pajdic in which I read my poem On Brenkley St.  The event was funded by The Policy, Ethics and Life Sciences Research Institute, Bio-science Centre at Newcastle’s Centre for Life.  I was involved in the Five Arts Cities poetry postcard event which exhibited at The Seven Stories children’s literature building.  In May I had 2006 a solo art/poetry exhibition at The People’s Theatre why not take a look at their website http://ptag.org.uk/whats_on/gallery/recent_exhbitions.htm

The South Bank Centre in London recorded my poem “The Holiday I Never Had”; I can be heard reading it on www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=18456

REVIEWS: I have written poetry reviews for Poetry Scotland and Jacket Magazine and in August 2007 I made a film called ‘A Blank Screen, 60 seconds, 1 shot’ for Queerbeats Festival at The Star & Shadow Cinema Newcastle, reviewing a poem…see www.myspace.com/queerbeatsfestival  On September 4 2010, I read at the Callander Poetry Weekend hosted by Poetry Scotland.  I have also written Art Criticism for Peel and Combustus Magazines.

 

 

 

 

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Beyond Me and You.Video.Poem.Robin Marchesi

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Beyond You and Me

Beyond You and Me
 
 
Me
 
Robin Marchesi, born in 1951, began writing in his teens, much to the consternation of his mother,

the sister of Eric Hobsbawm, the historian.

In 1992 Cosmic Books published his first book entitled  “A B C Quest”.

In 1996 March Hare Press published “Kyoto Garden” and in 1999 “My Heart is As…”

ClockTowerBooks published his Poetic Novella, “A Small Journal of Heroin Addiction”, digitally, in 2000.

Charta Books published his latest work entitled “Poet of the Building Site”, about his time working with Barry Flanagan the Sculptor of Hares, in association with the Irish Museum of Modern Art.

He is presently working on an upcoming novel entitled “A Story Made of Stone.”
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 http://www.amazon.com/A-Small-Journal-Heroin-Addiction/product-reviews/0743300521

http://www.illywords.com/2011/09/down-the-rabbit-hole-a-glimpse-into-the-wonderland-of-barry-flanagan/


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Abandoned Church(Ballad of The Great War)Poem.Torre A. DeVito Translated from Iglesia Abandonada.Federico García Lorca

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IGLESIA ABANDONADA
(BALADA DE LA GRAN GUERRA)

Yo tenía un hijo que se llamaba Juan.
Yo tenía un hijo.
Se perdió por los arcos un viernes de todos los muertos.
Lo vi jugar en las últimas escaleras de la misa
y echaba un cubito de hojalata en el corazón del sacerdote.
He golpeado los ataúdes. ¡Mi hijo! ¡Mi hijo! ¡Mi hijo!
Saqué una pata de gallina por detrás de la luna y luego
comprendí que mi niña era un pez
por donde se alejan las carretas.
Yo tenía una niña.
Yo tenía un pez muerto bajo la ceniza de los incensarios.
Yo tenía un mar. ¿De qué? ¡Dios mío! ¡Un mar!
Subí a tocar las campanas, pero las frutas tenían gusanos
y las cerillas apagadas
se comían los trigos de la primavera.
Yo vi la transparente cigüeña de alcohol
mondar las negras cabezas de los soldados agonizantes
y vi las cabañas de goma
donde giraban las copas llenas de lágrimas.
En las anémonas del ofertorio to encontraré, ¡corazón mío!,
cuando el sacerdote levante la mula y el buey con sus fuertes brazos
para espantar los sapos nocturnos que rondan los helados paisajes del cáliz.
Yo tenía un hijo que era un gigante,
pero los muertos son más fuertes y saben devorar pedazos de cielo.
Si mi niño hubiera sido un oso,
yo no temería el siglo de los caimanes,
ni hubiese visto el mar amarrado a los árboles
para ser fornicado y herido por el tropel de los regimientos.
¡Si mi niño hubiera sido un oso!
Me envolveré sobre esta lona dura para no sentir el frío de los musgos.
Sé muy bien que me darán una manga o la corbata;
pero en el centro de la misa yo rompere el timón y entonces
vendrá a la piedra la locura de pingüinos y gaviotas
que harán decir a los que duermen y a los que cantan por las esquinas:
él tenía un hijo.
¡Un hijo! ¡Un hijo! ¡Un hijo
que no era más que suyo. porque era su hijo!
¡Su hijo! ¡Su hijo! ¡Su híjo!

