Poetry

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  • Every Hard Rapper’s Father Ever: Father of the Year by Douglas Kearney

    Poem of the Day
    Poetry Foundation
    23 May 2015 | 11:00 pm
    by Douglas Kearney
  • Abhay K's poetry-painting to highlight Delhi's glory in Rome

    Poetry News
    24 May 2015 | 5:49 am
    New Delhi, May 24 : Rome will get the taste of Delhi through poetry-painting by poet-diplomat Abhay K and artist Tarshito in an exhibition on June 3. The exhibition titled 'The Seduction of Delhi' will present the poems of Abhay K and the paintings of Tarshito on major landmarks of Delhi such as the Qutub Minar, Lal Qila, Purana Qila, Jantar Mantar, Ugrasen Ki Bauli, Tughlaqabad Fort, Humayun's Tomb, Safdarjung Tomb, South Block among others. The exhibition is being organized by the Embassy of India, Rome.
  • The big questions

    bentlily
    Samantha Reynolds
    21 May 2015 | 8:14 am
    You used to ask me about death in the dark in the whisper voice you use when you don’t want your stuffies to hear but now you are so cheerful about it pointing at old people in grocery stores asking me with some excitement if they are almost dead yesterday you cornered me and wanted to know if people ever die the night before Christmas I tell you people die every day in a tone that tries to say death is not scary but perhaps don’t  bring it up so loud in public so you whisper back with wide eyes what does Santa do with their toys?
  • Garret Potter - A Bottle of Safety

    IndieFeed: Performance Poetry
    22 May 2015 | 12:00 am
    Garret Potter on IndieFeed Performance Poetry.  Show number 1495.
  • Poem of the Day: Time Passes

    Poem of the Day
    Nina Alvarez
    27 Apr 2015 | 8:41 pm
    Time too is afraid of passing, is riddled with holes through which time feels itself leaking. Time sweats in the middle of the night when all the other dimensions are sleeping. Time has lost every picture of itself as a child. Now time is old, leathery and slow. Can’t sneak up on anyone anymore, Can’t hide in the grass, can’t run, can’t catch. Can’t figure out how not to trample what it means to bless. -Joy LadinFiled under: poem, poem of the day, Write, Writer
 
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    Poetry News

  • Abhay K's poetry-painting to highlight Delhi's glory in Rome

    24 May 2015 | 5:49 am
    New Delhi, May 24 : Rome will get the taste of Delhi through poetry-painting by poet-diplomat Abhay K and artist Tarshito in an exhibition on June 3. The exhibition titled 'The Seduction of Delhi' will present the poems of Abhay K and the paintings of Tarshito on major landmarks of Delhi such as the Qutub Minar, Lal Qila, Purana Qila, Jantar Mantar, Ugrasen Ki Bauli, Tughlaqabad Fort, Humayun's Tomb, Safdarjung Tomb, South Block among others. The exhibition is being organized by the Embassy of India, Rome.
  • Blackheath poetry evening to help Nepal quake victims

    24 May 2015 | 1:33 am
    MEMBERS of the Walsall Poetry Society were at the Lyndon Hotel where we had about 23 people present and we are now looking forward to the forthcoming Walsall Arts Festival. Many of our members are published poets and my next book will shortly be published, Black Country Blues - proceeds to Cancer Support.
  • Sugar Tongue Slim On World Cafe

    23 May 2015 | 1:07 pm
    World Cafe 's Sense Of Place: Philadelphia series is a perfect opportunity to feature the work of local rapper Sugar Tongue Slim, or S.T.S. He's just released S.T.S. X RJD2 , a collaboration with the Philly DJ; it's a high point for both artists. Originally from Atlanta, Sugar Tongue Slim arrived in Philadelphia to go to school and infiltrate the hip-hop underground.
  • Book Review: Rang Leela (Poetry) is a fresh breeze

    23 May 2015 | 8:57 am
    Rang Leela, a book of poems, published by poet Piyush Arora offers a new perspective to viewing things. Couplets and poems have a charisma that lasts with you long after you have finished reading the book.
  • Reading Corner | a Looking Arounda offers accessible poetry for everyone

    23 May 2015 | 4:45 am
    "Looking Around," by South Strand resident Jim R. Rogers, is a poetry collection that celebrates the unique messages in ordinary objects and events, available to us by being sensitive to the world around us. Rogers captures the joy and sorrow encapsulated in the everyday by simply "Looking Around."
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    bentlily

  • The big questions

    Samantha Reynolds
    21 May 2015 | 8:14 am
    You used to ask me about death in the dark in the whisper voice you use when you don’t want your stuffies to hear but now you are so cheerful about it pointing at old people in grocery stores asking me with some excitement if they are almost dead yesterday you cornered me and wanted to know if people ever die the night before Christmas I tell you people die every day in a tone that tries to say death is not scary but perhaps don’t  bring it up so loud in public so you whisper back with wide eyes what does Santa do with their toys?
  • Sleepless

    Samantha Reynolds
    20 May 2015 | 12:04 pm
    It is one of those nights my bones don’t fit me my head tossing my to-do list like a juggler in the dark a hum of panic in the quiet I am stuck upside down like a fly in a web I nurse the little one lying beside her in the pool of sand that somehow travelled with her after the bath then the older one wakes up a nightmare about jam I am a lunatic soothing another telling him over and over strawberries can’t feel pain I end up on the couch cursing the invention of decorative blankets the sun ignores my plea for more time dumping a flood of light into the room I watch the dust dance…
  • Grocery shopping

    Samantha Reynolds
    18 May 2015 | 2:02 pm
    We have a ritual now starting with raspberries which you finish by the time we get to the bread you put them on each finger like thimbles and if one falls you say bird and I say nothing letting you believe a bird will get lucky here you pick the apples and I let you point out the cheese which you wave at people saying hallo after they are long gone we go the same route each time a comforting pattern as though there are tracks beneath the wheels of our cart we are in no hurry wandering the aisles while you babble and sing uncharacteristically outgoing and yell baby every time you see one but…
  • A conversation without words

    Samantha Reynolds
    17 May 2015 | 1:54 pm
    She shrieks every time like a little joy grenade bringing the cup back to me so I can fill it with water and she can dump it in the garden again it’s a conversation without words making me feel like I have won something when she says wawa and I guess right I tell her to try pouring water on other plants she looks at me for a long moment then dumps it again in the same spot I watch amused as the earth grows swampier in that corner I am calmed by the simplicity of her delight and then she says duh duh duh so I remind her that daddy is away but she shakes her head duh duh duh so I point to the…
  • Worthy

    Samantha Reynolds
    16 May 2015 | 9:57 am
    Whose voice says you aren’t worthy it isn’t mine I am the one trying to pour love into the head of a pin.
 
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    Poem of the Day

  • Poem of the Day: Time Passes

    Nina Alvarez
    27 Apr 2015 | 8:41 pm
    Time too is afraid of passing, is riddled with holes through which time feels itself leaking. Time sweats in the middle of the night when all the other dimensions are sleeping. Time has lost every picture of itself as a child. Now time is old, leathery and slow. Can’t sneak up on anyone anymore, Can’t hide in the grass, can’t run, can’t catch. Can’t figure out how not to trample what it means to bless. -Joy LadinFiled under: poem, poem of the day, Write, Writer
  • Poem of the Day: Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota

    Nina Alvarez
    15 Apr 2015 | 12:41 pm
    Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly, Asleep on the black trunk, Blowing like a leaf in green shadow. Down the ravine behind the empty house, The cowbells follow one another Into the distances of the afternoon. To my right, In a field of sunlight between two pines, The droppings of last year’s horses Blaze up into golden stones. I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on. A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home. I have wasted my life. -James WrightFiled under: poem, poem of the day, poet, poetry, Write,…
  • Poem of the Day: The Peace of Wild Things

    Nina Alvarez
    23 Mar 2015 | 7:41 pm
    When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. -Wendell BerryFiled under: poem, poet, Write, Writer
  • Top 10 Poems of 2014

    Nina Alvarez
    2 Jan 2015 | 5:02 pm
    For the 7th year in a row, here are the TOP 10 POEMS of the year at NinaAlvarez.net. Thanks for being part of my community. Happy New Year. 1. Ithaca 2. I Walked a Mile with Pleasure 3. The Lost Son 4. Ithaca (Video) 5. The Unicorn 6. The Serpent 7. What You Should Know to be a Poet 8. Deathless Aphrodite of the Spangled Mind 9. Love Me Like You Never Loved Before 10. from Last PoemsFiled under: words
  • Poem of the Day: Weave in, My Hardy Life

    Nina Alvarez
    6 Oct 2014 | 2:58 pm
    Weave in, My Hardy Life Weave in, weave in, my hardy life, Weave yet a soldier strong and full for great campaigns to come, Weave in red blood, weave sinews in like ropes, the senses, sight weave in, Weave lasting sure, weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant weave, tire not, (We know not what the use O life, nor know the aim, the end, nor really aught we know, But know the work, the need goes on and shall go on, the death- envelop’d march of peace as well as war goes on,) For great campaigns of peace the same the wiry threads to weave, We know not why or what, yet weave, forever…
 
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    Wade on Birmingham » Daily Haiku

  • a holiday, not a holy day

    Wade Kwon
    23 May 2015 | 10:00 pm
    Let us honor the fallen without piety or such idol worship. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • the lonely dunes

    Wade Kwon
    22 May 2015 | 10:00 pm
    I walked along the lonely dunes and found myself at one with others. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • sea breeze

    Wade Kwon
    21 May 2015 | 10:00 pm
    Not so much currents of air as a lullaby made of atmosphere. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • the black eye of the gulf

    Wade Kwon
    20 May 2015 | 10:00 pm
    It dwells below the depths, a cesspool of mankind’s oil addiction. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • thanks, dave

    Wade Kwon
    19 May 2015 | 10:00 pm
    Late night no longer a time to sleep, but a chance to laugh and unwind. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
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    the amandzing way

