Morning glories
bravely blooming
on my terrace
despite chill wind,
blossom all day
stubbornly denying
end of summer.
Gary Beck
New York,
Thursday, 18 June 2015
Wednesday, 10 June 2015
Tension
Anger and fear,
Fermenting into a compote of love and lust,
Stress gets the best of us all.
The further we sink,
The further we fall.
After the act,
The words that you cannot take back now become rust.
Forever fact after it all.
The more that we felt,
The more that they saw.
Ron Thatcher
Ron Thatcher lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, in the US.
He can be contacted at aaronthatcherwccc@gmail.com
Fermenting into a compote of love and lust,
Stress gets the best of us all.
The further we sink,
The further we fall.
After the act,
The words that you cannot take back now become rust.
Forever fact after it all.
The more that we felt,
The more that they saw.
Ron Thatcher
Ron Thatcher lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, in the US.
He can be contacted at aaronthatcherwccc@gmail.com
Friday, 5 June 2015
Maybe They’ll Take a Lunch
Jack says God doesn't exist.
No one has ever seen him.
God says Jack exists and
He can’t wait to meet him.
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
No one has ever seen him.
God says Jack exists and
He can’t wait to meet him.
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Sunday, 31 May 2015
Monday, 11 May 2015
In Certain Matters of the Heart
It's a matter of the heart,
the doctor says,
and he can fix it
with catheter ablation.
"It works miracles," he says,
"in certain matters of the heart."
He's been a cardiologist for years.
"Take my word for it," he says.
"You'll be sedated. Won't feel a thing."
No excavation in my chest, either.
Instead, he'll make little holes
in my groin and snake tiny wires
to the surface of my heart
and kill the current that makes
my heart race like a hare
at times and mope
like a turtle other times.
He's never lost a patient.
"You'll be fine," he says.
"Trust me."
Nine out of 10 ablations work.
I'll save hundreds a month, he says,
on medications. No more Multaq.
No more Cardizem. And I'll never
have to wear a heart monitor again.
"Shall we give it a try?" he asks.
"I've got an opening
two weeks from Monday.
It's an outpatient procedure.
You'll go home the same day,
rest for a week and then resume
your usual activities, even bowling.
Do you like bowling? My nurses do.
I prefer woodcarving."
"Okay, Doc," I tell him.
"I'll give it a try, but tell me,
where were you 40 years ago
when the kids were small
and I was young, like a bull,
and a different matter of the heart
dropped me like a bullet.
Are you sure my heart's still ticking?
Where's your stethoscope?
I haven't felt a thing in years."
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
the doctor says,
and he can fix it
with catheter ablation.
"It works miracles," he says,
"in certain matters of the heart."
He's been a cardiologist for years.
"Take my word for it," he says.
"You'll be sedated. Won't feel a thing."
No excavation in my chest, either.
Instead, he'll make little holes
in my groin and snake tiny wires
to the surface of my heart
and kill the current that makes
my heart race like a hare
at times and mope
like a turtle other times.
He's never lost a patient.
"You'll be fine," he says.
"Trust me."
Nine out of 10 ablations work.
I'll save hundreds a month, he says,
on medications. No more Multaq.
No more Cardizem. And I'll never
have to wear a heart monitor again.
"Shall we give it a try?" he asks.
"I've got an opening
two weeks from Monday.
It's an outpatient procedure.
You'll go home the same day,
rest for a week and then resume
your usual activities, even bowling.
Do you like bowling? My nurses do.
I prefer woodcarving."
"Okay, Doc," I tell him.
"I'll give it a try, but tell me,
where were you 40 years ago
when the kids were small
and I was young, like a bull,
and a different matter of the heart
dropped me like a bullet.
Are you sure my heart's still ticking?
Where's your stethoscope?
I haven't felt a thing in years."
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, USA and has had poems published Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Saturday, 9 May 2015
Blessed Blackbird
in all earnest honesty,
the blackbird flitters over my roof
it has built nests on the outskirts
of my chimney, bathing in plumes
of silken ash and clouds that long to taste the earth;
it mocks me with glinting eyes
with vast wings and hollow lungs,
the blackberd perches on cacti,
oblivious of the sting of the pricks,
the scorn of the thorns
in the presence of a storm,
it defies all social norm
and rests its weary head
on the lush bed of the purple-blooded
I stuck my arm out the window,
vulnerable and defenseless
in hardly any second,
I felt its harsh claws
plunge into my paltry skin
I remained a statue,
a human scarecrow
for the next five days.
Patricia P.
the blackbird flitters over my roof
it has built nests on the outskirts
of my chimney, bathing in plumes
of silken ash and clouds that long to taste the earth;
it mocks me with glinting eyes
with vast wings and hollow lungs,
the blackberd perches on cacti,
oblivious of the sting of the pricks,
the scorn of the thorns
in the presence of a storm,
it defies all social norm
and rests its weary head
on the lush bed of the purple-blooded
I stuck my arm out the window,
vulnerable and defenseless
in hardly any second,
I felt its harsh claws
plunge into my paltry skin
I remained a statue,
a human scarecrow
for the next five days.
Manila, Philippines
Monday, 20 April 2015
Viracocha
Viracocha
god of sun & storm
creator of all things
wearing a sun crown
thunderbolts for hands
tears streaming from black eyes
hoarding the substance
of universe & civilization
commanding sun to move across sky
offering an intimate measure of time
Ashley Parker Owens,
Richmond, KY, USA
parker.owens@gmail.com
god of sun & storm
creator of all things
wearing a sun crown
thunderbolts for hands
tears streaming from black eyes
hoarding the substance
of universe & civilization
commanding sun to move across sky
offering an intimate measure of time
Ashley Parker Owens,
Richmond, KY, USA
parker.owens@gmail.com
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