• Most Topular Stories

  • Love Song: I and Thou By Alan Dugan

    Poem of the Day
    Poetry Foundation
    30 Jul 2014 | 11:00 pm
    By Alan Dugan
  • Oakland author awarded National Medal of Arts

    Poetry News
    31 Jul 2014 | 8:02 pm
    Maxine Hong Kingston writes in her studio at her bright Frank Lloyd Wright-style home in the Oakland hills.
  • Reena Berroa - Dear God

    IndieFeed: Performance Poetry
    30 Jul 2014 | 12:00 am
    Reena Berroa on IndieFeed Performance Poetry.  Show number 1368.
  • NinaAlvarez.net Listed in Top 100 Inspiring Sites for Poets

    Poem of the Day
    Nina Alvarez
    15 Jul 2014 | 11:46 am
    A collection of inspiring sites for poets and poetry has been published, and Poem of the Day is acknowledged on the list: http://mastersinenglish.org/poetry/ It’s an incredible honor. Many thanks, Master in English! (And many thanks to my actual masters in English. I’m still paying for you, so… keep it up.)Filed under: words
  • she steps to conquer

    Wade on Birmingham » Daily Haiku
    Wade Kwon
    30 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    Her pace relaxes as her hips sync to the beats of the sultry night. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
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    Poem of the Day

  • NinaAlvarez.net Listed in Top 100 Inspiring Sites for Poets

    Nina Alvarez
    15 Jul 2014 | 11:46 am
    A collection of inspiring sites for poets and poetry has been published, and Poem of the Day is acknowledged on the list: http://mastersinenglish.org/poetry/ It’s an incredible honor. Many thanks, Master in English! (And many thanks to my actual masters in English. I’m still paying for you, so… keep it up.)Filed under: words
  • Poem of the Day: Be a Sparrow

    Nina Alvarez
    13 May 2014 | 2:04 pm
    When we are soft – when the world is underneath us; when we are lost with longing Be a sparrow. You knew before you knew all else that this was artifice – and you searched for self-instruction. You learned to search for what was yours beyond modesty and immodesty. Be that person again – with a broken wing – if there was ever truth in you, find it now. Be true to that which is best in you, and rides during the Spring, and mounts in its own language. Be true to that which is highest born in you. Let it all be alive in the alchemy. Be choice. Be free and free, sister, in what was not…
  • Poem of the Day: I Thank You God For Most This Amazing

    Nina Alvarez
    20 Apr 2014 | 8:41 pm
    i thank You God for most this amazing day:for leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any–lifted from the no of allnothing–human merely being doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened) — e.e. cummings  …
  • Top 10 Poems of 2013

    Nina Alvarez
    30 Dec 2013 | 8:56 am
    And here it is. For the 6th year in a row, the TOP 10 POEMS of the year at NinaAlvarez.net. Thanks for being here. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Vive le Poetry! 1. Ithaca 2. I Walked a Mile with Pleasure 3. The Lost Son 4. Ithaca (Video) 5. from Last Poems 6. What You Should Know to be a Poet 7. The Unicorn 8. The Serpent 9. Deathless Aphrodite of the Spangled Mind 10. Love Me Like You Never Loved Before   Thanks for nearly seven years of enjoying poetry together here at NinaAlvarez.net. I am a professionally produced playwright, award-winning poet,…
  • Poem of the Day: To You

    Nina Alvarez
    27 Dec 2013 | 1:11 pm
    Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams, I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands, Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you, Your true soul and body appear before me, They stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce, shops, work, farms, clothes, the house, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying. Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear, I have loved many women and men, but I love…
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    Wade on Birmingham » Daily Haiku

  • she steps to conquer

    Wade Kwon
    30 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    Her pace relaxes as her hips sync to the beats of the sultry night. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • board of misdirectors

    Wade Kwon
    29 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    The cause became a nuisance. Service became an internal matter. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • sterile railways

    Wade Kwon
    28 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    So much for haggard vagabonds looking to hop a train to nowhere. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • homo simpletons

    Wade Kwon
    27 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    In case we are a genetic dead end, let us devolve with honor. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • their own private fairway

    Wade Kwon
    26 Jul 2014 | 10:00 pm
    They chased each other for half an hour in spin class, then closed the deal. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
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    GotPoetry.com News

  • 100 of the best as Jimmy Drekore's bush poetry is published

    31 Jul 2014 | 12:49 am
    THE poetry of Jimmy Drekore will be familiar to the readers of PNG Attitude, the annual Crocodile Prize Anthology and the Simbu Children Foundation newsletters.Link!
  • Poet statue for Mithila tourism

    31 Jul 2014 | 12:47 am
    A trust has commissioned a 131ft statue of Maithili poet Vidyapati in Madhubani district to develop the region as a popular tourist spot. Vidyapati Jagaran Trust, the organisation, would develop Vidyapati Dham at Bisfi block, the poet’s birthplace around 210km northeast of Patna. Construction of the statue at the Vidyapati Dham will start in October after the foundation stone is laid following Durga Puja. Link!
  • Roundhouse Poetry Slam Returns as Part of Summer Sessions Today

    31 Jul 2014 | 12:47 am
    The annual Roundhouse Poetry Slam returns for 2014, as part of Summer Sessions, offering young artists aged 16-25 from across the UK the chance to compete for the title of Roundhouse Poetry Slam Champion.Link!
  • The Refugee-Poets of a Forgotten War

    30 Jul 2014 | 9:47 pm
    With the downing of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 over Ukraine and renewed hostilities in Gaza, the nearly four-year-old Syrian Civil War has once again slipped from our collective consciousness. But mapping a consciousness of that war is precisely what injects the poetry of Aref Akrez and Ammar Tabbab with immediacy.Link!
  • Castle Hill RSL Sub-branch's Anzac centenary poetry competition

    30 Jul 2014 | 9:45 pm
    THE Castle Hill RSL Club Sub-branch is calling for entries for its poetry competition, titled Spirit of Anzac. The competition has been organised in the lead-up to Anzac Day next year — the 100th anniversary of the landing at Gallipoli.Link!
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    Poetry of Life

  • Lost at Sea

    Praveen Kumar
    15 Jul 2014 | 12:22 am
    as the sun sets down on the horizon, i sit back up, trying to get a glimpse, of the journey ahead, in this vast, lifeless world! I am like a sailor, lost at sea, riding wave after wave of what the sea could throw at me, struggling to remain sane yet fighting hard to stay […]
  • Fear of Life

    Praveen Kumar
    10 Jun 2014 | 5:35 am
    I stare at the blank page, trying to write the thousand and one thoughts running through my mind; as i think to myself, about all that was, all that is and all that will be; fear takes over my senses, clouding my thoughts, fear of the unknown, fear of life; sometimes i want to run […]
  • You and Me

    Praveen Kumar
    12 Feb 2014 | 11:28 pm
    Happy Valentine’s Day! This poem is written for her. Just you and me, hand in hand overlooking the gentle waves, with the bright moon and stars in full display, we stand hand in hand; as the night crawls on, i remember the day when you swept me off my feet, into the canyons of love […]
  • New Year, New Beginnings?

    Praveen Kumar
    2 Jan 2014 | 12:00 am
    Its a brand new year for a brand new beginning, but as i rejoice, i find myself drawn into a deep, dark corner, far away from the happiness and joy that graces the occasion. A brand new beginning with new fears and new tears, a faceless enemy waiting for the one mistake, waiting and watching […]
  • Somewhere I Belong?

    Praveen Kumar
    8 Oct 2013 | 6:15 am
    lonely, confused and sad, it feels as if i was just a shadow of the day, in light i exist and in darkness, i am gone! what am i searching for? when i have nothing else to search for! surrounded by all sides, i try my best to survive, but i have only 2 hands! […]
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    Poems and Poetics

  • Armand Schwerner: Hall of Mirrors, an Auto-Dialogue, with accompanying tribute

    Jerome Rothenberg
    31 Jul 2014 | 5:56 am
    [The following dialogue or auto-conversation was salvaged from Schwerner’s notebooks by Mark Weiss & previously unpublished. The most recent version of The Tablets, mentioned throughout the tribute that follows, was published by the National Poetry Foundation, Orono, Maine, in 1999 – a necessary modern/postmodern work & still readily available.]December 14, 1991S.A.: You mirror me.A.S.: You humor me.S.A.: Inside this glass case there's an ancient Chinese mirror. I can only see the back of it, which is well worth seeing. On the back is the world mountain, rough terrain, terraces…
  • Avrom Sutzkever: “Green Aquarium,” a poem newly translated from Yiddish by Zackary Sholem Berger

    Jerome Rothenberg
    27 Jul 2014 | 5:43 am
    (l. to r.): Avrom Sutzkever, Abba Kover and Gershon Abramowicz in the Vilna Ghetto, 1942[The post-Holocaust fate of Yiddish writing is something that’s troubled my mind since the murders of the last century appeared to have decimated both language & culture.  Avrom Sutzkever, who fought as a partisan during the years of the khurbn, was one of the outstanding survivors with many kudos & honors in his later years, but the secular mysticism & near surrealism/realism of some of his work wasn’t easy to grasp as he came over to us largely in that more ethnic context & in a…
  • Will Alexander: from “The Ganges,” excerpt with glossary

    Jerome Rothenberg
    23 Jul 2014 | 5:59 am
     The following is an excerpt from a long poem, “The Ganges,” which runs around a hundred pages & is itself a third of a giant book entitled The Combustion Cycle. The book contains two other poems, “Concerning The Henbane Bird,” & “On Solar Physiology,” the former in the voice of a hummingbird, the Andean Hillstar, &  the latter spoken in the voice of an Angolan shaman. As for “The Ganges,” Alexander tells us, "it pours from the voice of an untouchable."               Of Alexander…
  • Homero Aridjis: [On Riding the Beast]