  • breathe

    amandzing
    22 May 2015 | 1:51 am
    theres revelation in the reevaluation in your life in my life i mean to say to find the satisfaction of where im meant to be the place that validates me the function that makes be me lets me be me its all about me dont depend on others for your validation it makes you needy im told not you me its all about me but i dont know know when I’m being me if people dont see me i need to be seen no you need water you need air no i need a space just a little space i have to have a place to claim to proclaim as my place if im not seen i cant make a splash in this water i dont need air for my voice…
  • Xenophobia – South Africa’s not-so-secret shame…or How to fuck up Mandela’s legacy

    amandzing
    23 Apr 2015 | 4:08 am
    It is a combination of the stench of raw sewage overlaid by frustration and desperation at a perceived theft of dignity by those who live in the Madala Mens’s Hostel which impales the senses. Residents of the hostel in Alexandra, east of Johannesburg in the Gauteng province of South Africa, were the target of the second raid by the South African Police Service (SAPS), supported by the South African National Defence Force (SANDF).  Generally considered a no-go area for police and outsiders alike, police were having none of it on Wednesday night as members stormed the building.  The…
  • #IcantEven

    amandzing
    12 Dec 2014 | 11:17 pm
    where have all the writings gone lost in the high definition 7 bajillion colour pixelated world of crash boom and specially effected bangs where have all the writings gone lost in a world of political correctness chopped just as surely as a mawkish teenager dancing in the beat of the night with inelegant steps whispering lustful i love yous on beer stained breath we dont see any more day by day we see even less the splitter tittle of water in a fountain the pattern of a dainty deer picked out against the bulk of a mountain green covered with the life of spring we dont hear any more day by day…
  • In black and white

    amandzing
    24 Nov 2014 | 9:29 am
    as black as sin black sheep of the family and like sheep everyone bleats black people this black people that even black people embrace, cuddle, masticate the words black people i dont know any black people i know people with black souls i know people with honey brown skin hazel, chocolate-coloured, coffee-coloured, cocoa-coloured nut-brown skins yet we fixate on black slack black, dirty black, light sucking black, black hole black aparthate planted the seeds of self hate it must be why else would a proud nation own black enjoy black it makes no sense to privileged caucasian me maybe my…
  • Rhino capture – not so easy

    amandzing
    25 Oct 2014 | 2:54 am
    4.30am – Kruger National Park, Mpumalanga, South Africa Long awaited spring rains finally arrived on Friday in the South African National Parks’ (SANParks) Kruger National Park in Mpumalanga. In Skukuza rest camp; there is a crisp freshness in the air, as the Kruger slowly awakened with the dawn. The storm clouds have been shredded by gale force winds during the night, leaving thin grey streaks of cloud in the sky. The rain is gone for now, but threatens still. Now all that remains is for rangers to track today’s first rhino for translocation. The process is in full swing now,…
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    IEPI

  • 8 May 2015 | 12:49 am

    8 May 2015 | 12:49 am
    My version of "Sacred Hate" a poem from 1898 by the Afro-Barzillian Cruz E Sousa, is in the new issue of The Nation. Here is the original:Ódio sagradoO meu ódio, meu ódio majestoso,Meu ódio santo e puro e benfazejo,Unge-me a fronte com teu grande beijo,Torna-me humilde e torna-me orgulhoso.Humilde, com os humildes generoso,Orgulhoso com os seres sem Desejo,Sem Bondade, sem Fé e sem lampejoDe sol fecundador e carinhoso.O meu ódio, meu lábaro bendito,De minh'alma agitado no infinito,Através de outros lábaros sagrados,Ódio são, ódio bom! sê meu escudoContra os vilões do Amor, que…
  • Change of platform

    1 Mar 2015 | 8:24 am
    Follow us from now on on Tumblr: http://poeticinvention.tumblr.com/
  • This poem / Gets up / And does / Something

    28 Feb 2015 | 1:00 pm
    Tom Beckett's poem "This poem" is all about the question of who speaks in this poem. It is one of the better poems I know dealing with this subject. Who is the speaker? Beckett? Someone else? The poem itself? It opens as follows: This poemProffersIts ass.Well, now you know there's not gonna be an easy answer. Which, thank goodness, didn't put off all people, Thomas Fink for instance -- "Beckett's poem is no primer of poststructuralist theory" -- and Nicholas Manning -- "poems too are unsure of themselves" -- and Steve Tills -- "one needs yards and yards of parentheses to contain and to…
  • Revealed patterns

    27 Feb 2015 | 10:17 pm
    Is this a blog about poetry? Yes it is. But I like pushing the boundaries now and then. Jazzberry Blue's abstract maps may not consist of words but they do have rhythm and tonality that stimulate me to perceive patterns of life in his kaleidoscopic pictures. The map of Amsterdam above, the city I live in, gives me pleasure, satisfies my yearning for order, completeness, harmony.
  • Sometimes ...

    27 Feb 2015 | 9:16 am
 
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    Poems and Poetics

  • Jerome Rothenberg: Three Poems after Images by Nancy Tobin

    Jerome Rothenberg
    15 May 2015 | 5:23 am
    [As I approach the seven-year mark of Poems and Poetics, I thought it appropriate to re-post the initial offering in the series, first posted herein on June 7, 2008.  Published later that year as a small book from a resuscitated Hawk's Well Press, two of the images appear hereand hereon the internet,  and copies of the whole can still be ordered from Small Press Distribution. My own brief comments on our collaboration & Tobin’s more extensive description of her aims & working process follow the poems, below. (J.R.)] Waiting for Seuratwaiting for seuratis not so bad is…
  • Inrasara: from The Purification Festival in April, with translation from Cham/Vietnamese & note by Alec Schachner

    Jerome Rothenberg
    11 May 2015 | 5:50 am
    [from Inrasara, the purification festival in april, The Culture & Literature Publishing House, Vietnam, 2015]From ALLEGORY OF THE LAND                                                Cham (Vietnam & Cambodia)INot a few friends have scolded me for wasting time on Cham poetryis there even a trifling scarcity of readers? Will there be anyone…
  • Homero Aridjis and Pierre Joris: Two Pieces on the PEN American Center Award to Charlie Hebdo

    Jerome Rothenberg
    8 May 2015 | 5:53 am
    [For the record & because I’m feeling some irritation following the recent PEN Center / Charlie Hebdo brouhaha, I’m posting these two pieces on today’s Poems and Poetics.  Both Joris & Aridjis have been very close to me over the years, & their pieces, taken together, provide as strong a statement as needed in the present instance.  My own sense of the issues goes back to forerunners like the Dada poet Richard Huelsenbeck who spoke out against the “misbelievers” of religion & in favor of the “disbelievers” & “the liberation of the creative forces…
  • Serge Pey: Three Poems in English from "Why I Crush Tomatoes"

    Jerome Rothenberg
    4 May 2015 | 5:35 am
    Translated from French by Yasser Elhariry [My first memory of Serge Pey was in Paris, sometime in the early 1980s, when he woke us up in the apartment off Saint Germain that my wife & I were then borrowing.  Our son had arrived a few hours before, traveling with a couple of friends across Europe & walking halfway across Parison the morning of a Metro strike.  The three of them were sacked out on the floor, across the room from us, but didn’t hear Serge’s heavy knocking on the door.  We did & when we opened up for him he moved in quickly, holding with…
  • Efraín Huerta: Some Minimal Poems, from “Poemínimos Completos”

    Jerome Rothenberg
    30 Apr 2015 | 5:48 am
    Translations from Spanish by Jerome Rothenbergcalderoniana I wasA fool& whatI lovedHas madeMe      Into           Two foolsno helping itAnd from UsTheBeatifiedPoetsArisethThe GloomOf the            WombinsectariumAPlaceWhereTheSectariansAreVery              InferocityFrom…
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    Wild Horses Of Fire

  • Interview with Maj Hasager

    Thom Donovan
    19 May 2015 | 9:17 am
    http://www.akademiesolitudeblog.com/2015/05/19/reopened-city/ "I do believe in a sort of slow art, at least in terms of production, and your framing of »an art that is careful to use time itself as a means of overcoming exploitation and expropriation« resonates very well with my thinking around methodologies. Specifically in the sense that there can be an alternative to the rush of newness in the art world—both in terms of production of objects as commodities as well as in relation to sociopolitically engaged art practices that can easily be highly commodified as well. Working conditions…
  • Isaac Pool's Light Stain (blurb)

    Thom Donovan
    13 May 2015 | 7:11 am
    http://whatpipeline.com/store/light_stain.htmlIn Isaac Pool's sculptural works, one encounters a series of quasi-figures that are abject but also extremely funny. Such works (for lack of a better term) conjure awkward forms of presence, subtly echoing a landscape and idiom of post-disaster capitalism Detroit where he is from, but also of a queer habitus after the Internet. The poems in this book provide an integral context for Pool's aesthetic practices. Navigating familiar institutional and social spaces, they tell a story of the promethean courage by which one transcends their class origins…
  • Joseph Bradshaw's The New York School (launch)

    Thom Donovan
    6 May 2015 | 2:45 pm
    EAST COAST BOOK LAUNCH FOR JOSEPH BRADSHAW'S THE NEW YORK SCHOOLBerl's Brooklyn Poetry ShopSaturday, May 16, 20157:00pm  9:00pmFeaturing Brenda Iijima, Thom Donovan, Monica McClure, Iris Cushing and others.
  • Max Razdow's True Corpus

    Thom Donovan
    5 May 2015 | 9:57 am
    http://razdow.org/archive/A corpus, as Michel de Certeau reminds us, referring to mystical literatures, mediates the relationship between between a “name” and the “rules” of a set of texts. Faced with Max Razdow’s “True Corpus” I find curious the word “true” to describe a body of work. “True Corpus,” for me, is emblematic of a particular tendency in contemporary art. Particularly among artists in the US who survived the 2000s as twenty somethings (as both Max and I did), to seek lines of flight in the fictional, (Romantic) imaginary, mystical, and occult. What does it…
  • if your eyes aren’t here it’s not mine (Interview)