 ***

The Abandoned Church
(A Ballad of The Great War)

Translated and further interpreted by Torre DeVito
from “IGLESIA ABANDONADA” by Federico García Lorca

I had a son who was named John.
I lost a son whom I look for in
the ruins of the church one All-Hallows eve.
I see him playing on the steps during a mass long since ended,
Dipping his little tin pail into the well of the priest’s heart.
I beat the coffins for my son (My son!) and cast
chicken bones during a full moon to try and understand

I had a vision that my little child was a fish
left where they move the vendor’s carts away.
I had a little child, a fish that died
in the ashes of incense burners.
And in my vision I was the sea. What? My God! A vast sea!

During his funeral I rang the bells,
but the bells have decayed like wormy fruit.
and I lit the candles, now devoured:
eaten like the spring wheat.

And in the wine, I saw the invisible reaper which
plucks the black heads of anguished soldiers:
in those trays with rubber housings
in which they pass around cups filled with tears.

Amongst the holy flowers of the offertory you will find my heart
when the priest raises the host like one who lifts
a mule or an ox with his strong arms. He does this to
scare away the toads that come out at night to haunt
the frozen landscape of the chalice.

I had a son who was a giant,
but the dead are stronger than the living
and they know how to devour pieces of heaven.

If my child was a bear,
I would not be afraid of the alligator’s stealth,
nor would I have seen the sea tied to the trees
to be ravished and trampled by regiments.
If my child was a bear!

I wrap my child in stiff fabric to dispel the cold of the mosses.
I know very well that I will get a sleeve or an armband;
but in the middle of the funeral I will break the rudder
we will drift to a rock in the sea – full of the madness of
penguins and seagulls, and it will cause those who sleep and
those who sing from the street-corners to cry:
He had a son. A son! A son!

I had a son! Not that he was more than my son,
but because he belongs to us all now, they cry:
Our son, our son, our son…

***

( http://www.tdevito.com )

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W.S.Sonnet 53.French Translation Richard Vallance

by 
Tiré de = from:The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: 
Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium 
= Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : 
Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième millénaire.
Victoria, British Columbia: Friesen Press, © 2013 / 

Chapitre 2 : sonnets en français

Sonnet 53

d’après le Sonnet LIII (53) de William Shakespeare

Alexandrin

Laquelle serait l’essentielle à te définir,
Des ténèbres innombrables qui te poursuivent ?
Parmi ces pénombres qui veulent se réunir
À toi, à qui est la mine plus inexpressive ?
Décrire Adonis, et son image dans la glace
Veut te contrefaire aussi bien qu’il t’affaiblit ;
Les beaux-arts, auraient-ils, Hélène, autant de grâce,
Que la frise hellénique, elle qui t’embellit ?
L’on voit au beau printemps s’épanouir l’année,
Dont la foison est trop exquise et un atout,
Mais elle a moins d’abondance que ta Beauté ;
Te voilà donc bénie et reconnue partout.
   Qu’elle soit prévisible, la grâce t’appartient,
   Et la constance imprévisible aussi bien.

Richard Vallance

Le Sonnet 53 de Richard Vallance a été publié dans le vol. 7, numéro 3, été 2007, page 18 de Sonnetto Poesia ISSN1705-4524= was previously published in Sonnetto Poesia ISSN 1705-4524.Vol. 7 No. 3 summer 2007, page 18

Dit-il : Cette nouvelle version du sonnet que j’ai composé en français ne constitue 
pas du tout une simple traduction.  C’est en effet ma création originale du sonnet 53 
de William Shakespeare (1564-1616).  My version of  William Shakespeare's Sonnet 
53 is simply not to be construed as a running translation of the original. It is in fact 
my own original creation.