    Jerome Rothenberg
    19 Jul 2014 | 5:53 am
    The search for asylum winds through Mexico[note. Aridjis of course is a major Mexican poet & environmental activist, & his close account of the border refugee crisis calls further attention to the longer & more difficult part of the journey that the refugees have undertaken.   It seems to me important to see what has been happening in a context other than its relation to domestic United Statespolitics or its coverage by the entertainment news media that so much dominates our political & social thinking & reporting.  Homero’s account appeared first in The…
  • Peter Quartermain: “Incompletable Text,” a view of Jerome Rothenberg’s Eye of Witness (Part Two)

    Jerome Rothenberg
    15 Jul 2014 | 6:13 am
    [Part One of the Quartermain essay can be found hereon Poems and Poetics.  His complete view of Eye of Witness will appear early in 2015 in the twentieth issue of Lou Rowan’s Golden Handcuff’s Review, a major repository of poetry & poetics moving from one century & millennium to another.]There is indeed a politics in this, the politics of a “work intended – above all – to question and disrupt the power of dominant European discourse” (169); it underlies the whole of Eye of Witness and is a well-spring, and the rhetoric, embodying as it does Rothenberg’s persistent…
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    Wild Horses Of Fire

  • Class

    Thom Donovan
    31 Jul 2014 | 3:04 am
    No one talks about class in poetryBut tonight I am thinking about these sistersHow they invented a language when they were abandoned by the worldNo one talks about class in poetryBecause it is not convenient to talk about class in poetryHow fucking sad it was when we learned the sisters were separated so that they would learn English more easilyTwo years ago it was reported that they were working at McDonalds, still 'developmentally disabled'But we all know that disability is social and so why shouldn't we consider being poor a disability, perhaps the first form of disability?These girls seem…
  • True Black II (@ Fanzine)

    Thom Donovan
    30 Jul 2014 | 7:14 am
    Many thanks to Cassandra Troyan, summer poetry editor at Fanzine, for posting "True Black II," which will be featured in a new book of poems later this fall, Withdrawn.I'm thrilled to be among a series that includes Anna Vitale, Anne Boyer, and more to come!
  • The Gift of Death

    Thom Donovan
    7 Jul 2014 | 7:23 am
    It's the opening. We're basking in language itself. The silence of my friend. My love. The one beyond words in her silence.Eileen MylesLucy, when you waited until we got to the vet’s office to bleed-out on me, and when I thought that your blood was piss or shit pooling in my flip-flop, this was so typical of you, you never whimpered until that last day, your “one bad day” the vet kept repeating in hopes of consoling meIn this totally unsanitary way all I wanted was to mix your blood with mine, keep feeling its warmth on my foot and not wash it off, the memories of the dead being what…
  • Robert Kocik's A Book of Protections & AUSKO (gain)

    Thom Donovan
    6 Jul 2014 | 4:41 am
    In celebration of Ubiquitous Dividend at this year's River to River Festival (sponsored by the Lower Manhattan Cultural Counsel and Poets House) ON has produced a companion volume to Robert Kocik's SUPPLE SCIENCE. A Book of Protections includes reproductions of drawings Kocik composed in fall 2013, for the pre-order of SUPPLE SCIENCE. For more information about Ubiquitous Dividend go here and here. We are also posting a PDF of one of Kocik's earliest works, AUKSO (gain), published by Robert Fitterman's Object magazine in 1995, including an afterword by Stacy Doris. AUKSO…
  • It's night in San Francisco but it's Sunny in Oakland

    Thom Donovan
    6 Jul 2014 | 4:11 am
    Preorder hereWhat would it mean to take a snapshot of a large and various literary milieu after a moment of intense activism and struggle? It’s night in San Francisco but it’s sunny in Oakland includes a fair amount of post/Occupy poems, but also writings which channel the historical exigencies of Bay Area poetics—from SF Renaissance, through Beat, New Narrative, Lang Po, and less identifiable movements and genealogies. Many of these poems remind us that we are in a time after ‘the event’ in which life inevitably goes on, and more reflective modalities…
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    A window Within Myself

  • ~Adnan~

    7 Jul 2014 | 3:25 am
    Have you ever been handed over a baby and was given a task to take care of it at young age. Well 20 for me was young age and there I was an assistant teacher in Al Noor Centre for children with Disability. There he was glittering eyes angelic face , tiny body with of weight of a leaf. So tiny in size, his body age was 1 year child. He was 7 years old. That is Adnan when he arrived the first time at school a child with cerebral palsy. He was born with a physical disability, all I knew back then Adnan has physical disability that you could not even put him in a wheelchair. His bone were so…
  • Clenched

    23 Jun 2014 | 3:13 am
    The pain is tangledClenched so tightReleasing is a dream This pain resists Dwelling within pettinessYet to unlet go Takes hands of your soul To safely untie What once has been forgottenSimple Happiness
  • When Literature Heals: Nasra Al Adawi’s

    23 Jun 2014 | 3:03 am
    Book Review When Literature Heals: Nasra Al Adawi’s Brave Faces Nasra Al Adawi, Brave Faces: The Daring Stand Against Cancer. Muscat: Oman Printers, 2007. Unlike many writers who define literary creativity as a mere outlet for détente and self-indulgence, or perhaps an escape from the self and its unbearable limitations and frustrations, Nasra Al Adawi, an emerging poet from the Sultanate of Oman, can be confidently ranked among engaged writers who use their literary talent as a vehicle for altruistic expression and as an effective inspirational conduit for reaching out to those who need…
  • Broken ..

    2 Apr 2014 | 12:40 pm
    You found meA broken wall But I'm more than that I'm a shattered heart Still the hands thats pulls me downDedicated in demolishing my wallBut I'm still untouched As my soul is higher than that 
  • Amidst of soul breath

    30 Mar 2014 | 11:57 am
    silence calling silence
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    Sad Poems

  • Empty Reservoirs

    30 Jul 2014 | 9:16 pm
     hungry corners consume the fallow meat. christened by alone. simple numbers. complex equations. under the yoke of reality. the dead only whisper.the slope. desperate angles that reason with the skin. animals with their claws removed still scratching at the glass. the lingering path that draws us. stabbing at the empty page. like so many broken pencils. the dream woke her up. as dreams are sometimes wont to do. the stern wisdom of distance flickering like a dying lamp. the journey took her. as they often do. every mile a dagger. the destination painfully blunt. whispering skin. so loud.
  • Suspecting the Horizon

    25 Jul 2014 | 8:46 pm
    chasing the wind. fits of surrender grinning like jack o lanterns. empty eyes filled with fire and mischief. wandering. finding. the distance rewards dedicated skin. and the edges's eager advocates. in the dark. there are only the colors that pretend to listen. long paths carry on their murders. one confession at a time. the simple funeral of touch buries what remains of expectation. the road resolves to how far we've come. a curious equation. more circumstance than science. the pictures take us. and we are taken by them. the corners are stubbron. false gods with their fingers on the…
  • Four Way Stops

    20 Jul 2014 | 8:40 pm
    the measured autonomy of silence is swift. a grave architect. all dry mortar and wet bricks. the hum of construction in dead ends and open drawbridges. death is never about the grave. only what's left. the distance wears her. pink cheeks and stained denim. she wanders. the leash forgotten. finding only new versions of lost. colorful and arrogant. as are all disappointments. the religion of skin is persistant. though less than reliable. there are never words enough. there are never the right colors. to prove those monsters exist. so we just bark. like dogs. frightened by all the noises too big…
  • Shades of When

    16 Jul 2014 | 8:56 pm
    her soft words. her hard decisions. the temperamental flood that is reason. all salt and confession. in dull needles and inadequate medicines. the obvious disease. the whisper of touch. struggles to focus. on objects much too close. a verbose silence wonders under her breath. epiphany's dense suicides. come rapidly and random. expectations are paper. a microcosm of wrinkled graves. time is a whore. sour pleasures festering in the remnants of sultry fever. more surrender than submission. if such a distinction can still be made. her fingers scraping the fissure. all marrow and old bruises.
  • Yesterday's Oligarchy

    13 Jul 2014 | 8:35 pm
    the number confides. yawning scars. the future in increments. chasing promises long since expired. meat clings to the bone. but hunger easily manipulates any given circumstance. soft scabs fester. a riot of flesh. small revolutions distort us. animals gnawing on leashes attached to no one. lazy roads ambling into storms that never burst open. the angle of if sharper than ever. the pull of gravity like a lover scorned. the distance is measured, not in effort, but in depth. we don't go anywhere. we are always taken.in inches. in miles. in pieces. the mosaic of touch always building upon its…
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  • mmcci

    30 Jul 2014 | 4:31 pm
    and then there was youby which I of course mean me
  • mmcc

    24 Jul 2014 | 10:49 am
    I’m on assignmentin a time unfolding.Breaking myselfin order to awaken.Broken down open eye.       But that space is also an epiphany.                                      —Etel AdnanHead in the clouds iswhere I’m heading.Already there, Itruly suppose, ifone can ever sup-pose so truly.  Asong in my eyeor ear (awaken)called Anxiety.       And…
  • mmcxcix

    23 Jul 2014 | 1:37 pm
    What a Relief!Isn’t it oddthat I don’tjust labyrinth?But nope.  And what a power week I’m having.Eating daily,focused [onredundant],centered.Some timepasses,which iseither goodor bad, butwhichever,there is abottle ofPerrier,and I amthe oldest.The eldest.And yetworkingout, checkedout, checkingout.
  • mmcxcviii

    22 Jul 2014 | 10:45 pm
    Don’t You Dare Act Up!Drinking a lemon zingerin this tight-ass boxI wonder what’sso wrong withliving the lifeof an escapeartist.Escape artist.Escarpment.Odd, thesememories,how theylabyrinthat twilight.So at oddswith feeling[Vertigo.Escargot.]so high theentire time.Check myselfin the mirror.  Theenormous saladI’m going toeat in an hour.
  • mmcxcvii