    Thom Donovan
    15 Apr 2015 | 6:27 am
    "My ‘ideal community’ is made of women over the age of fifty, Mom, angry teenagers, coyote pack sounds, forgotten bananas in the freezer, and the permission granted in banal niceties such as ‘sorry’ or ‘thank you’. I was on a competitive swim team for most of my adolescence and I never got good. People kept thinking I’d improve my time, be faster, everyone else seemed to be doing it, but I never did. I became obsessed with getting faster, but not because I wanted to earn points for my team (I was far away from ever doing that) but because it felt like a funny abstraction…
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    Sad Poems

  • Particle Accelerators

    23 May 2015 | 8:32 pm
    conditions of when. the shivering compromise. all things paused. the oblivion of teh moment overtaking. pale monsters in their naked bones. voices like neelde and thread. fists like kites. we own nothing. are not owned by. dispossessed. strangers in our own portraits. thieves in razors and crayons. the crippled dominion that is if. feathers and ink in a tsunami of skin. everything shtattered except how. cruel parallels pretending we are. all missing buttons and broken zippers at the mouth of the abyss. no gravity. just arrogance. as the edge diminishes. a poverty of when. in the perpetuity of…
  • Parallel Universes

    20 May 2015 | 8:29 pm
    Bridges. A chessboard of blood and bone. Smirking at the apocalypse. At a universe of paper kingdoms. Perforated by the stale legacy of pleasure. The pace is numb. The distance is mute. The road yawns. Swallows us. Spits us out in another world. The water listens. The wind resolves. Artificial gods paint their portraits in the grass. It's too close. It's much too large. Lost in the relativity. Moments become miles. Wearing her journey in evolution and in combat. wild horses and sharp corners. the practicality of contrition like worms expelled from the soil. the blank. the spoils of solitude.
  • An Epiphany of Skin

    17 May 2015 | 8:11 pm
    the infinite chase. it blossoms and sours so abruptly. the foul in the air as the future folds. all paper and wrinkles. as empty as it began. the world. a cacophony of strangers. as the bridge collapses. a smile of clouds. and a grin of rain. moments. arid and indifferent. the soul is a desert. the flesh is an ocean. we are always lost. even when we know where we are going. even in the brightest burst of summer. there is always the scratch of winter. scraping bone.  every moment. a lazy time machine. content to leave us stranded. quiet children in dirty clothes and spoiled epiphanies.
  • Forty Miles

    11 May 2015 | 9:13 pm
    obvious thieves drew their bullets in colored pencils. taking the distance in wet thumbprints and torn resolve. the deficit flirts with the ratio. the turn loosens its grip. gravity composes skin. in nervous quatrains and arrogant fictions. it stumbles and collapses. a stubborn chemistry of conditions. scrapbook heroes drowning in chewed candy and dried blood.  a fever of tomorrows. an impossible circumference. the choking road. the swallowing distance. everywhere to be. nowhere to go. like falling without gravity. we suffer through the whims of perspective. always trying to measure.
  • Narrow Bridges

    4 May 2015 | 8:58 pm
    lazy stick figures drowning in the thunder of their want. the downhill. like some perfect sickness. doling out the world in bite size portions. the obvious monsters fell silent. all modular stars and jumper cable orthodox. the stubborn winter learned her name too late. another balloon headed for the sun.plastic kingdoms grew from her palms like iron and chocolate. sweet and rusty and vaguely nostalgic. slow storms capitulating the warmth. errant soldiers in a war of little resolve. the solvent autonomies of touch and its many wants. negotiating the perpetuity of cause. we linger for a time.
 
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    anachronizms

  • mmccclxxxvi

    23 May 2015 | 4:42 pm
    California Poem: The SequelI am no fan of spoiler alerts,so here’s one from me to you:  at the end of the season we all wake up in the shower togetherand it slowly dawns us that this episode is really hot.Yep.  During the season finale,it slowly dawns on each of uswhile we’re lathering and shampooing and whatnot during this racy communalshower scene that every single episode this season—up until we all hop intothe tub together, that is—has been nothing but one gigantic buzzkill.It was all just a night-mare; it was merely a dream.  I really do apologize.  I just…
  • mmccclxxxv

    21 May 2015 | 1:51 pm
                Grammar nonot welcome.  Hush.             —Cassie LewisWoke up with a pair offlags and the memoryof a heartbeat.  A gor-geous day, like yourbody after three-dollarmartinis.  Like yourbody of work on topof the wardrobe.  Donote that I’ve had areally sore foot andthe sound of the fan(which I just nowswitched to heat)purrs like Coco at my feet.
  • mmccclxxxiv

    20 May 2015 | 10:43 am
    Your Clever Glows Over EverythingSituational and stolen.For my own benefit.From a few words ina book that came in alovely brown paper bag.I almost always throwthe bag, the coverlet,the whatever-you-call-it,into the recycle bin (theone we finally purchasedafter living here somethinglike seven years, right?).“Just who are you talkingto,” glares Coco the Loco,who’s wrapped into a skeptical curl—all foetal-feline alert and everything.And should I even begin toanswer?  I do, in one longbreath, thinking about howwe (us, some bodies) nearlylost you (you!) to the clovera couple of months…
  • mmccclxxxiii

    19 May 2015 | 11:55 pm
    The Cross“Which one?”heard the driverof a very lengthylimousine—from somewherewithin the depthsof the enlargedautomobile.There areso many.
  • mmccclxxxii

    18 May 2015 | 7:35 pm
    Now undo this habit.          —Rob Halpern“Must we always beso undone?” musedthe nun to the othernuns as they perchedat the precipice ofa great abyss.
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    As/Is

  • Hinge Online Juxtaposition Apps

    Adam Fieled
    23 May 2015 | 2:54 pm
    #1607 Every live body has a dialect: to the extent that bodies are in the process of effacing both themselves, what they efface, I move past dialect to the extent that there are no no-brainers here, what’s moral in this is the belief that properly used dialects emanate waves to hold bodies in place. As to who’s saying this, I heard this on the street last night after a few drinks
  • Pentangle: Light Flight

    Adam Fieled
    23 May 2015 | 9:12 am
  • Dawn Morpurgo: from Siren's Silence Vol.2 No.3

    Adam Fieled
    21 May 2015 | 2:49 pm
    Big Blind Date With A Christian I'm waiting for God to come for me. He says He'll be here soon. It isn't soon enough. He's the only one who won't try to have sex with me. I like that in a God
  • Siren's Silence

    Adam Fieled
    21 May 2015 | 11:12 am
    When I think about the poetry journal Siren’s Silence, and what it meant for Philadelphia in the Nineties, the first thing that occurs to me, and it is salient, is that most of the dramas that lit up Siren’s Silence, both as a literary entity and as a scene, were invisible to me as a second-tier player in them. Vlad Pogorelov, Dawn Mopurgo, Lora Bloom, Christian Hand and the rest were all
  • The Rolling Stones: Brown Sugar

    Adam Fieled
    20 May 2015 | 11:48 am
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    Chicano Poet

  • 22 May 2015 | 7:07 am

    22 May 2015 | 7:07 am
    LettermanGregorio Sanchez was like any other poor barrio kid. Except that he was born with eight feet. And of course the other barrio cabrónes called him El Ocho Patas.El ocho pataswas a gueston the finalDavid Letterman Showhe was doing theStupid Pet Tricks segmentbut hispet chupacabrapeed onthe shiny floorand bitLetterman on the assel ocho patas thoughtI'll neverbe invited back...oh, wait a minute
  • 21 May 2015 | 5:16 pm

    21 May 2015 | 5:16 pm
    Pimp My RideThey pimpedel ocho's ridebecause hiscucarachano quieria caminarthey paintedhis caruchabrownand as he cruisedthrough townel ochohit the gashis ocho patasall overgas pedaland clutchel cabrón never usedthe brakesthe radioblaringa rock and rollrancherain the greatafuera
  • 19 May 2015 | 4:40 pm

    19 May 2015 | 4:40 pm
    In Waco With The BandidosIn Wacowith the Bandidosel otro pataswas swinging his machetesslicing the cachetesof the Cossacksand Sarah Palincould still see Russiafrom her porchas the Waco copspulled their shakysixshootershaving just had lunchat Hootersthe biker gangswent at itas el ocho patasmade his getawayhightailed itto the taco placeand hid his facebehind an Enchilada Platewhile the cops and bikersdueled at the Breasturantuntil everyonewas happy
  • 18 May 2015 | 5:06 pm

    18 May 2015 | 5:06 pm
    Green Eggs And HamI would not quoteJames Wright or sonI would not saywhich one was betteronly that Jameswas fatterand that his sonwas madderone talkedto horsesthe otherto horses' assesone needed glassesand the otherdrank enough of themI would not quoteJames Wrightor sonthey spoke their pieceand now they're gone
  • 10 May 2015 | 6:18 pm

    10 May 2015 | 6:18 pm
    Saint OchoEl ocho patasfought cockroachesas otherbrave pendejosfought fire-breathingdragonsa hearty breakfastof pan quequesand off he goesto battlethe armiesof the nightand none too soonel ocho patas aims to makehis people proudin spite of themselves
 
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    rooted

  • where the night is without wind

    gautami tripathy
    17 May 2015 | 8:28 am
    Artwork by Ulrike Bolenzstuck in the mud her hands and feet suppose she is searching  the geometry of her origin the lines, that curve, and an angle throw her a lifeline netted wings, broken... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • smoky trails

    gautami tripathy
    26 Apr 2015 | 8:53 am
    smoke, not nuclear debris blows into the air, acrid too, tickling my nose.  I watch the train on the bridge, fascinated by the train of smoke, a dark trail in clear sky the seeds of toil on... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • rainy illusion

    gautami tripathy
    29 Mar 2015 | 11:27 am
    when the fiery wind sings Old Bank Street, Manchester, UK by R.A.D. Stainforth you hold my arm (it makes a nice frame for pictures) you have mastered that craft to create illusions just a deal,... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • broken like that venus

    gautami tripathy
    1 Mar 2015 | 9:23 am
    the ghost of a sky opens up for us showing a glimpse of its mighty angerby the way of thunder but lightning is really the path if a circle can be called that fear of the unknown tears into... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • fly away

    gautami tripathy
    22 Feb 2015 | 8:42 am
    perched on the precipice  of uncut emotions the delicate yearning never stops the petals may bloom rivulets may fall into the river but the blues will not leave me alone such a hopeless... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
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    something katy

