Poets

Riding Dark Horse Nightmare(3).Poems.Joan McNerney

by

(i.)

 

to prison library

where sewer

backs up flooding

cages of books

my brains are washed

by a short scientist

 

 detectives trail me

arrested by police

giving up to

handcuffs  ether

 

now on train

calendars peel

off cars

1942   1962   1982

2198   1892   1294

passengers screaming

screaming off track

burning 3rd rail

 

in swamp struggling

to reach green reeds

i   am   a

fixed target

paper duck

*pull trigger*fire pin*thru barrel*into muzzle*

b u l l e t                 s h o t

paper duck

mowed down.

 ***

(ii.)

an executive

 

showed me in

i, shy

as an orphan

 

her charming face

thru sewing room

viewing beige cabinets

bolts of silk

tactical prints

her life in threads

swatches impressive

floral

 

discerning glances

make me hurry

out the rear

but she invited

me only to see

her material things

& feel them

unattainable

 

all handsome houses

have well guarded gardens

lush chrysanthemums

smothering me

dog-faced.

***

(iii.)

–

“A” train

brassy blue

electric

 

close eyes

watch points

like stars

 

think now

how insignificant

compared to train

speaking for itself

 

stars known

in no language

burn shoot

thru

tiger’s eyes

 

brain in

constant action

reaction

 

to what we do not know

plans of distant stars

galaxies floating as

 

“A” train

silver worm

slides under

big belly

of city

 
 

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Spectrum, three Bright Spring Press Anthologies and several Kind of A Hurricane Publications. She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net. Poet and Geek recognized her work as their best poem of 2013. Four of her books have been published by fine small literary presses and she has three e-book titles.

Vivitar

 

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My Cumbria.Poem.Lulu Gee

by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Oh!  My heart’s in Cumbria,
That for so long I’ve missed,
The blue grey hills and valleys
Of early Autumn’s kissed.
For not since young I’ve seen it
Beneath a northern sky,
When at dawn in soft grey mist
I watched the clouds race by.

The lakes ‘neath mountain summits
Are deepest peacock green,
With trees aflame in Autumn,
The like you’ve never seen!
For colours rich in texture
Are painting gold the hills
While heathers bathe in purples,
Ahead of winter chills.

All through this golden silence
By silver tarns aflow,
The low-land sheep are grazing
Where tangled breezes blow
And o’er beyond in Keswick,
You’ll see the ospreys there,
Among the blue of shadows
Where sights of them are rare.

Yet should you walk yet higher
To climb the tallest peak,
There’s snow as white as crystal
Where clouds will brush your cheek.
My heart so loves this landscape
That Autumn’s long desired,
The lakes and fells and mountains,
Where poets are inspired.

The bronze and gold this season
Will nestle on the brink,
Of shores beside pearl waters,
Where trout and salmon slink.
Oh! My heart’s in Cumbria,
That for so long I’ve missed
But hope prevails I may return
To keep an Autumn tryst.

—

Lulu

  Lulu Gee lives on the south east coast of England.
She’s had a varied working career starting at a theatrical shoemakers designing and making shoes for most of the west end shows in London, then as a hotelier and finally in finance for a corporate cryogenic company until she retired, and now is a proud published author of three poetry books.
She now writes full-time with her two dogs Teddy and Dolly never far from her side in her newly acquired cottage in the Kent countryside, known as the garden of England.
Her first book, ‘Dolly’s Wonderful New Life’ is a story in verse of the rescue and re-homing of her beloved border terrier, Dolly Daydream, while the second and third were both written in conjunction with the poet Dan Lake.
Her latest character Miss Twizzy is about to be published and hopefully be in the shops for Christmas 2013
At the moment she is working on a collection of fantasy poetry that will appeal the child in all of us.

 

Her diverse poetry can also be found at http://a.allpoetry.com/Lulu_Gee

 

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Season of Black. Poem. Sara L Russell
		

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sara's vampyre


 


For winter I wear black.

 not one spark of colour

 shall break my mourning for this

 season of death.

 It speaks of the way I feel inside;

 the chill stab of sorrow, 

 the darkness of hurt long concealed.