    21 Jul 2014 | 11:14 pm
    Duh.  Rhetorical questions.                —Rachel Blau DuPlessisI don’t do worst.  Except“A book is the goal,” (sigh)“...but not just any book.”Okay.  Then what?  Again,rhetorical.  Bombastical(see “flatulant”) (and otherwords I mean to remember,like “prolix”, “garrulous”,“fustian”) (well, that one’seasy), and the always con-fusing, my “high-flown”.“How did we ever get here?”I fawn with prolix emphasis.I mean influence.  I meaninterest.  Which,…
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    Chicano Poet

  • 19 Jul 2014 | 7:50 am

    19 Jul 2014 | 7:50 am
    This Is Just To Say(homage to william carlos williams)I have takenthe coldkosher plumsthat werein the iceboxand given themto yourexterminator
  • 17 Jul 2014 | 12:06 pm

    17 Jul 2014 | 12:06 pm
    Manifestation Along The South Texas Borderred wheelbarrowviciously attackedanddismantledinthe rainby thewhite chickenswithglazed eyes
  • 10 Jul 2014 | 10:52 pm

    10 Jul 2014 | 10:52 pm
    Chamaco Sailed The  Ocean BrownChamaco crossed the seaand slaughtered the Europeansmade the landhis ownand later took pridein declaringthat he wasone quarter Europeanthat one of his ancestorswas a European princess
  • 10 Jul 2014 | 8:31 am

    10 Jul 2014 | 8:31 am
    Wrinkle In TimeAnd here's the wrinkleChamaco was Shirley Temple's dimpleChamaco fought the lawand the law runDeserts and riverssang like Johnny RiversChamaco's dark looksreminded us of Katy JuradoThe sun was Mexicanby all accountsChamaco's arttuff like Humphrey BogartChamaco was a Martian" Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!"Chamaco wrote a love songfor the wrong cabronaChamaco had a way with wordswhich no one heard
  • 8 Jul 2014 | 8:42 am

    8 Jul 2014 | 8:42 am
    River DeathThe Border Patrol agentstood over the body.The Rio Bravoignores it all.The Rio Grandedon't give a damn.Chamaco has dieda thousand times before.Chamaco can't swimbut he loves that dirty river.Chamaco's soulspells trouble.Chamaco's mindswells double.Chamaco's dyingto die another day.
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    the dust congress

  • 12 Jul 2014 | 10:44 am

    12 Jul 2014 | 10:44 am
    the story begins I did not know who she was and the story ends I did not know who she was
  • 17 Jun 2014 | 9:45 pm

    17 Jun 2014 | 9:45 pm
    I was making it up but no one was buying I was the first big weekend of the summertime * Nice Breeze song Transparency played during this thoughtful Pilot Waves podcast/interview of Washington City Paper arts editor Christina Cauterucci.
  • 29 Apr 2014 | 7:46 am

    29 Apr 2014 | 7:46 am
    dream Francisco Goya dream Vincent Van Gogh dream Gerhart Richter don't dream Billy Joel Nice Breeze May Performances: Arlington, Virginia (Facebook Invite) Brooklyn, New York (Facebook Invite) WDC (Facebook Invite)
  • 16 Apr 2014 | 5:00 am

    16 Apr 2014 | 5:00 am
    I wish they didn't put mirrors behind the bar Lady Pink, The Death of Graffiti, 1982, The Attorney Arrives At His Office On April 16 -- klipschutz Of course it would be dark, the accounting firm next door, on the ultimate day after the night before. People hate lawyers and pity the bean counter. People hate themselves and withhold pity from the poor. Across my desk not one of you can look me
  • 14 Mar 2014 | 9:56 am

    14 Mar 2014 | 9:56 am
    many times we've been out drinking and many times we've shared our thoughts * Nice Breeze's "Transparency" is featured in the Washington City Paper. * WAMU's Bandwith blog includes Nice Breeze in its Brief Introduction to DC's garage rock scene.
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  • calling into the ghosts

    gautami tripathy
    6 Jul 2014 | 10:32 am
    an image or an apparition blind to the ragged rain  a wavering candle hidden beneath a cape ghosts call for blood as he runs to the foot of the hill arms akimbo blind to everything other than to... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • reflecting a random thought

    gautami tripathy
    1 Jun 2014 | 8:56 am
    countless dreams- I don't wish to chase any now I would rather follow the sturdy terrain continue paving the way to that field where the scent of the flora beckons me I propel forward by an unknown... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • all that paraphernalia

    gautami tripathy
    25 May 2014 | 10:09 am
    I survey before me stuck in there a display for donations treat for some eyes maybe my smile is fixed I can't laugh anymore take me out of here, mate I have a meeting in few hours listen to my heart... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • a forgotten past

    gautami tripathy
    18 May 2014 | 11:27 am
    in the regency era- they with alabaster skin ask for bread. such graphic images, with plastic smiles- we observe the chaos. a force, not a disaster, follows people, even into the mines, within the... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • in between feeling

    gautami tripathy
    11 May 2014 | 10:32 am
     a clumsy attempt to fly dreams land on the sharp edge of axe shattering sky can't make her vanish clouds settle to listen to her pleas no amount of name calling can bring her down in her... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
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    Wordplay Poetry BlogWordplay Poetry Blog

  • Thank You Mary Jane

    21 Jul 2014 | 8:58 pm
    Thank you Mary Jane I’m so glad you and your sisters Maria and Juanita came by. Certainly Mario and Juan are happy to see buds like you and Maria and Juanita who were so lovely in their green flowers.
  • The Other Road Poem by Dandelion de la Rue

    19 Jul 2014 | 10:37 pm
    I watch them Trotting slowly On the road less traveled Four white horses Looking at Not Me Seeing me not In my parallel universe. But I see them. I slow Watching them Their road Trying to guess Their secrets And why they glow. I have no glow. It’s all a blur Here on the superhighway That magic energy lies only on the dusty rocky secret wild horse road. Horns honk I must go 55. I must keep up. The horses are behind me now Their road is disappearing into mist. But NO! I must not lose it. I pull over hearing shouts of rage and warning cries. You can’t stop here, You fool! But stop I do…
  • Slide Into the Sea You Blood Red Moon poem by Ken Peters

    19 Jul 2014 | 10:35 pm
    my constitution is killing me I know enough to care about the lead in the water or in the air somebody mistook their freedom for a license we should just be fair everybody complains about the water but just wait until it’s gone everybody complains about their life but just wait until it’s gone they all talk about the violence doesn’t touch them behind locked doors they don’t have to be out there hanging with the poor so if I never danced for my father and didn’t dance that much with my wife I can hear the drumbeat/heartbeat now I’m dancing for my life slide into the sea you blood…
  • To the Bed Pan Person Poem by David Michael Jackson

    19 Jul 2014 | 10:34 pm
    Nursing home Clean white dry sheets every day now. There are the memories of another place another time wet sheets every day bladder infection kidney failure. No don’t think about it, he says. The bed pan persons are doing the job as important as the doctors as the nurses totally un heralded There is a place for you in my tears We need heaven for you
  • While you were Waiting poem by David Michael Jackson

    19 Jul 2014 | 10:33 pm
    While you were waiting she was sleeping. While she was sleeping. I was wanting, yearning, without cigarrettes I have no perceived angst. Take the pill. These modern times go down with the pill. Why cry? The world will go on without your poetry. Why try, and yet trying is what you are about, going there, coming here to type again, knowing others will read, maybe they will try too. As the universe was expanding and burning out he typed these words on a computer screen. Let’s make it a good ride!
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    Silliman's Blog

  • 31 Jul 2014 | 9:00 pm

    31 Jul 2014 | 9:00 pm
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    30 Jul 2014 | 9:00 pm
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    Poet Hound

  • Amanda Oaks' Hurricane Mouth

    8 Jul 2014 | 3:01 am
    Amanda Oaks’ Hurricane Mouth is published by NightBallet Press and is a powerfully emotional collection of poems that describe the impact of words, thoughts, actions on relationships within the poet’s life. They are beautiful and hardscrabble, delicate yet tough in sinew. The poems are honest and brutal and life-affirming. It is another collection where I have “dog-eared” the majority of the pages and had to settle for a select few to share with you, dear readers:WE’RE ON OUR OWN OUT HERELate summer, picking peascornfield just feet away,I would tiptoe with the wordsof warning looped…
  • black hands of a morning calm by Ayshia Stephenson

    10 Jun 2014 | 3:14 am
    black hands of a morning calm by Ayshia Stephenson is published by imaginaryfriendpress (who doesn’t LOVE the name of this press?) and follows our poet’s experiences overseas where her skin color stands out more than she’s ever imagined. In South Korea she begins to feel uncomfortable even around her fellow Americans who reside in this country with her, longing to feel enveloped by the color black amidst the sea of night lights and South Koreans who stream past her. The collection is beautiful in the poet’s expression of her sense of self outside of her native country of America and…
  • Eric Shonkwiler's Above All Men

    6 Jun 2014 | 3:11 am
    Above All Men by Eric Shonkwiler, published by MG Press, is set in the future where drought has devastated the country. Cities empty out as people flee to the country in hopes to farm their way out. Existing farms face the hardships of running out of fuel for their equipment and are forced to grow what little they can by hand. Dust storms sweep across the landscape filling homes and barns with sand. The main character, David Parrish, does his best to help his neighbors and a gullible family duped into believing they can turn their luck around after leaving Atlanta. David’s son, Samuel,…
  • Music for another life. A Collaborative text by Kristina Marie Darling and Max Avi Kaplan