  • always and forever (5/29 title by Meaghan Hughes)

    16 May 2015 | 8:56 am
    from http://www.juvenile-in-justice.com/ o I am over and over I reoccur. my wounds have their own scars my tattoos have stories. I cannot speak I only repeat. until the thin skin that protects me haunts me. That itch never goes. it's here and here and here. it hurts. over and over. And I scratch. and the itch remains. and I start over. again. I reoccur. always. and over
  • If I was everything you thought I was (4/29 title by Nicole McLemon)

    20 Apr 2015 | 8:01 am
    everything I am, you know, you thought you knew. from pearls to pointe with curls and curves and minty fresh retorts to your boring anecdotes i am everything you know and i am more than you could ever imagine.
  • Lemon Wednesday (3/29 title by the staring man)

    8 Apr 2015 | 7:20 pm
    http://jeffhayesfinearts.blogspot.com/2015/03/print-peeled-lemon.html  the stitch stings like lemon juice in a paper cut on a cloudy Wednesday when no one is in the mood to give any sympathy and spans the length of my entirety
  • Yeast. Bees? Geese. (2/29 title by Evan)

    2 Apr 2015 | 4:16 pm
    Part 1: Yeast. ... don't give my any of your nano-brewery bullshit it was made in a bathtub wasn't it? Part 2: Bees? ... those aren't sweaters, that's... just the color of their fur. ... or whatever.  fuzz.  i don't know what bees are made of, do i? Part 3: Geese. feathers and monocles.  right. and nick frost is going to jump right out of this whoopee pie that is really some cake
  • luscious frustration (1/29 title by Daniella)

    2 Apr 2015 | 2:24 pm
    the way your whole heart warms up at the sight of him, making stupid faces at a friendly stray cat when he doesn't know you're watching. fun, cute, you think you can do the same so you make a stupid face at him and the only reply is a scowl when you know he can be just as dumb and fun as you want him to be. but stray cats get all the looks.
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    this is all your fault

  • How a Mermaid Becomes a Daughter

    9 May 2015 | 6:41 pm
    The weeds break under your weight – the ants race across the moss on this river bank, saving what they can. Look at your filthy naked feet, how your middle toe breaks the grass root stem. The feral tabby is walking away from you, his asshole a pink period. Your toenails are ragged, shiny and rough, like drops of milky spittle. The mourning doves clutching the maple branches above us,
  • Still Life with Archaeology

    27 Apr 2015 | 6:38 pm
    It was the year we all discovered our conjoined twins. Some were hiding in our hats. Some clung to our ankles. A few had been pretending to be our mothers. We recognized them by the tattoos on their wrists, the word effigy, which is Latin for copy. We took photos, bought them flip-flops. After a week of holding their tiny hands and washing their hairy bulbous feet, we wondered what to do
  • Still Life with Marble Head and Glove

    26 Apr 2015 | 4:34 pm
    It was the year we lost all our right gloves, so our right hands were chapped and cold. We didn't want to lose our left gloves too, so we wore them all the time, even in our dreams. At night, our gloves are too big, flapping in the wet breeze. They become damp, covered with frost. We slip them off and suck on them, trying to warm them up. I tell you not to swallow yours, so you do,
  • Dear New Jersey,

    19 Apr 2015 | 8:33 am
    With your yellow bird-like people and your people like birds, with your bisected jade skies and your sullen-faced nephews, with your sheets of dark glass replacing lakes, your floating teal dry-cleaners, your saffron clouds clinging to roads that end in staircases, how you cuddle me as we huddle smoking on the whitewashed porch, while the crows call like broken hinges, as our unborn toddlers
  • Under the Rec Room Sofa

    18 Apr 2015 | 5:25 pm
    Questions about home scrawled all over white looseleaf. A solid black square with a triangle on top, the white word “heart” in all caps in the center. Random pictures of birds: chickadees, nuthatches, a kingfisher tucked into apple blossoms. Ads about women's hair cut out and pasted on – a dozen vintage hairstyles involving curls and wigs. All the women are smiling and wearing lipstick,
 
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    Silliman's Blog

  • 22 May 2015 | 12:30 pm

    22 May 2015 | 12:30 pm
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  • 21 May 2015 | 3:30 pm

    21 May 2015 | 3:30 pm
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  • 17 May 2015 | 9:00 pm

    17 May 2015 | 9:00 pm
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  • 10 May 2015 | 9:00 pm

    10 May 2015 | 9:00 pm
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    4 May 2015 | 9:00 pm
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    Poet Hound

  • Sarah Sousa's Split the Crow

    13 May 2015 | 2:58 am
    Sarah Sousa’s collection, Split the Crow, is published by Parlor Press in 2015 and weaves indigenous tales with natural world imagery that burrow deep into your memory long after you read them. Her work has appeared in The Massachusetts Review, Barn Owl Review, and more, she has won the Red Mountain Press Prize for her collection Church of Needles in May 2014. Below I am happy to share a few samples of her recent collection:The Dead’s Bright CopperasCould it be held in a bottle like smokeor liquor; the color of shadow. Could itbe one of the sad animals, one of the instinctual.Sad because…
  • Kristina Marie Darling's Fortress

    27 Jan 2015 | 3:04 am
    Kristina Marie Darling’s Fortress is published by Sundress Publications and showcases the dance of doomed domestic bliss from the perspective of the wife. The main character alludes to the field of dead poppies that welcomes her to her new home. The husband does nothing to coax them to life and creates gardens elsewhere only to fail. The possible greenery is a metaphor for the relationship when the husband disappears after the poppies catch fire and spread disaster to the homestead. The wife is left to determine what to do about the outcome on her own, just as many relationships leave at…
  • Alessandra Bava's They Talk About Death

    13 Jan 2015 | 3:03 am
    Alessandra Bava’s collection, They Talk About Death, is published by Blood Pudding Press. Her collection is surreal, rich, and thoughtful. Inside these pages dwell iconic literary and historical figures, she dips her pen into their universe and extracts her own thoughts from them. It is my pleasure to share a few samples:St. BaudelaireI dream of you at nightentangled in the spires of evil,tied to a living pillar in theprofane sanctuary of Poetry—the spores of wild flowers inyour nostrils, the ecstasy of“the Word” painted on your face& slowly dripping from yourSt. Sebastian-like…
  • Starting with the Last Name Grochalski by John Grochalski

    30 Dec 2014 | 3:03 am
    Published by Coleridge Street Books, John Grochalski’s collection Starting with the Last Name Grochalski is bared teeth, pull-no-punches honest and at times humorous. From daily observations that hold the poet captive to memories stripped down to their essence, Grochalski takes us on a journey of his life observed in detail. Below I am happy to share a few samples:the sunbather’s asswhile she sunbathesin a rose gardenin brooklynher bikini top offher ass barely coveredin a thongthe young boywalks bypointing and smilingat hertugging hisembarrassed mother’s sleevefeeling a new kindof…
  • Kristina Marie Darling's The Sun & The Moon

    2 Dec 2014 | 3:03 am
    The Suns & The Moon, by Kristina Marie Darling, is a haunting and romantic collection centered around a couple who are surrounded by the supernatural. Darling creates a world that struggles with fire and ice, romance and heartbreak, and ultimately envelopes the reader in an enchanting world of her own making. Below I am happy to share some of her work:(I)You began as a small mark on the horizon. Then night & its endless train of ghosts. You led them in, one after the other. They took off their shoes, hung their coats & started looking through the drawers. By then I could hardly speak. I…
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    The Best American Poetry

  • Point Counterpoint: David Lehman and Amy Gerstler on Mad Men Season 7 Series Finale. What will you do tonight now that it's over?

    The Best American Poetry
    24 May 2015 | 7:43 am
    Dear Amy, The finale: Is Om the answer? Let’s start with the montage of images at the end. There’s Don standing before the mighty Pacific Ocean, a smile on his face, possibly devilish, possibly just a smile. Then there’s Don in a group of a dozen men and women in lotus position receiving the blessings of the morning sunlight and chanting Om. The trinity of images is completed with what is arguably the greatest TV commercial of all time: a chorus of multinational kids singing “I’d like to teach the world to sing / in prefect harmony” and “I’d like to give the world a Coke”…
  • The Naked Truth [ by Charles Coe ]

    Charles Coe
    22 May 2015 | 10:44 am
    On a recent trip to New York City I was cruising down a side street off Times Square and stumbled on a sign in front of a Japanese restaurant advertising “Body Sushi.” The deal is that you get to eat sushi and sashimi off the body of a naked woman lying on a table. Maybe you’re thinking, “This sounds like something cooked up by a restaurant marketing guy after martini number six.” That's an excellent guess. But it's wrong; “Nyotaimori” (serving food on the naked body) is a Japanese tradition dating back to Samurai times, where after victory in battle warriors would dine off the…
  • The Poetry Society of America's 2015 Annual Benefit Honors Jenny Holzer

    Charif Shanahan
    21 May 2015 | 8:27 am
    On Tuesday, June 9, 2015, the Poetry Society of America will hold its Annual Benefit at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx, honoring visionary artist Jenny Holzer. The evening includes cocktails and a private viewing of FRIDA KAHLO: Art, Garden, Life, followed by dinner and a celebration of Jenny Holzer's work. Guests are invited to a private tour of Kahlo's art and manuscripts in the Mertz Gallery from 6-6:30 pm. A short walk away, cocktails will be served from 6:30-7:15 pm in the Conservatory where Kahlo's garden and studio are reimagined. Dinner and a tribute to Jenny Holzer follow…
  • Aphorism of the Day: Anthony Trollope