Sonnet LIII 

What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
Speak of the spring and foison of the year;
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
And you in every blessed shape we know.
   In all external grace you have some part,
   But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Commentaires sur la recréation du sonnet 53 de William Shakespeare par Richard Vallance = 

Comments on Richard Vallance’s recreation of William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 53 into French:

Ta recréation du sonnet de Shakespeare, fort réussie, me touche d’autant plus que... 
passim...  [j]e viens de comparer d’un peu plus près ton sonnet 53 avec l’original...
 passim... et les traductions d’Henri Thomas et Armel Guerne. Si tu t’éloignes parfois 
délibérément de la lettre, tu saisis l’esprit des Sonnets de Shakespeare, en particulier 
la musicalité et les antithèses, dont celle de la chute. (Thierry Guinhut, France.) 
http://www.thierry-guinhut-litteratures.com/)

Translated: Your recreation of Shakespeare’s sonnet, a success in itself, affects me all 
the more when I compare it with the translations of Henri Thomas and Armel Guerne.  
If you occasionally stray from the letter, you never stray from the spirit of Shakespeare’s 
sonnets.  Your French faithfully reflects the  musicality, the play on antithesis and the 
surprising twist of his rhyming couplet.

Had Richard Vallance only carried the images of Sonnet 53 safely across the pond to lay 
them down in new  Alexandrine accommodations, his achievement would have been notable; 
but he has done something rarer... by reminding us of the Sonnet’s intentions.  He has given 
us a love poem: one that no Dark Lady would easily resist.  (Becca Menon, Becca Books, NYC)

I read your translation/adaptation of sonnet 53 and enjoyed it ― a strange effect of translations 
is sometimes one understands an aspect of the original better in the translation; Shakespeare’s 
already moderately remote from us, that is our use of the English. So your translation brings 
several aspects of the original to light which are perhaps a bit opaque in the original.  
(Howard Giskin, Department of Modern and Classical Languages, University of  Connecticut, Storrs)

Vraiment la traduction du sonnet 53 de W.S. est excellent. Je peux te dire qu’en français ça coule avec une douceur infinie. C’est de toute beauté. Gilles Le Chasseur (Rimouski, Québec, Canada)

Translated: Your translation of W.S.'s Sonnet 53 is excellent.  I can honestly say
 that it flows with infinite grace in French. It is a thing of beauty.


We urge readers of these sonnets in Poetry Life & Times pre-published 
from The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendes. 
Victoria, B.C., Canada, Friesen Press, © June 2013  300 sonnets in English, 
French, German, Chinese & Farsi, http://vallance22.hpage.com/, to visit the
site. Readers may also contact Richard  Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at:
vallance22@gmx.com for further information. 



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Doors. Sonnet.Poem. Ma Li. Translated Chinese Tang Yao. Howard Giskin
		

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门与门


 


我一直注视着一个人，一个陌生人


我在楼梯口遇见过他，他打开了一道门


正是冬天，我正在浴盆中洗澡的时刻


这个人从某一个方向朝我走来，破门而入


这个人的眼睛在一开始的时候就装满了


关于门的故事，医院的门，公墓的门


这个人走遍了黑夜，站在一个小镇安静的门外


这个人左手藏着一把西班牙小牛角刀


右手握着一卷爱伦坡式的恐怖小说


身上有酒，还有心爱女人的照片


我与这个人匆匆一瞥，他招呼我开


我不慌不忙地去开门，门被推开了


但我醒了，门把我从现实推向幽蔽的梦境


门又把我从梦境扯回现实的一个角落


 


Doors


 


I have been watching a man, a stranger


I met him at the stair-head, he opened a door


In wintertime when I was in the tub


He came to me from somewhere entering


Eyes filled with doors; hospital doors, cemetery doors


Passing the night standing outside the 


Quiet door of a small town, hiding a Spanish 


Horn knife in his left hand, horror story in the right 


Bottle of wine in his pocket and a photo of a beloved woman


I caught a glimpse of this man who asked 


Me to open the door; in no hurry, door 


Pushed open from reality I woke into 


Dreamland confined when again a door pulled 


Me from dreamland to a corner of reality.


 


***


Ma Li is a contemporary poet, painter and essayist. She is also the chief editor of the writing column of South Weekend, the most famous and widely issued weekly newspaper in China. She was born in the seaside town Zhanjiang in 1960. She began to write poems in the 1980’s, and essays in 1990’s. She is a member in the Chinese Writers Association. She has published several poetry collections, like “Ma Li Poetry Collection,” and “Ma Li’s Golden Sonnet,” the latter which won first prize in the “Chinese New Classic Poem Award” competition in 2007. In addition, she has published several essay collections and held her own art exhibition.


