I've got a claw to
practice scratching on
my cave wall here.
It just grew in last year.
Let me tell you the story
of the shoeless man just
out of prison who asked me
for some light.
Better yet, let me tell you
about my den, where I
hide from the crash
of business sounds, leading
my secret little poet life.
Can't put a poem on a memo.
They would send you packing,
but still I find home
in a few sentences strung
together in a Word document.
I can't change or stop
the world, but I might at
least create a shelter
with some sound.
Alan Inman
New York, NY
US
Saturday, 3 June 2017
Thursday, 4 May 2017
Hinky
It's the feeling of a look
that lasts too long,
the sensation of realizing
the kiss will stick around,
the walk should not have
been taken.
Of reading the words aloud
knowing they came out
wrong, of a tearful ride
down the highway you can't
forget, feeling a painful
change in the atmosphere.
Knowing reconciliation must
be made, but refusing for
years to make it.
Camille Clark
Atlanta, Georgia
US
that lasts too long,
the sensation of realizing
the kiss will stick around,
the walk should not have
been taken.
Of reading the words aloud
knowing they came out
wrong, of a tearful ride
down the highway you can't
forget, feeling a painful
change in the atmosphere.
Knowing reconciliation must
be made, but refusing for
years to make it.
Camille Clark
Atlanta, Georgia
US
Monday, 1 May 2017
Sister
done with the ugly
ways treated
resolving
to let you go
I remember
dim flickers
now imagining
the ways
your face contorted
manipulator be gone
from not
only my presence
but inside me
as well
this is the moment
where I shake dirt
free from my shoes
all the dirt
of worry, politics,
blame
saying goodbye
to the polite
way life used
to be so I can
now live.
Tempest Brew,
Indianapolis, IL
United States
ways treated
resolving
to let you go
I remember
dim flickers
now imagining
the ways
your face contorted
manipulator be gone
from not
only my presence
but inside me
as well
this is the moment
where I shake dirt
free from my shoes
all the dirt
of worry, politics,
blame
saying goodbye
to the polite
way life used
to be so I can
now live.
Tempest Brew,
Indianapolis, IL
United States
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
Lamentations of Judas
I loved you
though silver and gold caressed
my senses, eve of blood casting
forth a sweet lust for night.
I loved you
though avaricious pride scorched
my loyalty, my adoration, all the
while screeching for humiliation.
I loved you
though I willingly gave you to the
butchers, satisfying their demons and
my own, innocence within corruption.
I loved you
though I led them to you within the
shadows, and kissed your cheek, a
promise of deceitful love and praise.
I loved you.
I know I loved you
because of the damnation I cursed myself to,
of the cries distorting my grandeur as I
saw your body, lifeless and slain, gazing at
me with emotionless eyes, gothic sighs
escaping your frozen heart.
Even now, I still love you
as I count the seconds
while hanging from the noose.
Robin Goodfellow,
Denton, USA.
though silver and gold caressed
my senses, eve of blood casting
forth a sweet lust for night.
I loved you
though avaricious pride scorched
my loyalty, my adoration, all the
while screeching for humiliation.
I loved you
though I willingly gave you to the
butchers, satisfying their demons and
my own, innocence within corruption.
I loved you
though I led them to you within the
shadows, and kissed your cheek, a
promise of deceitful love and praise.
I loved you.
I know I loved you
because of the damnation I cursed myself to,
of the cries distorting my grandeur as I
saw your body, lifeless and slain, gazing at
me with emotionless eyes, gothic sighs
escaping your frozen heart.
Even now, I still love you
as I count the seconds
while hanging from the noose.
Robin Goodfellow,
Denton, USA.
Robin Goodfellow has had poems published in the online magazine Nature Writing, as well as the Healing Poetry and the Haiku Journal. She enjoys listening to Owl City and rewriting classic fairytales.
Monday, 13 March 2017
A St. Patrick’s Day Memory
Some folks have a problem with authority,
legitimate and otherwise, and I have spent
a lifetime festering in that group.
An event in youth convinced me that
big people are no different than little people
despite their titles and the homage paid them.
The event that changed me was in third grade
when a nun asked me if I was cousin to a cardinal
in the Catholic Church. She had heard my father,
an immigrant blue collar worker, was first cousin
to Cardinal Stritch. Little as I was I had no idea but
I said I’d ask my father and I did that night at supper.
He kept eating his cabbage and potatoes
then finally said we were cousins to the cardinal
whose people also took a boat from Ireland to America.
So I blinked and said to him, “Pa, Sister wants to know
why don’t we call Cardinal Stritch and tell him we’re here.”
Looking up from his cabbage and potatoes,
my father took a sip of tea, shot a laser in my eye,
sniffed a bit and said, “Ask the good sister
why the good cardinal doesn’t call us.”
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, US and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
legitimate and otherwise, and I have spent
a lifetime festering in that group.
An event in youth convinced me that
big people are no different than little people
despite their titles and the homage paid them.
The event that changed me was in third grade
when a nun asked me if I was cousin to a cardinal
in the Catholic Church. She had heard my father,
an immigrant blue collar worker, was first cousin
to Cardinal Stritch. Little as I was I had no idea but
I said I’d ask my father and I did that night at supper.
He kept eating his cabbage and potatoes
then finally said we were cousins to the cardinal
whose people also took a boat from Ireland to America.
So I blinked and said to him, “Pa, Sister wants to know
why don’t we call Cardinal Stritch and tell him we’re here.”
Looking up from his cabbage and potatoes,
my father took a sip of tea, shot a laser in my eye,
sniffed a bit and said, “Ask the good sister
why the good cardinal doesn’t call us.”
Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, US and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Wednesday, 1 March 2017
Things
Things they add meaning
to this menagerie
answers to what lies in the abyss
forget cheap talk about the rain
and exit/entry strategies
what does it matter?
when Im surrounded by these things
Time ceases
to have meaning
Bright lights and sweet spots
forget cheap talk about hunger
and black dogs
I can out run them all
when Im surrounded by all these
wondrous things
Contact is overrated
Art is for people lost in a void
Heroes in sweatpants
living the dream
forget about shelter and love
fairytales are the new agenda
as I'm surrounded by these things.
Ashley
Leamington Spa, UK
ashleygriffiths@hotmail.com
to this menagerie
answers to what lies in the abyss
forget cheap talk about the rain
and exit/entry strategies
what does it matter?
when Im surrounded by these things
Time ceases
to have meaning
Bright lights and sweet spots
forget cheap talk about hunger
and black dogs
I can out run them all
when Im surrounded by all these
wondrous things
Contact is overrated
Art is for people lost in a void
Heroes in sweatpants
living the dream
forget about shelter and love
fairytales are the new agenda
as I'm surrounded by these things.
Ashley
Leamington Spa, UK
ashleygriffiths@hotmail.com
Tuesday, 28 February 2017
Abandonment
Upon hearing the once
eminent author had
abandoned all hope
of finishing his novel
I felt sympathy for the poor
volume, half-done, limping
to a nearby shelf to find
the climb too stressful
Gone the simple words
that do not try to impress,
unknown the future
of the much-loved main
character.
JD DeHart
Tennessee,
US
eminent author had
abandoned all hope
of finishing his novel
I felt sympathy for the poor
volume, half-done, limping
to a nearby shelf to find
the climb too stressful
Gone the simple words
that do not try to impress,
unknown the future
of the much-loved main
character.
JD DeHart
Tennessee,
US
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