Let the Sun set on me.Poem. Bhuwan Thapaliya.

 

Virgin dry is my throat
and anaemic the veins

that supply my semen
to your embryo.

I cannot ejaculate
a lover’s warmth in your womb

nor can I grab your breast
as they grasp the deity’s forehead.

The lips of the overhead sky bulb
are seeping the blood out of me,

and my tongue
is parched and lonely.

Let the sun
set on me.

Let its crimson sweat of ferocity
spill all over me.

My heart is ready
for the chill of the darkness.

I put my best shirt on
and wait for a bride of the light.

Let the darkness
rise from me,

the darkness that conceals
the bruises of the light.

 
 
 

Bhuwan Thapaliya works as an economist, and is the author of four poetry collections. Thapaliya’s books include the recently released Safa Tempo: Poems New and Selected (Nirala Publication, New Delhi), and Our Nepal, Our Pride (Cyberwit.net). Poetry by Thapaliya has been included in The New Pleiades Anthology of Poetry and Tonight: An Anthology of World Love Poetry, as well as in literary journals such as Urhalpool, MahMag, Kritya, FOLLY, The Vallance Review, Nuvein Magazine, Foundling Review, Poetry Life and Times, Poets Against the War, Voices in Wartime, Taj Mahal Review, and more.

***
Bhuwanthapaliya picture
Author
Our Nepal, Our Pride
http://www.amazon.com/Our-Nepal-Pride-Bhuwan-Thapaliya/dp/8182531152

***

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A Hard Rain. Poem. Candice James

A hard rain pelts down
Graying the sky to charcoal
The Quay is deserted,
And somehow out of key.

I stand at the guard rail,
Collar pulled tight,
Staring at the cold river.
The wind whirls and swirls
Inviting the river into its frenzy.
The river resists, then slowly submits.
Small ripples at first
Cresting to waves;
Synchronicity somehow present
In this simple chaos.

A young girl
In a pink fleece Parka
And well worn Mukluks
Passes by;
Her eyes as vague
As fading winter sparks

The day dissolves

Night chews on the last remnants
Of a non-descript twilight.
Appetite sated,
She licks her lips
And the thunder rolls
In the bruised atmosphere
Of a hard, hard rain

 

 
2 Poets Laureate — New Westminster Poet Laureate Candice James and Canadian Parliamentary Poet Laureate Fred Wah at Royal City Literary Arts Society Setp 22, 2013 membership drive
Candice James
***

Poet Laureate, New Westminster, BC

President, Royal City Literary Arts

Honorary Professor International Arts Acadamy, Greece

Board Advisor, Interantional Muse, India

Board Advisor, Federation of British Columbia Writers

Candice James is Poet Laureate of New Westminster, B.C. and President of Royal City Literary Arts Society. She is a poet, musician, songwriter and author of six poetry books A Split In The Water (Fiddlehead 1979);Inner Heart―A Journey; (2010), Bridges and Clouds (2011); Midnight Embers–A Book of Sonnets (2012); Shorelines-A Book of Villanelles (2013); and Ekphrasticism (2014).   Websites: http://saddlestone.shawwebspace.ca   and  www.candicejames.com

 

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Downtown Waco. Midnight. Heidegger Looks at the Moon. Poem. Sonnet. R.W.Haynes

 

The Bush Library really should be here,

For each dead city needs a laugh or two,

A little something so the skeletons can jeer

On nights like this when there’s little to do

And nothing to haunt but the haunting lack of hope

Where words are born to sputter anxiously

Toward brief life in some half-bungled trope

Irrecoverable etymologically.

Is there another cyclone on its way

To re-mix this desperation here?

To make words and deeds mutually obey

A dim correspondence–never more clear

Than the misshapen moon cruising so high

Over the Brazos in the hopeless Waco sky?

***

On the Savannah River 2013

***

R. W. Haynes has taught literature at Texas A&M International University since 1992.  His recent interests include the early British sonnet, and he is completing a second book on the Texas playwright and screenwriter Horton Foote (1916-2009).  In his poetry, Haynes seeks to celebrate life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness without sounding any more dissonant notes than he has to.  In fiction, he works toward grasping that part of the past which made its mark on his generation.  He enjoys teaching drama, especially the Greeks, Ibsen, and Shakespeare, and he devoutly hopes for a stunning literary Renaissance in South Texas.