 There will be no yellow

 until daffodils appear;

 no blue until the bluebells,

 no pink until the cherry blossoms

 scatter their petals

 over the long-thawed land

 to make way for the coming of the goddess of spring.


 Black is the opposite of white,

 of the flat white snow;

 black’s like a sheltered cave.

 Let me hibernate in shadow

 draw the curtains

 close my eyes.

 Wake me only when springtime finally arrives.


***


 


 

sara russell

 


Sara Russell Thanks Robin, Rebekah, Rab & Val… this poem was originally written in 2011 because I never liked the season of winter and suffer from S.A.D., but since the tragic death of my sister this year (early December) it seemed to fit my mood, to post it again online. Trying my best to have a normal Christmas… of course you never know when things are really actually OK until suddenly they’re not, and someone special is gone forever.


***


AKA @pinkyandrexa Poet, Artist, Cartoonist, Goth, Time Traveller. Friend of cats everywhere. Former Editor of Poetry Life & Times. … See also http://creativethinkersintl.ning.com/profile/SaraLouiseRussell plus over a million poetry links online.


***


Sara Louise Russell , whose internet name is “PinkyAndrexa”, is a UK poet who has earned a well-deserved reputation as a highly respected twenty-first century poetry publisher and poet. She was the founder and Editor-in-Chief of Poetry Life & Times, one of the world’s premier poetry E-zines, which ran monthly from 1998-2006 under her tutelage. She has always been in on the scene with graphic design, animation, 3D art, web design, sign writing, photography, film and poetry recital videos. Sara is founder and current editor of Paper Li. Poetry Lifetimes. http://paper.li/pinkyandrexa/1321389290.


Her poetry has been published in Artvilla, AuthorsDen, Hello Poetry, The New Pleiades Anthology of Poetry (Describe Adonis Press, Ottawa, © 2005), Sonnetto Poesia, Word Machinist and more, as well as in several e-books by Kedco Studios Inc. (USA). Her skills as a sonneteer are particularly remarkable as featured in the recent publication of the anthology of sonnets Phoenix Rising from the Ashes. Friesnen Press Ottawa Canada Edited by Richard Vallance.

 

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World by the Arse (A Sermon).Poem.Karen Springer.
		

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Yepper,

 –and they certainly do!

 Now listen up,

 I did not say “ass”

 so this isn’t a vulgar poem

 but we are talking

an ancestral home

(O.K., thirty-eight years

is close enough)

almost totally rehabbed,

hers and his caddies

with matching vanity plates

(Yes, there IS a doctor

in the house.

“What kind?” folks ask.

Who the hell cares

besides other insecure doctors?)


Moving along,

 Social security is their pin money

 And, you’re right,

 their place at the shore

 is in the cheap seats

 but it’s on the water,

 in the woods

 and twenty years paid for.

 The unintelligent and lazy

 are wary of them.

 Still, they are admired

 by reasonable, hardworking individuals

 because they are the validation

 of what is fair and good.

 2.


Indeed, they are

 a fine and generous couple.

 Her weaknesses

 are his strengths

 and, of course,

 vice versa.


For so many years

 they struggled

 through the vagaries

 of her semi-profitable career,

 hung in there

 when the stock market

 went ever so way down

 took, and are taking, care of their

 senile old moms,

 (and ten stray cats)

 as they

 secularly humanistically

 hug trees

 and subscribe to

 Mother Earth.


You bet,

 those sweet bastards

 have a tight hold on

 the glutei maximi

 of our great planet

 and they deserve

 that firm, unrelenting grip.

 Amen, my friends.


Karen R. Springer


BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF KAREN R. SPRINGER


Karen has been writing poetry since the age of ten. She has three, as to date, unpublished anthologies:

 101 Speakings of the Giddy Gypsy, High Noon and My Pistol’s Smoking, and Getting There.

 Much of her energy for the past forty years has been devoted to her career as an administrator in

 several southern New Jersey school districts where she served as superintendent and/ or principal.

 Her degrees include a BA and MAT in Music; as well as an MA and Ed.D in Public School Administration.