    The Best American Poetry
    21 May 2015 | 8:24 am
    "There is nothing perhaps so generally consoling to a man as a well-established grievance; a feeling of having been injured, on which his mind can brood.” -- Anthony Trollope, Orley Farm
  • TALES OF THE FIFTIES: BALD BOYS ON BIKES [by Alan Ziegler]

    Alan Ziegler
    21 May 2015 | 8:24 am
    I am eight when my head starts to itch soon after we move from Brooklyn to Lynbrook. The Lynbrook doctor says I have a ringworm infection, adding that I probably caught it leaning back in a Brooklyn movie theater seat; he emphasizes Brooklyn. It is highly contagious and I will miss a month of school. As we wait for the doctor to write a prescription, I devise a plan to go to lots of movies and single-headedly turn Lynbrook into a village of scalp-scratchers. I stop smiling when the doctor orders my head shaved so salve can be applied daily. And, a nurse will come to the house every other day…
 
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    Harriet: The Blog

  • Chicago Review’s New Gender Forum Sparks Interest in Collectively Authored ‘No Manifesto’

    Harriet Staff
    22 May 2015 | 12:00 pm
    Over at The Message, Paul Ford highlights a recent publication, the “No Manifesto for Poetry Readings and Listservs and Magazines and ‘Open Versatile Spaces Where Cultural Production Flourishes,’ –after Yvonne Rainer,” a poem written for the Fall 2014–Winter 2015 issue of the Chicago Review’s folio on sexism and sexual assault in literary communities. If you’re not familiar with Rainer’s “No Manifesto” (1965, and very in line with ’60s minimalism), it’s a quick read here; and we’ll return to that momentarily.
  • Letras Latinas’s Ae Hee Lee Interviews Sheila Maldonado, Author of Newly Printed one bedroom solo

    Harriet Staff
    22 May 2015 | 10:00 am
    At Letras Latinas Ae Hee Lee hosts longtime NYC-er, Sheila Maldonado. Maldonado’s debut poetry collection, one-bedroom solo, appears on bookshelves this week. Maldonado is originally from Honduras: she grew up in the Coney Island neighborhood of Brooklyn. Ae Hee Lee is South Korean, but is “Peruvian by heart and memory.” She is an MFA Candidate at Notre Dame. More: Could you share with us your thoughts on family culture and its relationship to individual identity? How do you find these things appear or are explored in your poetry? I think of the book as fragmented biography,…
  • Canvases Pale: A Minstrelsy So Easily Absorbed

    Lillian-Yvonne Bertram
    22 May 2015 | 8:30 am
    And so I would like to make it clear that I am going to talk about race. Again. I would like to make it clear that my writing about race, like myself, is a collection of incomplete moments in time. It is clear, too, without my needing to make it so, that I bring largely the tools of my personal bodily experience, my limited breadth and depth of reading, to this complicated conversation. I come here with complicity, with limits, with the limits of complicity. I come here, perhaps, completely colonized. I do not trust—cannot trust—that I will not injure in my attempts. I am drawn to attempt…
  • On Camera: Tom Lutz Interviews the Legendary Nikki Giovanni!

    Harriet Staff
    22 May 2015 | 7:30 am
    Nikki Giovanni recently gave the keynote address at the 2015 Los Angeles Writers Conference. To tide us over until we can track that down, Los Angeles Review of Books has posted an interview with Giovanni and LARB editor Tom Lutz! Along with penning numerous poetry collections and children’s books, Giovanni is also a pioneer of the spoken word tradition that gave rise to hip-hop. She was a prolific figure in the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and 1970s, and has continued to write and speak on issues like race and gender to this day. In this video interview, LARB editor-in-chief Tom…
  • New Diversity Fellowship at MacDowell Colony

    Harriet Staff
    22 May 2015 | 6:00 am
    An anonymous $200,000 gift will [hopefully] make way for greater diversity at the MacDowell Colony. The Chairman of the MacDowell Colony, Michael Chabon, announced the gift on Monday night. The fellowship is named for Charlotte Sheedy: a literary agent who represented Audre Lorde and Marilyn French. More: The MacDowell Colony’s chairman, Michael Chabon, announced a new literary fellowship Monday night designated to bring diverse voices to the artists’ retreat. The new Charlotte Sheedy Fellowship is designated for writers “representing populations across racial and cultural…
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    Dunstan Carter : Poetry

  • Safe Seat

    dc
    15 May 2015 | 4:48 pm
    He wants to laugh above landslides While the fields flood And the roads complain, He wants to magnify the evermore As raised hopes float Briefly through darkness And the sharpness of his soul Bathes in trivial hindsight And podcasts. In this small village hall Where for moments You could easily feel Like one of the last men on earth Or a new wolf pack’s prey, There’s a golden few seconds, A pop stopped unreal, Why sit and hope storms Are the end, or the beginning Of something concocted By sparrows and whale song? Why wait for the uploaded photos? We’ve gone for the easy option,…
  • A Shelf

    dc
    14 May 2015 | 4:57 pm
    I have a shelf At the base Of one of my Teeth Where sweet words Have crept in And left their Mark. I’ve tried Filling it up With fiction But it’s Sensitive To knowledge. I’ve considered Ornaments And trinkets But it’ll Never hold The weight. So it just sits there Receding, It’s sheen Lost to bleeding, It’s coat Never gleaming If it could sleep It’d be dreaming Of a mouth Far finer than mine.
  • A Spider’s Web

    dc
    30 Apr 2015 | 6:24 pm
    We are creating A spider’s web, We talk in patterns And weave our jokes, We’ve spelt the future And we’re feeding On the trickle down, We suckle on the Y.
  • That Melody Rebellion

    dc
    26 Apr 2015 | 5:46 pm
    A witch once said If you’re over 30 And travelling on a bus You’ve failed at life; But real failure farts It’s melting brass soundtrack When you think of nothing but home, When you insulate your bubble, Provide, invest, protect, Fill jars up with hope And store them underground, Ushering dust And dancing for no one, Only rattling when we dream These random revolutions, These fleeting yawns of chaos, The kind that only happen When the TV turns bleak And starts to pretend Real change is a nightmare Where the bins lie on fire And the clouds shriek all grey. We’re all losers,…
  • We Can’t Believe You’ve Got This Far

    dc
    15 Apr 2015 | 5:20 pm
    You’ve tasted it, Now make it, Get out your Knives and pans, Your plans and dreams, Ingredients and spoons, You’ve only got one hour. Break out on your own, Strive forth with a purpose And sever all ties With those that you love, The ones that you cherish And hold dear. Forget them. They’re Gone. Start your life afresh And take a new name, Live in a new city, Where no one recognises Your face, Where no one knows the things That you’ve been through, Your sorrows and crimes And all those harrowing times You told us about earlier. Become invisible. A ghost. And do your best Not…
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    Robert Peake

  • So Long, Mannahatta!

    Robert Peake
    3 May 2015 | 4:47 am
    “New York, New York, it’s a wonderful town! / The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down.” -“On The Town”, sung by Frank Sinatra So a book tour that began in the medieval English village of Much Wenlock ends in New York. We capped off a feasting-our-senses-through-Manhattan city break with a trip to Walt Whitman’s birthplace on Long Island. I gave my “Tactics for Sneaky Poets” workshop to a receptive and talented local group, and was given a private tour of the house and very room where Uncle Walt was born, before taking to the stage. What a…
  • Dynamite and Its (Poetic) Packaging

    Robert Peake
    1 May 2015 | 6:11 pm
    “A short poem need not be small.” -Marvin Bell On the plane from London to New York, I took in three stunning debuts: Mona Arshi’s sensual, wistful, and surreal poetry; Sarah Fletcher’s imaginative, accomplished, and wry personae; Anja König’s incisive, keenly observed notes on loss — and wrote brief reviews of each for HuffPost Books. You can read the full reviews here. The post Dynamite and Its (Poetic) Packaging appeared first on Robert Peake.
  • How to Lie With Statistics (and Poetry)

    Robert Peake
    29 Apr 2015 | 2:41 am
    “Tell all the truth, but tell it slant” -Emily Dickinson It’s pretty easy, really. Take a four-thousand-year-old universal human tradition — say, poetry — and use statistical data within a relatively tiny segment — say, the last ten years in America — to extrapolate into sweeping conclusions. In a recent article for the Huffington Post, I call out this tactic employed by a Washington Post article to once again predict poetry’s imminent extinction (this time with helpful graphs). This of course…
  • The Book Launch Tour Continues

    Robert Peake
    28 Apr 2015 | 1:27 pm
    What a pleasure it was to launch my debut full-length collection The Knowledge alongside Jo Bell, UK Canal Laureate, who launched her second collection Kith. Coincidence of timing brought us together, but complimentary styles and mutual respect has made touring together a delight. We started in the small Shropshire village of Much Wenlock, birthplace of the Olympics, a place steeped in ancient Mercian history and happily overrun one weekend each year by poets. We read in a modern theatre space to an appreciative and full audience, many of whom were proud supporters of Jo’s excellent 52…
  • Quadrapheme Names The Knowledge a Book of the Month

    Robert Peake
    22 Apr 2015 | 2:52 pm
    Eleanor Franzen, managing editor of Quadrapheme, has picked The Knowledge as one of their best books in April. Particularly notable is that it makes their cut alongside four accomplished prose writers. (Take that, cruelest month.) Quadrapheme is a totally independent literature review site, which receives no funding from either publishers or  the British Arts Council, so ostensibly they say what they like (and don’t) as they please. Franzen notes the collection’s, “mindfulness of the human place within a network of relationships in the natural world, the consequences…
 
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    Best Poems

  • A Short-Cut To Joy: The Dog

    Atul Chandra Sarkar
    23 May 2015 | 8:28 am
    Atul Chandra Sarkar When they spot a dog Anywhere all alone, To hear the dog cry, They pelt a stone. The pain he suffers, Is their source of joy, Some bring a pup, Instead of a toy. When they’re fed-up, From:  Atul Chandra Sarkar Copyright ©:  atul chandra sarkar read more
  • To carry on