    13 May 2014 | 3:13 am
    Max Avi Kaplan’s photography capture a glamorous 1950’s high-style woman who is spun into a wife who reveals the unglamorous side of domestic bliss under Kristina Marie Darling’s skilled hands. I am not able to share the photos that pair with each poem, so please sneak a peek any way you can and/or purchase a copy for yourself, the photos truly set the scene for each piece. A woman named Adelle, who longs for domestic bliss and finds none, she is one who abandons the notion only to reveal the complexities of having been part of married life and then no longer being part of the world so…
  • Susan Yount's House On Fire

    29 Apr 2014 | 3:13 am
    Susan Yount’s House On Fire is published by Blood Pudding Press and carries with it the weight of overcoming childhood’s complexities and rising above the ashes. Her poems are raw and beautiful, provocative and daring. I am happy to share a sample below:Sissyholds the bloated baby goat.Tongue licks death. He bawlsrecoiling neck and I cannot stop this.Evident Baby is sick beyond kilter,straw sticks to his teeth. Yet Istill pretend to call the vetand help support Baby’s neck.Sissy looks at me and blue eyesballoon behind saline. Life whiffsin her hands while the phone rantsoff hook. She…
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    The Best American Poetry

  • “Smart Women Adrift”—& Tom Drury [by Katherine Zlabek]

    Katherine Zlabek
    31 Jul 2014 | 8:05 am
    Back before my time on the family farm, we had too many farm cats. As you may or may not know, farm cats are cats that wander by their own free will to a family farm. They catch mice and birds, and occasionally the farmer will give the pack of them a scoop of feed in an old aluminum pan that’s nestled into some barn straw. The cats come and go, and that’s why it’s best not to give them too personal of a name. Something like “Calico,” or “Old Blue Eyes,” will do. Now, at the time our farm...
  • This Magic Moment: The Great Bewildering Action [by Katherine Zlabek]

    Katherine Zlabek
    30 Jul 2014 | 7:47 am
    My nephew, when he was two- or three-years old, bit into the wall—a nice bite of the corner paint and plaster—because something had not gone as he’d planned. He was so frustrated that all he could think to do was to bite the wall. My mother was a self-described happy-go-lucky teenager. She stayed up late smoking and dancing. Ran across yards at dawn to get the best catch of fish in the neighborhood. The boys loved her, and her boyfriend wanted to marry her. But, instead, she joined the convent at seventeen, and stayed there for around eight years. My...
  • Next Line, Please the Big Reveal: The American Scholar's Crowd-Sourced Sonnet

    The Best American Poetry
    29 Jul 2014 | 12:09 pm
    Three months ago, the American Scholar initiated a contest to write a crowd-sourced sonnet. With line fourteen chosen, all that remains to complete the poem is a title. Visit the American Scholar's page to enter your candidate. Here is the completed sonnet: How like a prison is my cubicle, And yet how far my mind can freely roam: From gaol to Jerusalem, Hell to home. Freedom ends or starts with a funeral. Say what must die inside that I may not Cast down this die and cross the Rubicon, Thence to the true hell: the heat in Tucson, Where drug...
  • A Beautiful Thing Has Passed / Why My Mother Stalked Professor K at a Truck Stop off I-80 [by Katherine Zlabek]

    Katherine Zlabek
    29 Jul 2014 | 7:36 am
    I was driving, some years ago, to Michigan. Both of my parents were in the car. Or perhaps it was a truck, or a van. I say this because we were riding tall on the road. I was in some twisted phase of moving, from Michigan to Ohio. The exact circumstances are now shady, apart from the fact that I was already feeling nostalgic, and that, due to the demands of the body, there was no avoiding the truck stop a few miles ahead. And then a car passed us. The driver wore an old cowboy hat, and since we...
  • Happy Birthday John Ashbery!

    The Best American Poetry
    28 Jul 2014 | 8:39 am
    Greetings from Sodus, NY (circa 2003). We took a trip and we thought about you . . . -- sdh
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    Harriet: The Blog

  • BORING: Paris Review on Emily Brontë’s Birthday Documents

    Harriet Staff
    31 Jul 2014 | 9:50 am
    Who’s that lady? Why, that’s Emily Brontë mon petit. The Paris Review combs through letters that she sent on the date of her birthday and alas, their verdict was that the letters are rather boring. It’s Emily Brontë’s birthday, and wouldn’t you know it—of her famously scarce surviving documents, several are letters written on and about the anniversary of her birth. Imagine! Rare glimpses into the thoughts of the most inscrutable Brontë sister! As Robert Morss Lovett wrote in The New Republic in 1928, Emily “was the household drudge … the ways by which her spirit…
  • Lend Me Your Ears

    Mónica de la Torre
    31 Jul 2014 | 9:30 am
    Is it me or is Marcel Broodthaers the new Vito Acconci in the poetry world, the de rigueur historical example of the poet/artist? It seems rare nowadays to engage in a conversation dealing with conceptual art and writing that doesn’t touch on Broodthaers. His hold on those suffering from post-conceptual fatigue syndrome is not surprising if one considers the fluidity of his anti-disciplinarian imagination, which goes far beyond interventions such as the one he performed on Mallarmé’s Un coup de dés and comfortably traverses the interstices between language and the image in fiction,…
  • The Erin Morrill–Eyed Poetics of Unmotherhood & Anti-Memorial

    Harriet Staff
    31 Jul 2014 | 7:30 am
    After hearing and not forgetting this rambunctious, profound, and clear-eyed essay by Erin Morrill at the East Bay Poetry Summit, we’re glad to point to it in print. Now up at Entropy (in the Art section): “After I Wasn’t Dead: much obliged notes on unmotherhood, the anti-memorial, the mother of dragons, muita obrigada A Copa” touches on all of the above, with corresponding images. Do we even know what we’re having a moment of silence for? “But I don’t really ascribe to the notion of silence as it is merely an opportunity for deep listening, duh the Cagian.
  • Poet David Wojahn on Wave Books, Robert Lax & Lorine Niedecker

    Harriet Staff
    31 Jul 2014 | 6:00 am
    At Numéro Cinq, poet David Wojahn has penned an essay likening Wave Books to the salad days of Grove Press and New Directions, then steers his gratitude toward Lorine Niedecker and Robert Lax, whose Selected Poems 1962-1997 was edited by Lax’s former assistant, John Beer, and published last November. “Wojahn has read long and thought deeply; it’s terrifically bracing to absorb his fluency with poets and traditions, the ease with which he epitomizes lives, works and influences. Such brevity and compression only comes with the profound familiarity and respect. I don’t think it…
  • Pattie McCarthy Reviews Sasha Steensen’s House of Deer at Jacket 2

    Harriet Staff
    30 Jul 2014 | 12:00 pm
    At Jacket 2 we are eagerly starting to read Pattie McCarthy’s new column, “Subdomestictexts.” Each post explores the relationship between the domestic and the text. Her newest entry is all about Sasha Steensen’s book, House of Deer. Why not start here with the freshest of prose and verse, with Pattie McCarthy: The family is the history of the species. The family is the history of love & place & force & naming. The family is a history of home— & if home is both “a site and an event,” then the family is a history of what happens. In physics,…
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    Dunstan Carter : Poetry

  • Business Brunch

    31 Jul 2014 | 4:54 pm
    There is something Hollow when he speaks, Like a dentist’s Repeated mantras, Bus stop gossip Or the forced cry Of children. His hands look Light and hollow, Gently wafting Above his scripts; His hair Doesn’t match His eyebrows And his buzzwords Sound like flies Dizzily drifting Into coffee cups At a business brunch For sales drones, I’m chewing the skin On my thumbs.
  • Lemon Tree

    18 Jul 2014 | 4:13 pm
    The sun whispered In the garden As nature throbbed, A single hummingbird Fluttered Frenetic, Flies buzzed all fussy And the wind Tickled leaves, As we wandered All dazed. A warm blooded sky, Hot light flickering, The weird Clicking crickets And their hypnotic Racket Flowing and growing Like an orchestra Thrumming, A dizzying oddness Pausing our thoughts. We held hands And stared straight at A single fruit sitting At the heart Of a lemon tree Singing, Simple and high pitched, An odd waspish whistle Of witch giggles And wonder, A strange treasure plundered, A sour delight; It was wondrous,…
  • Who?

    2 Jul 2014 | 3:56 pm
    Sometimes, Every now and again, We need to erase people From history. We strip them of awards, Take down plaques and paintings, Throw old tape into skips And burn stuff, Signed photos and t-shirts, Ticker tape and old contracts; Why deal with things When we have fire? We whisper suspicions in hindsight And rattle our tutting Like huge dripping drainpipes; Why deal with things When we have the rain? Gallons of dirty water Lapping against the stains We’ve been slowing leaving here For decades; Why deal with things When we can rebuild? Hundreds of glass buildings Reaching high and echoing the…
  • Charming Caveman

    26 Jun 2014 | 5:00 pm
    Give me that Moment again And you will see A night sky filtered All luminescent pomp, Fireworks Conducted by sparrows, A blaze of glory, Perfectly framed, Sucked in and then Kissed on your eyelids, All stylish And grand, Like only a charming Caveman can.
  • Before Sleep

    25 Jun 2014 | 5:48 pm
    I have words I’ve yet to promise, A handful of insults And a truth I need to bury, Far beyond the blind man’s winds and clouds Or the dreams trapped on the sand, Across the tide’s dark purple hue And beneath the questioning dusk, I shake dried mud from my hair And laugh at nothing won; I have promises I’ve yet to insult, A handful of truths And some words I need to bury.
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    Robert Peake

  • Reaching the Next Generation with Poetry

    Robert Peake
    26 Jul 2014 | 10:50 am
    I never thought of myself as a children’s poet. Yet it was thanks to Dr. Seuss that I began to delight in language itself, and I believe this early contact was crucial to my subsequent love affair with poetry. The tradition continues today, with excellent children’s poetry books coming out in print like In the Land of the Giants by George Szirtes (Salt, 2012). Yet I wonder if reaching children where we increasingly find them–affixed to the glow of a touch-screen device, with the whole of the Internet just a tap away–can be just as effective to instil a love of words…
  • “Buttons” (Award-Winning Film-Poem for Children)