 


Tang Yao comes from Xuzhou, China. At present she lives in Nanjing. Her area of specialization is foreign and applied linguistics. She focuses on translation both from Chinese to English and from English to Chinese, and has co-translated two books from English to Chinese. She has also done research on the translation of ancient Chinese poems.


 


Howard Giskin has taught in the Department of English at Appalachian State University since 1989. He works mainly in the area of World Literature, with particular interest in Asian culture, literature and philosophy, as well as Latin American literature. He has co-edited An Introduction to Chinese Culture through the Family (SUNY Press, 2001), and has edited a volume of Chinese folktales (NTC / Contemporary, 1997), as well as written articles on Argentinean writer Jorge Luis Borges, and published poetry. His interests also include the intersection of the sciences and humanities. He has taught in Asia, Africa, Europe and Latin America, and lives with his wife Vicki in Millers Creek, North Carolina.


 

Phoenix  Book Image

 

 Ma li’s Sonnet Doors in its original Chinese text together with its translation by Tang Yao and Howard Giskin appear in The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium= Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième millénaire –at Friesen Press. ISBN: Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 Paperback: 978-1-4602-1701-6 eBook: 978-1-4602-1702-3. 

http://vallance22.hpage.com



 


 


 


 


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Fireworks. Sonnet.Poem.Candice James
		

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Bold fireworks splashed against a blackened sky
Flared up to burn night down to raw red dawn.
We travelled light with broken compass nigh,
With nothing left of value we could pawn.
We trusted in the knowledge of the wind,
And drifted on the wet silk of her lip,
Until our vows of love became unpinned.
Untangled heartbeats.  Unjoined at the hip.
An ancient masterpiece now out of fashion,
We spun beneath the axis of the moon.
Two star crossed lovers in a web of passion,
We witnessed midnight crashing into noon.
Erased, we’re the collision of two comets;
New ink stains blurred on antiquated sonnets.
 
 
IMAG0706
 
Candice James was born in New Westminster, BC and is a poet, artist, musician, and 
singer/songwriter. 
She is currently serving her second  three year term as Poet Laureate of the City of 
New Westminster.
 
CANDICE IS ALSO
President of Royal City Literary Arts Society
Advisory Board Member Muse International (India)
Advisory Board Member of the Federation of BC Writers
Past President of the Federation of BC Writers
 
Author of 7 poetry books:
”A Split In The Water”; 
“Inner Heart – a journey”; 
“Bridges and Clouds”; 
“Midnight Embers – a Book of Sonnets”
“Shorelines” – a book of villanelles 
“Ekphrasticism – Painted Words”
“Purple Haze” 
 
Awards Received
Writers International Network “Distinguished Poet 2013”
Pentasi B – Phillippines  “Woman of Prestige 2013”
Honorary Professor International Academy of Arts (Greece)
 
Keynote speaker/panelist at
“Word On The Street” Vancouver, BC
“Black Dot Roots Cultural Collective” Vancouver, BC
“Write On The Beach” White Rock, BC
“Writers’ Etc” Los Angeles, CA
 
Phoenix  Book Image
 


 
This Sonnet Fireworks appears in the The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: 
Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium 
= Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début 
du troisième millénaire. 
Vallance, Richard, Ed-in-Chief. Victoria, British Columbia: Friesen Press, ©
  
Some 300 sonnets and ghazals in English, French, Spanish, German and Farsi 
―published at 
Friesen Press, and now available.   
   
Friesen Press will do all the marketing and distribution. 
   
To be available in major bookstores & through all major online order channels 
such as Amazon.com, Alibris.com, Smithsbook's, Ebay and Barnes & Noble: 
For more information on the anthology, please visit our site. 
The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres 

http://vallance22.hpage.com/ 


 

editor@artvilla.com

robin@artvilla.com

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Sometimes I Can’t be Arsed with Poetry.Sonnet.Poem.David Seddon
		

			 by  		

					

			
			

				
Sometimes I can’t be arsed with poetry
and syllables that crash when they should dance
like marionettes pulled by industry
or inspiration due to muse or chance.
And what’s the point of words however good?
Does anyone read them and fall in love
or curse them, gut them, spill or drink their blood?
Save poets and critics, who gives a shove?
I tell you, some days I would rather think
myself a man moved more by luck than verse
or plumb pipes together than words that stink:
at least dignity’s there in fuller purse.
And what’s a sonnet but weight round your neck?
An afternoon’s work or a lifetime’s check?