    Nada Amine Awar
    23 May 2015 | 3:45 am
    Nada Amine Awar To grow you need to consume Food and water so that you bloom You need clothes and shoes Also a door to close And a book to read You need a seed To plant a tree You need survival From:  An original poem in English by Nada Amine Awar Copyright ©:  Nada Amine Awar read more
  • Tomb Of Desires

    Ehsan Sehgal
    22 May 2015 | 8:56 am
    Ehsan Sehgal She is the spring flower I am the dry leaf On the ending season Of my life It is frightening Perhaps, I fall in love But how I will express that I do not know I am afraidread more
  • The Rain Drops

    Ehsan Sehgal
    22 May 2015 | 8:53 am
    Ehsan Sehgal The rain drops That fall into the gutters Become dirty That fall into the sea Get lost The drops are Not dirty Not small One of that Its importance Its power Sea pride swallows thatread more
  • Perpetual War

    Ehsan Sehgal
    22 May 2015 | 8:50 am
    Ehsan Sehgal It is the fact I think very often dirty That nasty, ugly thoughts Inflame in the Self Ideas are dropping Bombs on the entity Flames rise And then burn the body I take all the imaginationsread more
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    Magma Poetry » Blog

  • The latest edition of Magma is very Street.

    admin
    18 May 2015 | 5:56 am
    Thanks to everyone who came along and supported the launch of Magma 61 at the London Review Bookshop on Friday (15th May). We heard from a great mix of poets including Simon Kew, Geraldine Clarkson, John Wheway and Miranda Peake and our first guest reader, Christine Webb. Christine Webb reading ‘Wasting Time by Looking’ We also had an impromptu turn by Gram Joel Davies who read his poem ‘World Away’ on the vagaries of gap years. And to round off the evening Simon Barraclough, read from his latest collection ‘Sunspots’, including his wonderful poem ‘Brightness’, a dark…
  • Join us for a street party and the launch of Magma 61

    admin
    12 May 2015 | 7:24 am
    We’re launching the latest Magma magazine, M61, this Friday (15th May) at the London Review Bookshop (14, Bury Place, WC1A 2JL). The theme of Magma 61 is ‘The Street’. There will be readings from our guest poets Simon Barraclough and Christine Webb as well as a selection of other poets featured in the edition. Doors open at 6.30pm, readings begin at 7pm. Tickets are FREE for everyone. Book now.
  • Blog Review 42: Lisa Kelly Reviews ‘Imagined Sons’ by Carrie Etter

    Lisa Kelly
    30 Mar 2015 | 8:28 am
    Carrie Etter’s Imagined Sons doesn’t have a jacket that would make me buy the book. It quotes Bernard O’Donoghue: “These are poems of the utmost importance,” while artist Paula Rego’s cover image of St Christina with a swaddled baby on her back is admittedly beautiful, but miserable. Feeling like a recalcitrant pupil having to engage with ‘heavy’ poems I probably won’t enjoy is not an ideal starting point. Flipping to the back cover, however, I am reassured by the smiling face of Etter, a widely-published American expatriate lecturing in creative writing at Bath Spa…
  • Magma Competition celebratory evening at Keats House

    Wes Brown
    16 Mar 2015 | 5:46 am
    Why not join us for a celebratory evening with Magma Competition judge and special guest Jo Shapcott at Keats House on Friday March 27th, 7-8.30pm, when the winners of the 2014/15 Magma Competition will read their prizewinning poems. Venue: Nightingale Room, 10 Keats Grove, Hampstead, London NW3 2RR (nearest station: Hampstead Heath Overground / ten minutes walk from Hampstead tube station) Doors open 6.30 pm. FREE admission includes a glass of wine, but donations welcome. Please RSVP here or contact sales@magmapoetry.com for more information. 
  • Blog Review 41: Katherine Stansfield Reviews ‘The Midlands’ by Tony Williams

    Katherine Stansfield
    6 Mar 2015 | 2:13 am
    Tony Williams’ second collection, The Midlands, begins on a rather gloomy note, with the first line proclaiming, ‘The Midlands are crying’. But the detail of what provokes the despair makes it convincing, heartfelt and all the more pervasive: They cry in the carparks of aerodromes, deep in the cellars         of buildings that used to be bookshops. They cry over fences, at steam-engine rallies.         They cry over dogs and bags of granulated sugar. The poem tells us that ‘Here is neither one thing nor the…
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    Poet Mom

  • Summer Reading

    January
    23 May 2015 | 12:58 pm
    These are books I’ve accumulated since March. Most I have not read, but some didn’t get my full attention.  In alpha order:1.     The Light of the World, Elizabeth Alexander2.       Why God Is a Woman, Nin Andrews3.       Do Not Rise, Beth Bachmann4.       The Last Two Seconds, Mary Jo Bang 5.       We Come Elemental, Tamiko Beyer6.       The New Testament, Jericho Brown7.      …
  • Confession Tuesday

    January
    19 May 2015 | 6:15 pm
    Happy Tuesday, folks.These are my new favorite pencils--the first one says it all. I'm so tempted to send my kids to school with them. ****My desire to be productive seems to be returning. I haven't felt the need or urge to write every day, but I've been diligently working on manuscript #3. I'm revising peons without worrying too much about publishing individual poems or who will produce the next book. Right now, I have 59 poems--some of them long. And I keep adding to it when I know I need to whittle them down. For now, I'm happy with this batch of poems. It could be my best…
  • WordsWest Recap

    January
    16 May 2015 | 2:53 am
    "On April 15, 2015, poets Kelli Russell Agodon and January Gill O'Neil joined WordsWest for "Death and Taxes: The National Poetry Month Special" with poems ranging from okra to Oprah to the ephemeral nature of life and what our children will say about us in their tell-all books."****Thanks to WordsWest for hosting Kelli and me! Such a fun evening of poetry. Go to their site for the complete recap, including audio and video.
  • Franz Wright: A Remembrance

    January
    15 May 2015 | 9:11 am
    Here's a photo I took of Franz Wright reading at the Longfellow House in 2011 with Wesley McNair. In fact, I'm taking the pic over Wesley's shoulder. I went back to check my blog post about this reading, and, as I recall, they both seemed to enjoy talking to one another as well as the audience. I think Franz was in remission at this time, certainly he was well enough to read.Well, what to say. I am saddened by his loss. In the Boston area, we've lost one of our most charismatic literary figures. I didn't know him well at all. But as an admirer I have been following his career since 2004. I…
  • Confession Tuesday

    January
    12 May 2015 | 8:30 am
    No more pencils no more books!I confess I’m glad the semester is over. It was tougher than it needed to be and I have no one to blame but myself. I held onto work longer than I should have, which created an avalanche of poems and short stories to grade. But I did a few things right, including mentoring four students on their poetry theses. I also received a round of applause. One of my students gave me a gift—that’s never happened. I keep saying I need to use the summer to get the fall semester in shape. Now I have to follow through. ****Jan’s To-Do’s This Week- Operation Misery…
 
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    tweetspeakpoetry.com

  • Loki Goodness Campaign, 6

    Sara Barkat
    22 May 2015 | 7:16 am
    Sometimes we publish fiction here at Tweetspeak Poetry. And we definitely give a place to student writing. This co-written series qualifies as both. If you’re a fan of The Avengers or the Thor movies, you’ll be more prepared to enjoy The Loki Goodness Campaign. If not, you’ll still recognize a fun story when you see it. For those who don’t follow the Thor and Loki characters, it might suffice to say that Thor is the good guy and Loki is the bad guy. Except? There really are many people who campaign for Loki’s inherent goodness. This phenomenon inspired our student writers to come…
  • Top 10 Dip Into Poetry Lines

    LW Lindquist
    21 May 2015 | 5:00 am
    We began a daily sharing over Every Day Poems on Twitter, inviting you to take a dip into poetry with us.  Perhaps for you, the poem could be a pool. You could take a dip, a refreshing soak of your arms, legs, and lashes. Or maybe you’re the more hesitant type, dipping in only a toe to test the waters. You might even be one who skips the pool and dips your pinky finger into a jar to savor the honey of a poem all morning.  Or maybe one is not enough, and you order your ice cream cones with a triple dip. However you do your dipping, we invite you to keep taking your daily dip…
  • Literary Tour: Mariposa Museum & History Center

    Dolly Lee
    20 May 2015 | 5:00 am
    “If you don’t know history, then you don’t know anything. You are a leaf that doesn’t know it is part of a tree.” —Michael Crichton After a short visit to Yosemite, we stop by the quaint town of Mariposa. We discover the Mariposa Museum and History Center located on 5110 Jesse Street, just off the main thoroughfare. A bark tepee and several pieces of mining equipment (in varying states of rust) can be found on the grounds around the museum. Yellow daffodils lilt in a terracotta pot. It was first established in 1957 but the current building was constructed in 1970. Ruth, a spry 91…
  • Poetic Voices: Allison Carter and Maggie Smith

    Glynn Young
    19 May 2015 | 2:00 am
    Allison Carter explores echoes and space, calling them ghosts, while poet Maggie Smith creates fables for contemporary readers. In her latest poetry collection Here Versus Elsewhere, Allison Carter tackles the idea of ghosts, not in the conventional understanding but in the sense of echoes of spaces or white space, the ghosts of what has happened that continue to shape the experience of the here and now. Experimenting with both length (some long, some short) and form (one is entirely prose poems), Carter explores these ghosts of sound and shape in 49 poems. One example is “Intimacy, These…
  • Photo Play 2: Heroes and Villains

    Heather Eure
    18 May 2015 | 5:00 am
    In photography, the interplay of light and shadow can be used to create a graceful dance or a dreamlike scene. On the other hand, the stark contrast can communicate a mood, ambivalent or cruel. As you see, the photographer’s desire determines the result. Creativity is a powerful gift. Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s photo play and poetry prompt. Here is an evocative poem from Richard we enjoyed: Threads of light tatter the lace silhouetted along December mountains, like rising froth from dark waves. And a single bird, free of this dark cloth speaks for us with its…
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    cottonbombs