    Robert Peake
    15 Jul 2014 | 10:00 am
    I am delighted to announce that “Buttons” won the judge’s prize in the 2014 Southbank Centre Poetry Film Competition “Shot Through the Heart” children’s category. It will premiere at the prize-giving ceremony on July 18th at the Purcell Room in London. Click here to view the video Buttons Buttons themselves are a kind of love token, they fasten your coat to keep out the damp, and love is each stitch sewn tight and unbroken sticking them down like a well-licked stamp. Buttons make eyes for your stuffed toys to see, which bulge when you squeeze them right up…
  • Push-Bike by Elaine Gaston (Film-Poem)

    Robert Peake
    22 Jun 2014 | 1:00 am
    Click here to view the video Push-Bike Click here to read the text of the poem on the Poetry Society website. Process Notes Valerie and I were honoured to be selected to make a film from one of the seven commended poems in the 2013 UK National Poetry Competition. We admired Elaine Gaston’s “Push Bike” as a poem, and sought to carefully expand on some of its themes with music and visual imagery. I used the camera module on a Raspberry Pi to capture time-lapse of clouds out our front window, and mixed this in with public domain footage from Preligner archives. Valerie composed…
  • Filmpoem 2014, Antwerp

    Robert Peake
    17 Jun 2014 | 7:56 am
    Poets, musicians, and filmmakers from all over the world converged on FelixPakhuis in Antwerp last Saturday for a fantastic day of screenings and conversation. It was a pleasure to see John Glenday again, and to meet outstanding poets like Michael Symmons Roberts and Zeynep Köylü alongside filmmakers like Marc Neys and Adele Myers. You can read more of my thoughts on the day, and view a selection of excellent film-poems from the first screening curated by Alastair Cook, which provides a fine introduction to the genre overall, in my article on the Huffington Post. Click here to read the…
  • Aerial Manoeuvres (Film-Poem)

    Robert Peake
    11 Jun 2014 | 12:00 am
    Click here to view the video Aerial Manoeuvres In dreams, I am convinced I have always been able to fly– the updraft from the cliff will catch me like my mother when I launched from the stairs on a bird-brained impulse, avian memory, invincible faith. Airline rituals reassure me– the act is routine ad tedium– tyres drift up off the tarmac, metal wings skate the air. “Falling doesn’t hurt,” we joke, “it’s hitting the ground.” So I fall, and fall into myself, gasping awake on a feather bed. Larks slice through the dawn, and part of me goes…
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    The Nahmias Cipher Report

  • Laughter a Threat to Chastity? Yes, Declares Turkey’s Deputy Prime Minister

    Ayanna Nahmias
    30 Jul 2014 | 9:54 pm
    Ayanna Nahmias, Editor-in-Chief Last Modified: 00:50 a.m. DST, 31 July 2014 ANKARA, Turkey — Chastity has long been a source of contention and in fact has often been used as a justification for the domination of women throughout the centuries in various parts of the world. It is another means by which some men seek […]
  • Changing Egypt: Nine Men Convicted of Sexual Assaults

    Allyson Cartwright
    28 Jul 2014 | 5:03 pm
    Allyson Cartwright, Contributing Journalist Last Modified: 20:03 p.m. DST, 28 July 2014 CAIRO, Egypt — A Thomson Reuters Foundation survey last year showed that Egypt has been the worst Arab country for women. A swell of gang rapes, sexual harassment, female genital mutilation, and other crimes against women have been on the rise since the Arab Spring. […]
  • Immigration Policies: Two Countries Address the Global Expat Dilemma

    Vinita tiwari
    24 Jul 2014 | 11:23 pm
    Vinita Tiwari, Middle East Correspondent Last Modified: 02:23 a.m. DST, 25 July 2014 “Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists”. ~ Franklin D. Roosevelt This phrase by one of the most iconic figures in the history of the American presidency affirms the fact that […]
  • International Volunteer Series: Two Amazing Young Men Serve in Gumbo, South Sudan

    Olivia Elswick
    22 Jul 2014 | 11:38 pm
    Olivia Elswick, Asia Correspondent Last Modified: 02:38 a.m. DST, 23 July 2014 GUMBO, South Sudan — In this final installment of the International Volunteer Series, I invite you to get to know Michael Gotta and Patrick Sabol, friends from the Franciscan University of Steubenville, now living together in Gumbo, South Sudan after feeling called to […]
  • Lightning Strikes Twice? Malaysia Airline Tragedies

    Ayanna Nahmias
    17 Jul 2014 | 7:10 pm
    Ayanna Nahmias, Editor-in-Chief Last Modified: 22:10 p.m. DST, 17 July 2014 DONETSK, Ukraine — First, we preface this article with our sympathies for the families and friends of the 295 people who died when a Malaysian Airliner was shot down over eastern Ukraine earlier today. It is a horrific tragedy, in a world which has […]
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    Magma Poetry » Blog

  • Blog Review 35: Pippa Little Reviews ‘The Years’ by Tom Duddy

    Pippa Little
    15 Jul 2014 | 2:40 am
    I’d only read one poem by Tom Duddy but its simple grace stayed with me. There was a mysteriousness and sweetness to it, a gut feeling that this was a real poem by a real poet (much as I felt when first reading John Glenday’s Grain). It was ‘The Touch’, and, like many of the poems in this posthumous collection, dealt with a rural Irish childhood memory of going running to fetch the doctor and being met on the doorstep by his wife “…whose briskly gentle hands/once fixed my collar as I stood in the rain”. I wanted to discover if Duddy’s other poems had that magic and…
  • Call for contributions – Magma 61 on the theme of ‘the street’

    Jon Sayers
    3 Jul 2014 | 8:35 am
    Magma’s original meaning in Greek is ‘mixture’ and so the theme of ‘the street’ seems a fitting reflection of our magazine’s ambition to represent the widest mix of poetry, from the formal to the informal, the mainstream to the margins.  The street, after all, is shared territory: all human life is there.  Magma, too, is common ground, and we believe all poetic life should be able to rub shoulders here. We are seeking poems that celebrate the street as a public thoroughfare, owned by no-one and everyone, where strangers pass and old acquaintance meets, where glances are…
  • Magma 59 Launch in Leicester

    Roberta James
    2 Jul 2014 | 6:26 am
    Join us for an evening of poetry and a celebration of Magma 59: Breaks at our regional launch Upstairs at the Western in Leicester, Thursday July 17th. Lorraine Mariner and Kathryn Gray will be joined by other poets from the issue. Drinks are available from the bar downstairs and can be brought up. Doors open 6.30 for reading at 7pm. The reading will conclude by 9pm. Entrance is free. You can reserve your place by booking on Eventbrite.  
  • Blog Review 34: Andrew Sclater Reviews ‘Lowland’ by Will Kemp

    Andrew Sclater
    1 Jul 2014 | 4:31 am
    Before I opened this book, I liked the cover’s atmosphere — sedges against a hazy grey-blue background. Imagine fenland, mist and water. The title Lowland stands pale and eerie across the top, as ‘there’ and ‘not-there’ as a vapour trail. The 80 pages are full of fenny atmospheres and remind us how vast landscapes dwarf human desires and aspirations. Lowland, Kemp’s second collection, is a sequence on love and unfulfilment, set against the lonely opennesses of East Anglia and the polders of coastal Holland. The North Sea stands as a great, chill, opaque-blue mirror refracting…
  • Magma 59: the new issue and its launch events

    Roberta James
    26 Jun 2014 | 1:31 am
    Magma 59 will be launched at two venues.   In London, the launch will take place at the London Review Bookshop, 14 Bury Place, London WC1A 2JL on Friday 27 June. Doors open at 6.30pm with readings 7 to 9pm with Colette Bryce and Lorraine Mariner.  Entrance is free, but please reserve a seat here.  Wine will be available with a recommended donation of £3.   In Leicester the launch will take place Upstairs at the Western on Thursday 17 July beginning at 7pm.  Entrance is free, and drinks can be bought at the bar.   As usual, at both events, lots of poets from the issue will…
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    Poet Mom

  • I'd like to thank the Academy ...