David Seddon

David Seddon has been writing poetry and sonnets for over 30 years. 
He is from Liverpool in the North West of England and is a member
of various poetry groups in that area. Among other venues, his poetry
has appeared in various anthologies, and in Ink Sweat and Tears, 
Obsessed with Pipework, Other Poetry, Poetry in the Waiting Room, 
Poetry Scotland, Sonnetto Poesia  and Under the Radar. He has  a BA in 
Philosophy and an  MA and Diploma in Counselling. He works as a person
-centred and existential counsellor in private practice.

Sometimes I Can’t be Arsed with Poetry' appears in The Phoenix Rising 
from the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium= 
Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début 
du troisième millénaire. -now in galley production stage at Friesen Press
scheduled for release June 2013. ISBN: Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 
Paperback: 978-1-4602-1701-6 eBook: 978-1-4602-1702-3. 



 


We urge readers of these sonnets in Poetry Life & Times pre-published 
from The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendes. 
Victoria, B.C., Canada, Friesen Press, © June 2013  300 sonnets in English, 
French, German, Chinese & Farsi, http://vallance22.hpage.com/, to visit the
site. Readers may also contact Richard  Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at:
vallance22@gmx.com for further information. 



 


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RMS Titanic Centennial   Sonnets 7 & 8.  Poem. Richard Vallance.
		

			 by  		

					

			
			

				
7

The Dusk Casts Shadows

The dusk casts shadows on the drowning sun,
Titanic's lights ablaze.  She cleaves the sea,
a mirror to the stars, her maiden run 
serene success by some divine decree.
The falling swell has passed, the past astern.
The last two days will spell “The Promised Land”
each Steerage soul must face with some concern, 
with little else but landing grant in hand.
In First, astern the barren promenade,
the after-mast casts light in frosty arcs
on Ida Straus *, her furs, her pale pomade,
and Isidor, in arm, as she remarks,
before retiring to the plush saloon, 
“The sea’s like glass this Sunday night.  No moon.”
***

***
8
“Iceberg dead ahead!”
[11:40 p.m. April 14 1912] 

         “The sea is calm tonight, 
          The tide is full, the moon lies fair 
                         Upon the straits; …”

          Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach (1867)

The sea’s like glass this Sunday night. No moon
casts light upon the ice-pocked sea, where stars
are cast in bituminous black, in tune
with Ages Past. Titanic flat-out scars
the glassy sea her raking bowsprit cleaves:
her splashing wake’s so cold her passengers 
must flee the promenades the starlight leaves
in livid darkness.... where nothing stirs,
and nothing stays the artificial breeze
that snakes along the hull, and takes its pulse
on brittle rivets, frozen; so they seize
upon the berg Titanic can’t repulse.
   Fleet * alerts the bridge, “Iceberg dead ahead!”
   “Astern!”  Propellers lash.  The iceberg 's fled. 

***

***




RMS Titanic Centennial Sonnets 7 & 8.  are excerpts from Richard Vallance's  
Garland of Sonnets due for later publication, in - The Phoenix Rising from 
the Ashes: Anthology of sonnets of the early third millennium= Le Phénix 
renaissant de ses cendres : Anthologie de sonnets au début du troisième
millénaire -now in the galley production stage at Friesen Press, scheduled 
for  release June 2013. ISBN: Hardcover: 978-1-4602-1700-9 Paperback: 
978-1-4602-1701-6 eBook: 978-1-4602-1702-3.  




We urge readers of these sonnets in Poetry Life & Times pre-published from 
The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes = Le Phénix renaissant de ses cendes. 
Victoria, B.C., Canada, Friesen Press, © June 2013  300 sonnets in English, 
French, German, Chinese & Farsi, http://vallance22.hpage.com/, to visit the
site. Readers may also contact Richard  Vallance, Editor-in-Chief, at:
vallance22@gmx.com for further information. 



 




 


 


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