  • Why I Challenged The Prince To A Dance Off

    cottonbombs
    17 May 2015 | 9:42 pm
    We shit we fuck we love we hate we are all the same we rise to poetry we’ve all peed where we shouldn’t have peed we sink to desperation we lose ourselves to music and to anger we need the sun we build calendars to the moon and to emperors whom we are enslaved to two thousand years dead still we look to the stars we are selfish we are giving we need to need we need to pray knowing our God could be anywhere and everywhere too busy to worry about us today.  
  • Because I Know Nothing

    cottonbombs
    29 Apr 2015 | 10:30 pm
    Because I know everything I know nothing cause Socrates said he knew nothing and he was the smartest of us all and if he knew nothing except the something that he knew nothing really what hope do I have to think I know what I think arrogant bastard me or he cause I think I know more than bloody Socrates.
  • My Drunk Abusive Muse

    cottonbombs
    26 Apr 2015 | 8:47 pm
    I’m writing this with a gun to my head don’t worry it’s not my gun I’m not suicidal I’m a hostage and my terrorist wants me to write a poem I hope she likes it I’d worry but English isn’t her first language so maybe she’ll find meaning in the meaningless and I’ll live to write again.
  • Cracks in the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

    cottonbombs
    19 Apr 2015 | 7:34 pm
    How many reach heaven dissatisfied? “It’s too clean here! “too perfect!” They cry Does even heaven have flaws to keep it unpredictable? I pray to find out I pray to be less ungrateful.
  • Jackie Robinson Day

    cottonbombs
    16 Apr 2015 | 7:37 pm
    I love Jesus though I’m no Christian I like my Jesus manly not so saintly as the Christians depict him to be turn the other cheek, sure but at what cost my favorite baseball player is Jackie Robinson the Jesus of baseball the hell he took to open the door for everybody when Jackie signed on to The Dodgers he asked: “Do you want a player without the guts to fight back?” Branch Rickey responded: “No, I want a player with guts not to fight back.” That’s Jackie. That’s Jesus. That’s what makes them saints Jesus threw the money lenders out of the…
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    Dark Matter

  • New Duende Project track…

    Tony Brown
    24 May 2015 | 4:35 am
    Thought you folks might like to hear the latest track from my poetry and music group, The Duende Project.  On this cut you’re hearing the guitar work of Steven Lanning-Cafaro, who founded the project with me nine years ago.  Hope you enjoy it! Trinity Tango This is part of a larger project we’re very excited about.  I’ll share more about it as I can over the next couple of weeks. Here’s the text: Trinity Tango I have a black dog who once was well fed; I have a black dog  who used to be fat. Now he’s meatless, he’s weightless, a hard-beaten skin drum,…
  • Gloat

    Tony Brown
    22 May 2015 | 5:40 pm
    Washed in blood, crusted over, shivering, sleeping, torn by adversarial wind, breaking down in salty weather… I like this so much. I like it too much, sing an exaggerated song of ennobling agony, offering it as passport into your circle — giving you a chance to offer a comforting word, to dip into your cache of care and try to ease me.  Try to ease me long enough to gloat about how my pain disappeared under your good hands and words. I live for that. I live for how distant I can get from you even as you think I’ll have to stay, will need to stay.  You forget what I am,…
  • Otherness

    Tony Brown
    22 May 2015 | 12:46 pm
    on bad days he hates waking up to another round of attempting to find peace in each day’s casual violence. in his sleep he can be no longer sunken in otherness. he reimagines himself as just one of the guys, or better than that, he becomes a welcome part of a world he makes, one he longs for, one that lasts past dawn. he hates waking up most days. there are some days, though, where hope intrudes into his mild and hellish routine for a few hours, sometimes; long enough for him to think of otherness as a gift again, the way he has always wanted it to be seen by those he calls others.
  • Blocked

    Tony Brown
    22 May 2015 | 3:43 am
    when beginning  do not start with “I” even if this is about you hesitate to start with “He” or “She” as you don’t know enough to stand behind the choice you could start with “They” but wouldn’t that be presumptuous speaking for them with no confidence that this will speak for them you could look away from human experience entirely and boldly open with the voice of a horse a flatworm or fish a rose ready to begin its petal-molt no one will question you as no one can question any of those to ask if it’s indeed their truth you…
  • Crying Out

    Tony Brown
    19 May 2015 | 3:23 pm
    By the banks of a flood we sat and wept — by the rivers of Babylon, by the shores of the mighty  Mississippi. From the rooftops of a drowned city. Near the edge of a rising tide.   We sat and wept and then cried out: we were promised dry land; where is it now? We were  promised safety, where is it now? We were promised lives  and now are being told this is not feasible, we only ever asked for lives and now are being told these are not practical, were promised  that promises made were to be kept and now we find that all the air was fouled from the moment it left their mouths and…
 
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    Psalms and Psychoses

  • The Government Hand in Hollywood

    Jeremiah Castelo
    4 May 2015 | 4:19 pm
    The Government Hand in Hollywood ft. Lenon Honor - Lenon Honor interviewed on Freeman TV addressing the "Global Motion Picture Stage" The post The Government Hand in Hollywood appeared first on Psalms and Psychoses.
  • Am I a Voice Among Truth Seekers, or a Noise Among the Masses?

    Jeremiah Castelo
    13 Apr 2015 | 3:38 pm
    While having a conversation with a friend about the coming economic collapse, the petrodollar, Monsanto, and the current state of the world in general, I was struck. The post Am I a Voice Among Truth Seekers, or a Noise Among the Masses? appeared first on Psalms and Psychoses.
  • The Wild Goats of the Rock – Epic Instrumental Music

    Jeremiah Castelo
    10 Apr 2015 | 9:11 am
    The post The Wild Goats of the Rock – Epic Instrumental Music appeared first on Psalms and Psychoses.
  • Photos of Intramuros

    Jeremiah Castelo
    10 Mar 2015 | 1:52 pm
    Built by the Spanish as a fortress in the 16th century and then used as a prison by the Japanese during WWII, Intramuros is almost as haunting as it is beautiful. The walls are colored with age, the floors are covered with the pressure of the thousands of pairs of feet that walked on it, both the booted and the barefooted. The post Photos of Intramuros appeared first on Psalms and Psychoses.
  • Fire Dancers of White Beach at Puerto Galera

    Jeremiah Castelo
    7 Mar 2015 | 8:02 pm
    Every night at an hour past dusk, when all that remains of the orange sky had long fallen behind the horizon, the locals of white beach gather in the sand. The post Fire Dancers of White Beach at Puerto Galera appeared first on Psalms and Psychoses.
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    Miklos Arany

  • Letter to Myself

    MA
    5 May 2015 | 10:50 pm
    Remember when you miss the thrill of angry flight That it is always winged by anger and followed by A fall that has no end but being broken on the rocks. Remember balance, the symmetries of affection, And the small weights that lend you equilibrium. Remember the deep cycles of discontent, drowning On dry land in the open air, and take the burden Of a life raft, irritating and inconvenient but buoyant When you boat risks sinking and the rocks loom Large and jagged as the night with its illusion of Endless dark and final cold, predators all around. You can learn to sleep again, and even dream.
  • ἔξοδος

    MA
    27 Apr 2015 | 9:07 pm
    Life is a knife that trims away the daily dead Flesh like a hunter cleans his kill sharp as glass. Everything was possible and love was like a god. The last of seven, darkness falls soft as snow Or autumn leaves, quietly taking everything.
  • Murrain

    MA
    5 Apr 2015 | 3:49 am
    Fever fraying at the slender tether Between me Earth, preying on me Like a hungry vulture eviscerating Little left of what I am, nearing zero. The bridges I’d imagined are falling Away in this burnt twilight, arcing Spans resolving into motes of dust And deep sighs of further resignation. The end is always looming, sharp And quick or dull and laborious as A gradual loss of hope and retreat Into memorial music all of shadows. There are better ways to squander Life than this, afraid to lie, to deny, To believe in, to shield oneself, only To be beaten by an inaginary sword.
  • Good I

    MA
    30 Mar 2015 | 10:49 pm
    The lone figure balanced on the horizon Like a tightrope walker, sand filling his shoes, Tide rising, knows that all is lost; surely As there is a God, there can be no escape. The past is a great wave rolling into tomorrow And stations beyond, flattening future days Like cigarette ash under a heavy heel. Faith in the negative is always justified, But today is still today, a moment before The end of days, time enough for pleasures Small even in number, but still bright sparks Against the humdrum black of sure night. Time enough to love, to be embraced, To remember the best of times, gone Or…
  • Sugar Sweet

    MA
    19 Mar 2015 | 5:20 pm
    Stop feeling sorry for yourself; Always look on the bright side; Jesus saves; things can only. I feel sorry for everyone who Hasn’t succeeded at forgetting. Life is contingent, magicless, A candle burning by an open Window beneath a field of stars. There are wolves in my heart. We’re all innately good, but It’s unreachable in a dark Well of hunger and a dark Night of fear, deep beyond Any fathomable depth, lost. I more than most could have Been so many things, done So much, but guided by decoys Find myself outside all walls In a trackless desert, alone, Understanding all,…
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    Gatsby's Abandoned Children

  • Nostrovia! Poetry’s 2015 Chapbook Contest: Cover Art + Reviews + Presale Updates!!!