    25 Jul 2014 | 2:12 pm
    The Academy of American Poets, that is, for posting my poem "How to Love" as today's Poem-a-Day! How to LoveJanuary Gill O’Neil After stepping into the world again,there is that question of how to love,how to bundle yourself against the frosted morning—the crunch of icy grass underfoot, the scrapeof cold wipers along the windshield—and convert time into distance.What song to sing down an empty roadas you begin your morning commute?And is there enough in you to see, really see,the three wild turkeys crossing the streetwith their featherless heads and stilt-like legsin search of a morning…
  • "Weird Al" Yankovic - Word Crimes

    23 Jul 2014 | 7:45 am
    Just back from vacation. Will do a full post later but had to pass this on. Another reason to love Weird Al.
  • Taking a Break

    9 Jul 2014 | 2:13 pm
    Lying in a hammock in my backyard reading James Wright's "Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota"This was yesterday's FB photo. I'm surprised I had time to sit back for a few hours because I'm in kid mode most afternoons. In truth, we have a vacation coming up which has gobbled up all of my brain space. Couldn't even muster a confession for Confession Tuesday. So I've decided to take a short break from the blog. Too much to do in a short amount of time. I'll be back online later in the month. Bye!
  • The 5th of July

    5 Jul 2014 | 10:23 am
    Hope you had a nice Independence Day! If you live on the East Coast, no doubt you were drenched in torrential rain from Hurricane Arthur.This picture (which looks a bit blurry--sorry) was taken at a local Fourth of July Parade. The morning was cloudy but rain free, so the town, Manchester-by-the-Sea, was able to get in a few events before the all-day downpour. I don't think I've ever been a part of a more quintessential New England event before. We sat curbside in lawn chairs and watched the parade go by. The crowd was decked out in red, white, and blue--like everyone shopped at Old Navy…
  • The Poetry of Work - The Work of Power

    5 Jul 2014 | 9:58 am
    Scan of my ID tagNever have I been to a poetry reading where I had to go through a security checkpoint. But then again, never I have read poetry inside a power plant. Such was the venue of the latest Improbable Places Poetry Tour stop this past Wednesday.The reading was was part of the exhibit "Across the Bridge," documenting the visual and narrative legacy of the Salem Harbor Power Plant--created by the students of Montserrat College of Art. The reading was held in Turbine Hall and I can't emphasize that it was a completely different world for me. Physically, visually,…
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    Daily Poem With Gods Help

  • Last Day

    31 Jul 2014 | 7:25 pm
    Last day…-—————- Last dayWell the 31st has come, July’s last day, The Rockets burst were lots of fun,But now the dog is on his way-————–-copyright 2010 KenneyYoung.comOriginal article: Last Day©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
  • What a Day

    30 Jul 2014 | 7:24 pm
    What a day…-——————–-What a dayWhat a day, What a treat, Spending time, With friends so sweet-——————--Original article: What a Day©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
  • Day Bag

    29 Jul 2014 | 7:30 pm
    Day bag…-—————-Day bagWell another day, Is in the bag, And not too soon, I was starting to sag, But I’m very grateful for these days, And the opportunities that they give, Yesteryear was so dark and empty, But today I have got a life to live-———————-Original article: Day Bag©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
  • Trust Process

    28 Jul 2014 | 8:09 pm
    Trust process…-———————–-Trust processToday I trust God, Not the process, If you’d like to know what I mean, I’ll be out at recess-——————-Original article: Trust Process©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
  • Sicker Than a Dog

    27 Jul 2014 | 7:39 pm
    Sicker than a dog…-——————————--Sicker than a dogWell for some reason I’m sicker than a dog, I guess it was something I ate, Which is really quite distressing, Cuz everything tasted great-——————--Original article: Sicker Than a Dog©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
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  • Insanity For Dummies

    29 Jul 2014 | 10:49 pm
    Defining sanity is a waste of time cause the insane are convinced they know what time it is when only the sane need to check to see the need to check their watch then laugh at everything all the while thinking it’s yesterday when their watch today says so clearly it’s tomorrow.
  • Let There Be Dark

    26 Jul 2014 | 10:02 pm
    Darkness was doing just fine without light as memory was managing alright before it was told of last night’s tragedy of the plane crash made memory yesterday we weren’t even there to remember it doesn’t matter when the one you love went down swallowed by ground though we know we all go south eventually death always has such poor timing though hope can always be stored in the overhead compartment we never know which direction we will go could be north could be south so pack your parka and bikini.      
  • Lake Baikal

    20 Jul 2014 | 10:29 pm
    The lake is fed by as many as 330 inflowing rivers.[4] The main ones draining directly into Baikal are the Selenga River, the Barguzin River, the Upper Angara River, the Turka River, the Sarma River and the Snezhnaya River. It is drained through a single outlet, the Angara River. You don’t get to be the deepest lake in the world without taking in at least 330 rivers Lake Baikal is deep 1642 meters deep      
  • Fishing For Whales

    20 Jul 2014 | 9:57 pm
    What do you tell someone who had caught a blue whale at the end of his line and then lost it “There’s bigger fish in the sea?” Forgetting that a whale ain’t no fish no there’s not that was it. That was your chance at catching the big one sure, you could cast your line again and maybe you could even snag a baby beluga whale but, Ishmael your whale has sailed. Now what? Can you make do with a minnow?
  • If Everything Is Relative Then Relative Is Nothing

    12 Jul 2014 | 10:25 pm
    Someone just told me I only use 10% of my brain what he doesn’t know is I rent the other 90% out as an ant farm. I just decided what I want to be when I grow up a kid but kids today don’t have pen pals like microwaves make food faster but not healthier we have turned correspondence into instant popcorn I teach my students: Nothing worth learning can be taught in a classroom then in brackets I write: (You didn’t learn that here.) Sobriety is relative most of my relatives are drunk. Me? I’m relatively sober. The last time I threw a paper airplane made from a laptop out the…
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    Dark Matter

  • The Rules For Being An Oppressor

    Tony Brown
    31 Jul 2014 | 3:54 pm
    Last posted on 6/25/2012, titled “Oppressing Them: A How-To Guide.”  Original posting 4/7/2010. Dog them early while the scent of sulfur builds. Maze the rules they must play by until loopholes become jaws. Stack them till your God approves of the height of the pile. Open their prison doors and pour in hot oil and lingering fame. Approve their paroles in a voice of long chains. Denounce them at the whiff of impure thought. Relegate their romances to the dustbin of hysteria. Imagine their lifestyles as moldy bread. Bite mincing mouthfuls from them till they spit back. Reject their…
  • Feather

    Tony Brown
    31 Jul 2014 | 6:23 am
    Originally posted 3/31/2010. feather floating a little this way a little that one current lifting another driving down will drop at some point to the floor where it will stir a little  now and then mostly will lie still having found its level like my head my truth  my real face which no matter how  propped up with breath  will fall full of dust a discard  don’t care drift was movement  was needed for a while
  • If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day

    Tony Brown
    30 Jul 2014 | 5:03 am
    Originally posted 11/28/2010. Robert Johnson lived where he died(though he got around some if the stories are to be believed) Robert Johnson lived where there were no arteries only veins  squeezing blue to the heart Robert Johnson lived where he could condemn every last one of us  to Hell  with gusto and a song Robert Johnson lived and died by pussy bottle guitar and one sharp suit Cigarette boy from the suburbs on the stage tonight in a sharp suit You’ve seen plenty and gone far but I can hear  where you live That smells like kind bud on your lapel I know that’s small…
  • Perfect World

    Tony Brown
    28 Jul 2014 | 3:07 pm
    Originally posted 11/25/2003. The news speaks of Siegfried and Roy, of terrible news that a beloved tiger has turned upon them; also, I see we are still at war. I am not Roy. I am not Siegfried. I cannot make any of this disappear. Therefore, I will give up.  I will turn toward the headlines that call out war and other savagery and surrender my own head to that tiger. Into his jaws, the ivory ridged tabernacle, I shall commend my spirit. I shall learn to speak in sitcom and imagine in high definition  what it’s like to be at war – if my left eye opens, I will wash it in a pool of…
  • Narrative

    Tony Brown
    28 Jul 2014 | 5:29 am
    Originally posted 6/13/2005. jargon rorschach manacle throttle poorhouse monument bluebells bottle revenant supplicant slingshot fader sandman tearstain silhouette crater failure faceplant dirtfeast tower endgame closure shutdown over
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    Root Times

  • The Art of Being Alone (Blog)

    Sucay Miranda
    28 Jul 2014 | 2:59 pm
    Being alone. Some people can't stand it, some people can, to the point of enjoyment. When you're okay being alone, it's when you're ready to have someone in your life. Otherwise you will come across as needy, and that is unattractive. You have to find something you love doing. Something that you enjoy, something that doesn't require others' company. For example, I have a YouTube channel, and I enjoy making videos, I make one each day. I talk in them and let my thoughts out.You have to find your own thing. Being alone is not the end of the world. There are so many things you can do to enjoy…
  • You're Not Good Enough (Blog)

    Violines Y magia
    2 Apr 2014 | 2:23 pm
    "You're Not Good Enough"Everyone at some point in their lives, feels like they're not good enough. And that is because we tend to measure ourselves with society's rules. If you do this, you will never feel like you're good enough, that's because society expects perfection. You are never going to be perfect. But you can be what YOU want to be.The big question is, are you what you want to be? If so, then you're good enough. Because it's our own opinions that matter. No matter how you live your life, someone is gonna disagree. There's no one perfect human being; besides perfection is relative.
  • Fear of Rejection (Blog)

    Sucay Miranda
    29 Mar 2014 | 3:17 pm
    "Fear of Rejection"Fear of rejection is the main reason why people hesitate to meet someone new. Everyone gets rejected at one point or another. It should not be a barrier. If you go out there and meet someone new, if they reject you, go find somebody else. Don't let it stop you. We are all interesting in our own way, you just have to find someone that you 'click' with. There are people with all sorts of interests and hobbies, you will eventually find someone who you share interests with.You just can't stay in your room all day if you want to meet new people. They are not going knock on your…
  • We are not weak (Blog)

    Sucay Miranda
    20 Mar 2014 | 3:39 pm
    "We are not weak" Us people with a mental illness tend to think that we are weak. But it's the complete opposite. Living with a mental illness is rough. Dealing with the depression, for example, is a nightmare. Thoughts of suicide and self harm can be overwhelming. So it takes a strong person to overcome those things. Thank goodness there is medication that help living with such thoughts. So it takes a strong person to live with the illness. But we tend to see ourselves as weak. Which it's not true. We're strong. Specially the ones who are not on medication. If you're not on medication and…
  • People Do Like You (Blog)

    Sucay Miranda
    11 Mar 2014 | 4:43 pm
    People with low confidence tend to think low of themselves. That they're not funny or interesting. But they never take the time to open themselves up. Everyone is funny in their own way, as well as interesting. They're afraid of being judged. They may tell a joke in a random conversation, but if no one laughs, they retreat. But c'mon, everyone tells a bad joke from time to time. But to the socially awkward, it's enough to never open their mouths again.They think that everything has to be perfect so that they can be in public, realizing it or not. They've are very self aware of everything they…
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    Heartful Whispers

  • 24/07/2014. Life.