After her formal “retirement” from public education, Dr. Springer served as Senior Director of Academic Affairs at thecollege level, an award winning after school/summer administrator in an urban setting; as well as Head Master of a private school. She is currently an education consultant who lives happily with her husband of 41 years. They both enjoy their rustic summer home in the woods at the Jersey shore. She also loves going to the opera; as well as singing it. Karen has recorded a CD of her original song entitled, “Bipolar, Brite, and Blue”.


This feisty lady summarizes herself in the opening quatrain of her poem, “The Good Ol’ Girl”:


I’m just a simple good ol’ girl

 who drinks her coffee black

 Sips scotch as strong as iodine

 and drives a Cadillac.


Email:docsterpoet@comast.net


webpage: www.docsterpoet.com

 

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Killing the Tigers. Poem. RC de Winter
		

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1A SPRING EASTER TWIT AVI






there are not many
like me left in the world
fierce loners
wishing only to be
free to live the life
we are meant for

not long ago
we roamed
unmolested
scorned by some
ignored by most
but free - free!
wandering at will
on the periphery
of homogenization
able to live
by our talents
and our wits

then quietly
the roundup began
the truthtellers
first followed by
the crazy the poor
the sick the old
and all the others
who could not be cogged
into the great machine
built by the
worldwide worshipers
of mammon

my glorious fur
matted and dull
from being confined
in this small space
(prescripted by
bureaucratic souls
in bespoke costumes
paid for in blood
sucked from slaves)
with ragged claws
i tear at invisible bars
that separate me
from my natural terrain

if i were free to find
the empire poachers
who boxed me up
it would be
a fierce quick end
for those abductors



but dawn comes

and with it

great gray tumbrels

to carry us


useless scribblers and daubers

dangerous malcontents

prophets and nonbelievers

away


© 2013 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved


 


RC deWinter is a photographer, digital artist, poet, essayist and singer-songwriter currently living and working in Haddam, Connecticut. She has been shooting photos for over 25 years, using both traditional and digital SLR equipment. Her digital work is created using a variety of software and includes oil paintings, watercolor sketches and drawings. 


Her work has appeared in print, notably in Uno: A Poetry Anthology, Pink Panther Magazine, Arts Creation Magazine, The Sun Magazine,2River View, Poetry Nook, Garden Tripod and The American Muse as well as in many online publications. 


In additionto her personal online portfolios, Ms. deWinter’s art is exhibited on of several internet-based showcases, including The Trillium Gallery, Saatchi Online, ARTbracket, The Art for Cancer Gallery, Copperflame Gallery, b-uncut and Artists, Writers and Photographers in the Raw. ABC has licensed several of her paintings to be used as set decor on the television series Desperate Housewives.


Ms. deWinter is honored to be the first digital artist invited to exhibit her work at an October 2011 solo show the Arts of Tolland Gallery in Tolland, Connecticut.




 




 

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Transitus Veneris. Poem. Audio. Howard D Moore.
		

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Author Notes




Hear it read by the author- Soundcloud


http://snd.sc/L3SJFQ


***


the calculus of certainty






upon a rotational spin,


 a speck in space and time


 such vast circumstances


 reduced to the precision of man-made clocks;


 we see beyond sight


 reckon beyond our reach, measure


 vague ponderables–


 reason is a lever, long enough


 to heft the weight of time


  


 and Venus


  


 so few days apart after so many years in wait


 love and loss, heart filled, heart empty


 when life is a day glowing like the Sun


 from rise to setting , to the spike of light


 wisped away,  last hiss of a candle


 pinched to blackness by the sea.


 When you sit near stars that love us from afar


 when you are Love, when I want you near


 yet you are distant and the end of day


 comes to clear the slate I have been given.


 When you travel across the space of my heart


 and life lifts away, into the space of


 mysteries without solution


 when you are yet Love, and I


 am soon gone; 


  


 and Vee-nus!


  


 a name so old, it brings the face


 of forgotten Gods, when


 ruins were young, when an ancient word


 finds new dark-skinned divinity, those curved stone


 statues blush envy.


 On pavement filled by busy feet in day,


 quicker steps in neon red night and


 Latin beats, rappin’- booty shakin’


 blue jean seams stretched to the point


 of sheeeeer delight!