***

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That’s Why I Write. Poem. Kwame Write Aidoo.

‘That’s why I write’

My ink flies far when I Orville write..
[That’s why I write]
It’s ideal to open up and let the brains breathe right..
[That’s why I write]

Oprah talks,  Brad Pitt acts, I write!

Weird would the world be without writers..
Like Martin’s assassination story without snipers.
What? No Bible revelations?
No Readers’ digests?
No Quran quotes?
No Daily graphics?
No music magazines?
not even Kama sutra notes?
[That’s why I write]

I don’t tittle-tattle, I’d rather scribble-scrabble
Gossips are short-lived so let my pencil prattle
Poetry paints the state of affairs, affairs of the state
So why keep a glutton crayon by a starving slate?
[That’s why I write]

Born was I the same year noble Soyinka took Nobel award
My manger must have been brushed by his white hair wand..
Toddling, I watched Efua Sutherland weave ‘Anansesem’ with her palm,
Pondering why Kwaku Ananse hid a calabash of the whole world wisdom.
[That’s why I write]

But trifling is the written when never read..
Could we have the Passover without the bread?
So read Shakespeare’s or Blakes’s! Atukwei’s Ama’s
If you’ld read none, inspire…

…………………………………………………….

Kwame11

Kwame’s love for wordplay has earned him online publications, awards from the Scrabble Association of Ghana and a couple of nicknames including Write. He is a nominee for the International Best Amateur Poet by World Poetry Organisation, a biochemist working as a health & safety consultant who believes that freelance writing, spoken word and rap are not only rich arts but tools for educating and inspiring people. Kwame Write founded Inkfluent which produced Vocal Portraits; a spoken word compilation that brought together 15 artists from 3 continents: Africa, America and Europe. When he’s not with the pen, he’s most likely playing beach soccer or making new friends over a bowl of fufu and palm wine. You can visit him at http://kwamewrite.blogspot.com/ and https://soundcloud.com/kwame-write-1

LINKS:
Twitter: @kwamewrite
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/aidookwamecharles

***

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MY HEART IS AS… (2002).Poem. Robin Marchesi

 

My heart
Is as
The old
West pier
In Brighton.
It has been stripped down,
To bear minimum,
The structure crumbles,
Winds, Rains and Tides,
Have wrecked
Once noble
Steel girders.
The Penny arcades,
Little lights and joy rides,
Have passed into history.
Only the starlings, black clouds,
At sunset,
Visit.

My heart
Is as
The old
West Pier
In Brighton.
Shrouded in darkness,
Awaiting collapse,
It is old enough,
To remember
The little boy,
Who once played,
When the Pier
Lived,
And both made dreams,
That are now,
The Property
Of Ghosts…
 
 
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.”
 
 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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The Insomniac’s Prayer. Poem. Video. Sara L. Russell.2000

 

The ripening berries
Summer’s last blaze
when her breath is of jasmine
and phlox is her sigh
Let me dream then,
of summer
and float through the haze
peaceful breath
bed of poppies
ceiling of blue sky


Let me float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
Let me drift
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
with the murmur of water
the soft hum of bees
in a garden 
in peace
in sleep 
in a dream


Send me love’s angels
to watch at my bed
golden of voice
and silver of wing;
two at the far corners
two at my head
with my dreams
all of heaven
when softly
they sing


Send me a light 
that can never grow dim
love, like a candle
to lighten my heart
empty my mind
of each worry and whim
and the ghosts 
of nights demons
that tear me apart


Till I float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
and drift 
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
love make me wise
through life’s cruelties
sleep dry my eyes
make me still
let me dream.

***

AKA @pinkyandrexa Poet, Artist, Cartoonist, Goth, Time Traveller. Friend of cats everywhere. Former Editor of Poetry Life & Times. Founder of http://thevideopoets.ning.com/ … 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 and the online  Ning network The Video Poets. 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.

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Eternity Shivers with a Coldness Translated from José Antonio Pamies’ “Toda la eternidad tiembla de frío” by Robin Ouzman Hislop

  

Toda la eternidad tiembla de frío,

es un plan muerto antes de nacer,

porque la cáscara nutre el vacío

ahondando en el alma de las cosas.

*

Yo sé que tú no crees en lo baldío

de la flor siniestra sobre el café,

la tarde es para ti como un estío

abrasado de calor contra las rosas.