    24 Jul 2014 | 3:18 pm
  • In memory of Muhammad Ali.

    8 Jul 2014 | 2:54 pm
    This piece is a poetic translation of the Urdu original by the late Muhammad Nazir Bhatti             (my grandfather), entitled: Muhammad Ali ke Yaad me; and written about my little brother.           His memory came to wake me,It left me here bereft “What are you doing, dear grandfather?”It whispered as it left.I saw a field of flowers then,Where there were blossoms bright and blueBut one lonely flower caught my eye,Its scent, across the distance, flew. I too picked up my poets pen And left in its pursuit I searched…
  • 24/06/2014. Istanbul.

    24 Jun 2014 | 6:46 am
    I am gazing from the helmAs the world gazes back at me ,The faint taste of ocean tears, Tingling on my lipsAs I sip silently upon the wind.It rushes past me,Over me and under me And through me, all at once.Tugging at my veil,Unveiling layers upon layers Of cloaks, shrouding my soul,Unravelling time before my eyes,Laughter and sorrowsYesterdays and tomorrowsTangling and untangling until…Silence. Time has stoppedEvery clock halts andThe sand grain lingers in the hourglass. I see with perfect clarity The clouds that sail the skies with their silver lining, Oh, how the sun is shining. I see…
  • 3/06/2014. Ignorance is bliss.

    7 May 2014 | 9:16 am
    Look at youYou tread fearfully on the edgeTiptoes on the thread of space and timeTo you it is a straight line, that begins and ends with you;That self-importance is so comical. You stand at the peak of this ball of rockwhere you live to dieand you’re rewarded for your compliance to the cause.You don’t have to worry about the consequencesOf your actions,So carelessly put together,A recipe for a successful disasterYou are the chef, the master,of course only you matter, just ignore the chatter of everyone else.Greet all those beneath you with a friendly sneer,With the mask behind which you…
  • 4/4/2014. The Story I Am.

    4 Apr 2014 | 5:35 am
    You construct every sentence of my life,sentencing me to a life of your choosing,I am losing a battle with every demon you have penned,penniless within my soul, sold to the devil so long ago. I am a story with so many commas I pause for effect, cause and effect are illusions, delusions you have formulated in the mind of manlest he ever doubt the freedom he thinks he has.Everyone else keeps moving on,they are gone before I can blink,no time to think which road to takeafor you write my decision before it is madeand I am saved from the perilous evil of peace.I am but a…
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    More than Words !

  • Adiabatic Souls !

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    23 Jul 2014 | 2:00 am
    resplendenceof the universe, she kisses, all atmospheres, which is near to her eyesher curvature, the horizon and offshore, OUTBURST, poisonous lips soothing skin burning vent careless, yet careful hands and hairsWONDERSTRUCK now-trivial motion, speed sensors, words, sentences, pages,books of love, but nothing, absolutely nothing close to home multi-layered multicolored bed-sheets adiabatic souls transfusion sonic bursther endocrine glands, working up late warning…
  • You are the Holy Communion (JUMP INTO THIS)

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    17 Jul 2014 | 3:26 pm
    Dear ones, Jump now, in this abyss of absurd mind process, JUMP NOW, JUMP IN,JUMP OUT, to your own heart, bearing light, Come now, COME OUT OF YOUR BEING,COME TO LIFE, COME TO DEATH, COME IN,Just be Drop Dead, no motions, no silence, nothing just come, with naked mind, Jump Now, deep within, to the grace of living, ask again, WHO AM I ?WHOOOO AAAM I ?JUMP NOW, into the space craft, get yourself together,release all that you have kept hidden,all burdens, all fears, all anger, all jealousy, all…
  • 'Plato would Banish Me at Birth'

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    16 Jul 2014 | 1:51 pm
    In Plato's Republic, poets are banned and banished 'Homer' the first official unsung heroof western literature.Yes, in Plato's Republic,he is left out of all literary rows, Plato says, Iliad and Odysseyare not for good men.Who are those good men, I wonder. Poetry, He says, is the empty 'eloquence of fools'and Poets are those, who can corrupt the best soul. Poetry in Greek means 'to make' (poiein)Plato says,truth is the act of becoming, not making, So poets are deceivers, liars, Trompe-l'œil,meaning, making an…
  • Home was always, a million miles away !

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    15 Jul 2014 | 9:01 pm
    A million miles away from home, my shoes got torn apart,so did my heart, and mind, and eyes, and  ears,but I walked and walked, I walked when I was sad,I walked when I was happy,I walked when it rained and snowed,I walked when it was scorching hot home was always a million miles away, but I walked, Winters Summers SpringsAutumn I walked, as I died, and then just rewind !Home was always, a million miles away !
  • He is a Stinking Flesh covered with Ego of Man

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    14 Jul 2014 | 3:45 pm
    As the faulty path,of dammed men stretches, to those innocent lives, millions are lost, millions are shot, but hope is constantly in the edge, through tears, through blood, through sorrow, through hunger, hope is again seeded in the gut, a boy, hears his first gunshot, and encounters deathhe also dies, he becomes a man, of the cruelty laid upon him, his sister is taken away, he needs to remain calm, he needs to focus and remain a man, the book says so, the lord has demanded that, it is not his…
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  • Producers Notes: Building The Groovalottos Album Pt. 1

    Mwalim Daphunkeeprofessor Peters
    15 Jul 2014 | 9:40 am
    The Groovalottos keyboard player and producer, Mwalim DaPhunkee Professor, began his habit of keeping a journal while working on a project many years ago when he produced his first demo back in the mid 1980's. Usually, these notes are simply a tool used to keep the project on course, but for this album, he decided to share his notes as they come. Welcome to part One:This is going to be a premiere album by a band of seasoned players, so the album needs to be a statement... a calling-card of sorts. After many months of gigging and rehearsing, The Groovalottos were ready to start recording…
  • PRESS RELEASE: 1st Gathering of the National Congress of Black American Indians and All Our Relations set for July 19th in Washington DC

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    10 Jul 2014 | 1:26 pm
    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:July 10, 2014CONTACT:Jay Winter Nightwolfwahyasunoyi@aol.comMJ Petersinfo@daphunkeeprofessor.com1st Gathering of the National Congress of Black American Indians and All Our Relations set for July 19th in Washington DCWASHINGTON DC - The National Congress of Black American Indians will be holding it's first gathering for people of mixed Native American and African American ancestry and all our relations on Saturday, July 19, 2014 at the Plymouth Congregational UCC, 5301 N Capitol St NE, Washington, District of Columbia 20011, 11am to 5pm.Speakers…
  • "The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negro" by Frederick Douglass

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    4 Jul 2014 | 6:04 am
    The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negroby Frederick DouglassAs we celebrate the 4th of July, or in my case attend my tribe's powwow, this is also a day to reflect upon the powerful words of Frederick Douglass in his speech delivered one day shy of 162 years ago in Rochester, NY. As we reflect upon the social and political climate of today, including the prison industry, much of what was said then still stands.Mr. President, Friends and Fellow Citizens: He who could address this audience without a quailing sensation, has stronger nerves than I have. I do not remember ever to have…
  • NOTICE: July 19th in Washington DC is the first gathering of the National Congress of Black American Indians

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    29 Jun 2014 | 3:01 pm
    Be A Part of A Historic Gathering!!! The First Gathering of the National Congress of Black American IndiansJuly 19th in Washington DC
  • Friday Night Philosophy: Know The Difference...

    Mwalim Daphunkeeprofessor Peters
    30 May 2014 | 7:49 pm
    This evening, I had a conversation with one of my folks about a relationship that they just ended. Morally, we are supposed accept and embrace the people we love's flaws and imperfections, as 'nobody's perfect'  However, with that, we sometimes owe it to ourselves to distinguish "Imperfect" from plain old "F--ked Up".- DaPhunkee One
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    The Arkside of Thought

  • The Day You Leave Me

    Sahm King
    28 Jul 2014 | 10:23 pm
    One day you’ll leave me. I won’t even see it coming (like a blind man watching porn). One moment you’ll be filling my head with absurdities and all the reasons I should give in to the calling of a black man’s stereotype self —you know that self, that one that clamors for change as loudly […]
  • A Pleasant Tickling in the Brain

    Sahm King
    28 Jul 2014 | 12:54 pm
      a vase has two faces, said twice through a sip of water; the medical report is dire and CNN’s satire on a missing plane is tucked in the thong hidden by your gown. Take a pistol -or entice panache with a Gurthark Mark VI revolver- because a medical robot breastplate cannot fix every broken […]
  • Like the Flies – a poem

    Sahm King
    28 Jul 2014 | 12:00 pm
        Could you imagine treating people like we treat flies? I mean, letting go of the excuses and admitting the fog of war is not so dense as we pretend and compassion was not meant for filthy, disease ridden bugs, telling how we really feel, that their lives are not worth as much as […]
  • The Beggar at the Window

    Sahm King
    26 Jul 2014 | 9:13 am
    I watched him through the window, sitting there, just existing. The food was sand and the drink, of a sudden, tasted of the potent smell of urea with a semen hint waltzing with body odor after love making with a drunken stranger. He turned, looking through the window, the glaze in his eyes complementing the […]
  • John the Baptist

    Sahm King
    24 Jul 2014 | 7:31 pm
    *Believe it or not, this piece is about my excursion to the bathroom. Home was always a forgone conclusion wilting at universe’s edge —if such a thing were god— flowers left unwatered, unmarried woman turned McRib, a temporary infatuation until the brain notices that awful, rumbling wrongness the gut nurtures —in that way only processed […]
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    Miklos Arany

  • Dear Boys

    21 Jul 2014 | 6:16 am
    Run and Like the wind Unsettle the world With your dreams Of making it Diving in deep Finding the lost In the uncharted Take care Have courage Be the falcon And the falconer Love and Like the hunted Share your lives Without measure
  • 444: Poems from Two Centuries

    21 Jul 2014 | 6:15 am
  • Black and White in Shades of Gray

    7 Jul 2014 | 4:17 pm
    Freed from every hunger, Desire and greed fallen Like flying towers of sand. Released from the sharp Edge of fear and the dull Weight of regret, suspended In the border between Finite earth and limitless sky, We have nothing, want nothing, Lose consciousness and aren’t. We’re trapped by escape, Lost and found by strangers, Slipped under the door Like a surreptitious love Letter delivered between Dusk and dawn at a house That is unoccupied even By ghosts, subtle as Supernumerary dimensions And groomsmen side-by-side In black and white.
  • 444: Poems from Two Centuries

    7 Jul 2014 | 4:16 pm
  • Hamsa

    28 Jun 2014 | 12:10 am
    Light lifts and darkness falls As the sun sinks, the rising horizon Joining Earth and sky at a glance, Restless wind stirring the leaves Like breathing in waves, something On the wing, soul in flight, unquiet. Tonight is dry, solitary, peaceful As a hunter before the hunted breaks From cover, both suddenly wide awake The world is better when we sleep And our dreams arrest, our fires Slumber, fear and hunger balance.
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    Bechdel Babes

  • Disability: It’s probably not what you think.