 When a smile is a deep invitation, ohhh so fine


 in the haze of wine and smoky laughter


 She is Love in store-bought hair, half a skirt


 deep mascara stares and flirts, a stroll


 that melts the Saint within man


 and waist moves that mans-up the boy


 Muse-ic makes the hips roll, waist


 revolve- an orbit of bends and side- to- side  slides


 a blouse that wears only part of her…


 She is a certain kind of Love for few who dare


 for every wish of  tropical air without cares


 oblivion becomes  a thing far, far beyond


 some hours, some sweet sweat,  heavy breaths,


 and wanting…“Venus…Baby…”


  


 “come cross the flo’ with me…”




***


New year 2012


***


Bio


Howard D.Moore resides in Detroit, MI., USA.  He is a writer and government relations  consultant. His professional, educational  background is in law and public policy. He writes poetry, political and social commentary blogs,  literary styles in fiction, poetry, prose,and Eastern forms . He has published two books of prose, and several magazine articles  and anthologies. His current projects include a novel, and a book of poetry expected in January, 2014.




—

 

Nothing moves so fast as your future becoming your past






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An ideal of absent beat. Poem.Sonnet.Laura Lamarca
		

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Donec_Alius_Diei_Cover

When once would I conform to such a state
 as to confine such audible mistakes
 than whence I came admiring this fine art,
 no more a whim–thy splendor to impart.
 And though thou preach in education’s name
 do I become less potent or more sane,
 to pander to thy utmost vantage point…
 nay…I attempt thy scorn to then disjoint.
 For credibility has drawn an air–
 a feel as fine as grandeur, such a flare!
 Shalt thou surpass this passion for defeat
 and shall I sew thy weakness to up-seat.
 Do not, say I, feign worth in tower’s gait
 till thou hast chewed the bile that doth thee sate.



***


About The Author


Laura Lamarca is a 39 year old widowed mother of three teenagers originally hailing from the northern county of Lancashire, but now residing on the South coast of England.





Laura is a professional poet and author of three books of poetry and one Chapbook to date, the latest book was released in December 2011 by GJBPublishing.co.uk titled “Donec Alius Diei”.





Laura Lamarca





Laura is also the creator of 18 globally recognized forms of formal poetry, these include “The Licentia Rhyme Form”, the “La`Tuin” and the L`Arora” forms. She has also recently created 3 more forms…these are the “Jordec Verse”, “La Dan Form” and a collaborated and highly technical form with Poet Jem Farmer titled the “LaJemme”.







In her spare time, she teaches the art of expression through the written word to pupils all over the world at no cost to them. She also writes hugely for charity and actively supports charities that raise awareness for cancer, third world plight, dolphins and gun and knife crime.

 

She has the belief that there is a brighter day for all, given the compassion and commitment of others…one voice can raise a thousand voices, a thousand voices can raise the whole world.  She is of the belief that ultimate truth does not exist, that everything is personal perspective and probable outcome.


***


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The City of Knossos. Haiga. Richard Vallance.
		

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haiga Knossos burnt to the ground


Press to Enlarge:


Linear B, the very earliest Greek script, was used by the Mycenaeans and Minoans from ca. 1450 – 120 BCE for administrative, financial and accounting purposes only, at least so far as we know. No literature as such has survived on the some 6,800 Linear B tablets and fragments.  So Richard’s haiku is in effect the very first poem (or literature for that matter) written in Linear B in 3,500 years.


***


BIO:


Richard Vallanc Santorini Grreece May 2012


Richard Vallance, meta-linguist, ancient Greek & Mycenaean Linear B, home page: Linear B, Knossos & Mycenae, http://linearbknossosmycenae.wordpress.com/


PINTEREST Boards: Mycenaean Linear B: Progressive Grammar & Vocabulary, http://pinterest.com/vallance22/mycenaean-linear-b-progressive-grammar-and-vocabul/ and, Knossos & Mycenae, sister civilizations, http://pinterest.com/vallance22/knossos-mycenae-sister-civilizations/ Also poetry publisher, 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. Friesen Press, Victoria, B.C., Canada. © August 2013. 35 illustrations in B&W. Author & Title Indexes. 257 pp. 315 sonnets & ghazals in English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese & Persian.  http://vallance22.hpage.com/


 


***


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