*

Traerá Mayo su trasnochado azul,

contemplarás bajo el color nevado

tallos ocres de cuando fuiste oro.

*

Raíz negra rugiendo en el baúl,

solar sin tregua, sexo desmayado

donde el calor despierta sueños de otro

*

José Antonio Pamies (España)

 *

Eternity shivers with a coldness

from a plan dead before it is born

because the rind which feeds the emptiness

deepens in concerns of the soul its form.

*

But you dont believe in the sinister

wasteland of this coffees wild flowers,

evening for you is seen as a summer,

a scorching heat burning against roses.

*

May will yet come in her outmoded blue,

you will watch beneath a snowy colour

before when you were gold, stems of ochre.

*

Black roots twisted in the wooden trunk scream

on a relentless ground of sex fainting

where the heat awakens anothers dream.

*

Translated from José Antonio PamiesToda la    eternidad tiembla de frío by Robin  Ouzman Hislop

 

jose pamies

José Antonio Pamies (Alicante, 1981) Finalista del III Premio internacional de poesía 
Andrés Salom 2005 y del II Premio de la editorial poesia Eres Tu 2010 con Las Ruinas 
de la Aurora. Ha publicado Campos de hielo (Babilonia, Pliegos de la palabra nº 3, 2012) 
y Afonías (finalista del XXVI Premio Gerardo Diego de Poesía), así como poemas en revistas 
y numerosas antologías. Reside en Madrid, donde realiza estudia Teoría de la Literatura y 
Literatura Comparada.


 José Antonio Pamies (Alicante, 1981) His early poetry collection Las Ruinas de la Aurora was a runner up at the III Andres Salom International Poetry Award in 2005 and the II poesia Eres Tu Publisher Award in 2010. He has published Campos de hielo (Babilonia, Pliegos de la palabra nº 3) and Afonías a runner up at the XXVI Gerardo Diego Poetry Award. He currently lives in Madrid, pursuing studies in Theory of Literature and Comparative Literature.

 

This sonnet together with its translation appeared in The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes: Exciting new sonnet anthology edited by Richard Vallance now available on Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1lIL0jF BN ID: 2940148833628 Publisher: FriesenPress Publication date: 11/20/2013 Sold by: Barnes & Noble

 

WIN_20140415_213447

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop (UK) Co-editor of the 12 year running on line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life and Times. (See its Wikipedia entry at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetry_Life_and_Times). He has made many appearances over the last years in the quarterly journals Canadian Zen Haiku, including In the Spotlight Winter 2010 & Sonnetto Poesia. Previously published in international magazines, recent publications include Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review, Appalachian University N Carolina, Post Hoc installed at Bank Street Arts Centre, Sheffield (UK), Uroborus Journal, 2011-2012 (Sheffield, UK), The Poetic Bond II & 111, available at http://www.thepoeticbond.com and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes a recently published Anthology of Sonnets: http://bit.ly/1lIL0jF. He has recently completed a volume of poetry, The World at Large, for future publication. He is currently resident in Spain engaged in poetry translation projects.robin@artvilla.com and you can also visit Face Book site at www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Far Deeper than a Soul Starves.Richard Lloyd Cederberg.Haiku/Tanka Poem

 Far deeper than a soul starves

***

Being positioned

Between vitality and

The grays of shadows;

This freely expressed life of

Extraordinary colors

*

Creates full rainbows

With words and desert echoes;

Revealing her path

*

As an art scholar,

Medieval literature;

One LIVING sculpture

Lamenting loves complexness;

A dragonfly ASCENDING,

 *

Rediscovering

The innocence of dreaming,

Not fully knowing

*

 Her life will evince

The fervent hopefulness’s

 Of one seeking TRUTH

 *

DRAGONFLY rises,

In humbleness of spirit,

(Voyaging beyond)

 Life’s many unrequited

 Gifts given from two scarred hands

 *

 Understanding now

 Dying as a conversion;

 Circling obstacles

 Akin to daily regrets;

 A cathartic chrysalis

 *

 Waiting to be bound

 To ONE who emancipates

 The LIFE she foresees;

 Translucent of an echo;

 Far deeper than a soul starves,

 *

 Chrystus beckons

As an artificial church decays

 

 ***

www.richardlloydcederberg.com

www.authorsden.com/richardlloydcederberg 

***

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