    Bechdel Babes
    10 Jul 2014 | 8:21 am
    Disability, along with feminism, is a systematically misunderstood concept. Ideas of disability are so convoluted, so medicalised that we often miss the harsh reality individuals in society face. The social model of disability… Continue reading →
  • Existential Dread as Ethical Opportunity

    Bechdel Babes
    11 Jun 2014 | 6:20 am
        I always feel queasy when people ask me for advice or talk to me as if I have some remedy for their existential problems. I study philosophy, I must know the… Continue reading →
  • Whatever you do, don’t mention poo: a transition to motherhood

    Caitlin McGregor
    29 May 2014 | 3:58 am
    The first months of motherhood: expectation vs reality
  • Reclaiming the C-Word

    Bechdel Babes
    19 May 2014 | 7:21 pm
    There is only one word that, if I uttered in front of my Grandma, I’d probably get punched in the face for (by the woman herself). While it’d be hilarious and a fantastic… Continue reading →
  • Race in film: The Transfiguration of Lavender Brown

    12 May 2014 | 6:02 pm
    The Harry Potter series was was a fundamental part of my childhood. I spent years dragging my parents past midnight to buy the latest book or go to the latest film premiere. I… Continue reading →
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    Gatsby's Abandoned Children

  • We’ve been each others jail, we’ve been each others escape

    Jeremiah Walton
    31 Jul 2014 | 10:47 am
    You are my moonlight my only moonlight you are my heroin my morning coffee you make me happy when waking is an eclipse and sleeping is a sacrifice. Tagged: a fist full of moonbeams, alt lit, lit, literature, moon, poem, poet, poetry
  • My eyeballs don’t tear up.

    Jeremiah Walton
    29 Jul 2014 | 10:44 am
    They scream & start eating everything. Tagged: alt lit, internet poetry, lit, literature, poem, poems, poet, poetry, writing
  • Whoring out posey-lions

    Jeremiah Walton
    26 Jul 2014 | 10:48 am
    This is a poem for every prostitute who’s been beaten and robbed This line is in memory of the perpetual broke There’s not enough time on the planet for every stitch being planned This metaphor is because I hate punk rock This simile is a busted up thumb that can’t get a ride to a better writer Looking for the write cliche to sodomize till it’s been chewed over enough that it fits perfect in mouth Heres an Mia promise because out right luring is wrong A vignette for puking on the sidewalk I’m full of shit & the world is full of that. I am an artist and that…
  • Eating the dead

    Jeremiah Walton
    22 Jul 2014 | 10:42 am
    Smells like you’ve been eating dead folk again The glaciers are going to melt in 3 days The butterfly sanctuary in my stomach is over populated Looking for high quality light bulbs You’ll be disappointed at the wattage of tongue No choice but to sacrifice the electric bill towards a Cope On Demand investment paneling for new electricity power plants are new souls crafted for you buy in bulk for discount deals!!!?!!! The God of Giving Up told me to fuck off I can’t quite give up I can’t give up on you I can’t give up on people Can’t get high enough to…
  • Cooking St. Joan

    Jeremiah Walton
    22 Jul 2014 | 10:10 am
    Count the love notes I’ve written to you and you could count the tiny lines of skin frugal heart – munch down shove the muscle pump down throat bloody teeth bloody tongue puking gore, this is love looks like period tongue looks like pond bruises looks like dawn kicking night out because sunset was sucking him off. I wrote that to make me smile, silliness, I want to say I need silliness but I dunno what the fuck I need. You insomniac city of dancing skeletons sing me to sleep lullabies of the ghetto Christ was raised in lullabies of the nails crunching the bone in his palm…
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    Poetic Hope

  • The Song of My Heart

    31 Jul 2014 | 5:00 am
    You say I should Think about my healthAnd get some sleepDon't worry about the poemJust get some sleepHow could I do that?I need to sculpt The song of my heartI need to sculpt The song of my heartLike I need to breathI need to sculpt The song of my heartLike I need to eatI need to sculpt The song of my heartLike I need to liveIf I cannot breathe I either fight and struggle 'Till I can breathe once againOr I dieIf I cannot sculptThe song of my heartI either fight and struggle 'Till I canAnd if I don'tThen my heartWill dieMy Thoughts about the PoemA few nights ago I ended up staying up until…
  • All About You

    30 Jul 2014 | 5:00 am
    You and I We will be together For the rest of foreverBut to be together foreverWe will have to be oneThere is very little I do not knowAbout meAnd there is very littleThat I do not wantTo know about youI want to know you better than I know meI want to love you better than I love meI want to walk a lifetime in your shoesI want to be with you for The rest of foreverSo I want to knowAll about youBut please rememberWe do have foreverSo don't hesitateTo take a little timeBy Joseph Kemper © 24 February 2014I hope you like the poemPlease remember to comment, like, and shareThank you.You can find my…
  • Life

    29 Jul 2014 | 5:00 am
    'Tis a wonderful thing 'Tis life that brings me joys Oh sure I have to deal with a few bumps Here and there Or maybe a little more often But either way it brings me joy So with joy being brought Sometimes drop by drop And at others in floods and rivers But either way it comes And so that is all I can ask And all I really want By Joseph Kemper © 24 February 2014I hope you like the poemPlease remember to comment, like, and shareThank you.You can find my new book, "A Poet's Heart: Love Poems Volume 1" Here…
  • My Last Moment

    28 Jul 2014 | 5:00 am
    I never know when it will be It could be tomorrow Or it could be in seventy years I might not see the sun set this day Or I could see ten thousand more Oh I hope to live forever Especially when I am in your arms But I really never know Because I really never know I will love you like it is coming now I will love you Like the breath I am drawing now Will be my very last Each and every day Each and every moment ‘Til forever comes By Joseph Kemper © 24 February 2014 I hope you like the poemPlease remember to…
  • Trust

    26 Jul 2014 | 5:00 am
    I started with but a flicker I took a chance I found a light I took another And found hope I took another And found my life I took another And found strength I took another And found heaven By Joseph Kemper © 23 February 2014 I hope you like the poemPlease remember to comment, like, and shareThank you.You can find my new book, "A Poet's Heart: Love Poems Volume 1" Here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems-Volume/dp/1492992933
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    Cute Love Poems for Her

  • My Fantasy, Made Reality

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    7 Jul 2014 | 5:57 pm
    ‘Twas merely a fantasy A wild dream beyond reality My imagination captivated My vision held at ransom For the sake of your beauty Beauty that penetrates my soul Diving to the deep waters of my heart Stimulating my complete desire Etched and sealed in memory Mesmerized by even a mere glance Touching you, kissing you, I’m in awe Never could I truly envision How perfect these moments could be The earth waits, time remains still When your body is pressed against mine My heart leaps in your presence Awaken by your glow Dormant, patiently waiting My joy hidden and reserved For your love…
  • Heaven Needed Mom

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    6 May 2014 | 6:52 pm
    So many things of Mom I miss – Her gentle hug and tender kiss. I still can feel her warm embrace. And picture yet her loving face. A mother’s tasks are never done. And heaven must have needed one. For angels came and took her hand And led her to God’s promised land. She’s surely kept quite busy there While brushing little angels’ hair. And making sire they’re dressed just right. Not staying out too late at night. Although there’s sadness, this I know – she’s waiting there, her face aglow. I close my eyes and I can see – Her arms…
  • I Love You

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    4 May 2014 | 10:00 am
    Young and afraid I should have said “I love you.” I hear in my heart her reply: “Do you really want me? I’ll be with another.” Shy, greener than green, I couldn’t say it. “I love you.” The post I Love You appeared first on Cute Love Poems for Her.
  • 10 Beautiful Poems for Mom on Mother’s Day to Show You Love Her

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    3 May 2014 | 12:10 pm
    #1 A Mother’s love is something that no one can explain, It is made of deep devoation and of sacrifice and pain, It is endless and unselfish and enduring come what may For nothing can destroy it or take it away… It is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking, And it never fails or falters even though the heart is breaking… It believes beyond believing when the world around condemns, And it glows with all the beauty of the rarest, brightest gems… It is far beyond defining, it defies all explanation, And it still remains a secret like the mysteries of…
  • Love in the Daytime

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    3 May 2014 | 10:19 am
    My lover Shines like the sun. I may be burned Black as a frying pan, Sweating buckets And keeling over With vertigo, But why worry? My lover Shines like the sun. She pours over my body And breathes into my soul. It feels so good When she lights My love on fire Like dry wood. The post Love in the Daytime appeared first on Cute Love Poems for Her.
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