    Jeremiah Walton
    21 May 2015 | 2:04 pm
    Originally posted on Nostrovia! Tavern: GREETINGS, FRIENDS! There’s been a ton of hustle these last few weeks and I wanted to share some huge updates regarding our 2015 Chapbook Contest! First of all, we wanted to share these GORGEOUS covers designed by Kyle Harvey (editor of Fruita Pulp), who has worked very hard for our three winners, echoing their moods and imagery. Behold! “Bird Lizard Horse” by August Smith “Moon Facts” by Bob Schofield “Juliet (II)” by Sarah Xerta Incredible work–again, huge props to Kyle Harvey!! Secondly–we are GREATLY interested in obtaining…
  • From Tucson to the Grand Canyon

    Jeremiah Walton
    18 May 2015 | 7:19 pm
    Arizona’s northern desert wears a patchy jacket of hand me down foliage cast off by thousands of years of silence Half baked mountains observe the asphalt arteries we are pumping thru Oi, we’re on the run on the run from boredom and boredom’s burning coat of years trailing along the experiential embers that shine light from your belly illuminating the naked buried in your skin. There’s a prickly pear beer top in my pocket & thousands of miles carrying the quiet of obsidian yet to scratch the record player mind. Tagged: arizona, creative writing, poem, poetry
  • 2 minutes of self worth reflection in Vegas

    Jeremiah Walton
    18 May 2015 | 7:15 pm
    I’ve got 1000 black cats in my pockets just for you I’ve got 32 cents worth of blood not mine in my pockets just for you I’ve given my pockets pockets to be able to hold more even though I have nothing more to give them My home back East was pulled out from under my feet I guess I’ve shed the oogle from my skin Wiped away a grin for a pile of teeth Wandering Vegas gumming my pipe I am wearing a leather jacket stolen in Tucson Grand Canyon hail pierced thru my cow girl hat, a gift from an ex I stuck a raven feather in, and called my adventure hat. I want to say sunrise…
  • The desert wants your blood

    Jeremiah Walton
    29 Jan 2015 | 4:26 pm
    Tucson, Arizona, has been Nostrovia! Poetry’s and my base for the past month.  We’ve gone from sleeping under a bridge, to a yurt, to a house, our small family slowly growing and cooperating to survive joyfully. Tucson’s community is open arms.  Tucson welcomed us with warm meals and kindness. Bottlecap Press, Nostrovia!, and I organized the Mongolian Yurt Poetry Reading.  ~80 people attended the reading.  Steve Roggenbuck, Neeko Ford, Lost Boys Chris & Romeo, Melanie Madden, and myself, featured after an open mic and Christmas tree burning. Doing the 4th Ave thing…
  • ATTN: Indie Lit Community – “Great 2015 Preview” [list-in-progress]

    Jeremiah Walton
    2 Jan 2015 | 11:29 am
    ATTN: Indie Lit Community – “Great 2015 Preview” [list-in-progress]. Tagged: 2015, author, authors, books, culture, indie, indie lit, lit, literature, publish, publishers, publishing, small press, writers, writing
 
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    Poetic Hope

  • What should you really fear?

    23 May 2015 | 5:55 am
    This poem tries to express the real things that we need to learn to fear in life. Trust in GodRead more »I now have two compilation volumes available. You can find them here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Simple-Request-Poems/dp/1507658028 http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems/dp/1492992933
  • Tomorrow's View on Yesterday

    22 May 2015 | 7:09 pm
    This poem explores those deep feelings that allow a person to have a love that continues to grow day by day. When Tomorrow DawnsRead more »I now have two compilation volumes available. You can find them here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Simple-Request-Poems/dp/1507658028 http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems/dp/1492992933
  • Friday Morning Thoughts

    22 May 2015 | 6:28 am
    I hope this gives you something to think about.I now have two compilation volumes available. You can find them here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Simple-Request-Poems/dp/1507658028 http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems/dp/1492992933
  • Building Hearts

    21 May 2015 | 5:48 pm
    This poem was written for some of my friends who got married the day it was written. It was interesting having this poem come to my mind. It tries to tell the tale of the conversation that might exist between their hearts. The Song of Two HeartsRead more »I now have two compilation volumes available. You can find them here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Simple-Request-Poems/dp/1507658028 http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems/dp/1492992933
  • Thursday Morning Thoughts

    21 May 2015 | 6:18 am
    I hope this gives you something to think about.I now have two compilation volumes available. You can find them here http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Simple-Request-Poems/dp/1507658028 http://www.amazon.com/Poets-Heart-Love-Poems/dp/1492992933
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    Cute Love Poems for Her

  • The Sleeping Beauty Love Poem

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    18 May 2015 | 1:24 pm
    Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile– Tho’ shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o’er her neck of snow: Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks What most I wish–and fear to know! She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Her fair hands folded on her breast: –And now, how like a saint she sleeps! A seraph in the realms of rest! Sleep on secure! Above controul Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its…
  • Living Fire of Love

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    12 Sep 2014 | 4:00 am
    O living fire of love that tenderly wounds my soul in its deepest center ! As you are no longer elusive just as if you want, Breaks the fabric of this sweet encounter ! Oh cautery soft! Oh gracious sore ! Oh soft hand ! Oh delicate touch that tastes of eternal life and pays every debt ! Killing, living death has bartered . O lamps of fire in whose splendors the deep caverns of feeling , it was dark and blind, with strangers beauties give color and light with your beloved! How gentle and loving wake in my heart where in secret you dwell alone , and in your sweet breathing well and full of…
  • The First Kiss Of Love

    Robyn-Dale Samuda
    10 Sep 2014 | 3:54 am
    Away with your fictions of flimsy romance, Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove; Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love. Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love. If Apollo should e’er his assistance refuse, Or the Nine be dispos’d from your service to rove, Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the Muse, And try the effect, of the first kiss of love. I…
  • 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…
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    A Blog By Rohan Bhardwaj

  • Betrayal Girl - A Love Story

    rohan bhardwaj
    21 May 2015 | 1:40 pm
    Image Credit : LinkWe all love stories, who don't. Love is always in the air, each day we either see love break-ups or patch-ups that we feel it is too much sometimes.You have been in love, either you might be lucky to sustain it till now, or it might have been over. Past tense, it hurts. Often times we move ahead, some of us quickly, others slowly, but in the end we should all catch up and have a healthy love life.Loving is not bad, loving the wrong person is. How are you supposed to know that? There is no 100 percent guarantee you will find it. You have to trust your instincts and make…
  • A Poem On Technology

    rohan bhardwaj
    16 May 2015 | 2:41 pm
    These days we are only getting better as we are getting worse. Technologies are moving faster than ever before, we are capable of doing things so awesome that we are getting too much involved in it. From smart mobile phones to moving dustbins, many new tech have catch our eyes.Definitely moving ahead and making progress is necessary, if it is affecting us in negative way then it is bad. We need understand not all the new tech should be adopted. If it is, then there should be defined limit by us.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • 5 Things Keeping You Poor

    rohan bhardwaj
    14 May 2015 | 1:13 pm
    I wrote an article last week on how to live a rich life, though it helps you achieve your goal by having a clear path, many of us would be trapped in poor mindset. If you think you are not one of them, then read below. You might find your weakness here.This is the not the complete list, but the most common ones which seems to be in majority of us, including me. We do these things like our second nature and thus we don't realize how it impacts us.Lets dig more of it.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • How To Live Rich Life?

    rohan bhardwaj
    9 May 2015 | 7:37 pm
    Image Credit : LinkGrowing up in a middle class family who is tight on budget, money has always been an issue with me. Wanting more money is my ultimate goal as with more money comes more lavish lifestyle and happiness too. Without money there comes hardships in many cases.Although many emotional happiness doesn't come from money, having enough money will keep us at ease and help us in getting through things much faster.We all want to live a rich life. The problem is we are not trying hard enough to do so. We think a magical wand will come and help us, the harsh truth is you have to take…
  • 6 Amazing Health Benefits Of Water-Melon

    rohan bhardwaj
    6 May 2015 | 2:52 pm
    Get your dose of refreshment with watermelon juice, pieces. Although the basic ingredient for watermelon is sugar and water, they help you in almost unimaginable ways. Water constitute majority of our body and sugar and salt are the lifelines for sending messages across bodies.Watermelon has both of it. Instead of going for a water refreshment, go for a watermelon juice, this way you would experience a rich enhancement of taste too along with it.Okay, it is good for beating the heat, what else?I have compiled 6 health benefits of this awesome fruit. You better eat it.Read more » © copyright…
 
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    Poetry Lobby

  • Puzzle Pieces

    poetrylobby1
    24 May 2015 | 8:08 am
    In a world of neglected children with misguided dreams Where to trust someone, is more complex than it seems Though love can be good, it can make us blind Just another lesson you’ll learn with the test of time With each broken heart, you loose valuable puzzle pieces Talking doesn’t help, when it leaves you speechless Left dodging unexpected blows I don’t know, how this true love thing really goes..
  • Spoken Word Poem | Different Times

    poetrylobby1
    25 Feb 2015 | 7:17 am
    Expections the same, In different times How we have failed to evolve, it blows my mind Somewere, a kid is being forced to go to college The explanation we’re given by our parents is, to get get a good job, you have to get the knowledge But what they don’t tell us is, there are college graduates working at Wal-Mart, McDonald’s & KFC We live in different times, is what we consistently, fail to see This is a monumental mistake, that has cost us dearly As the financial bubble were in, continues growing yearly When it burst, the harder it will send us crashing down Like a…
  • One Last Time | Poem

    poetrylobby1
    22 Feb 2015 | 7:05 pm
    I want to be with you, dont ask me why I want to hold your hand, under the starlight sky Trust me baby, just one last time I love you woman, thats the bottom line Take a leap of faith, as we watch the falling moon An aproaching apocalypse, we’ll soon be doomed War, lust, poverty, inflation, drugs, capitalism & greed One last time, can please have peace Take a trip, some place we’ve never seen Do all those things, we once could only dream So until our clocks have failed to wind Can you do these things with me, one last time Poetry Lobby Store:  Click Here
  • I’m Going On A Diet | Spoken Word Poem

    poetrylobby1
    20 Feb 2015 | 9:50 pm
    I’m going On A Diet Five words at the start of the year, people often say but never do We start, but but do we make it through Im going on a diet Not just physical, also a metaphorical one So I will be stopping the things, that should not be done No more late night snacks, or ice cream cones No more lying down next to my telephone I’m going on a diet Can’t stop now, I have to much to loose No more waking up and pressing snooze I’m counting my calories, while cutting back That means friends and family, who aren’t on the same level im at I’m going on a diet…
  • The Gateway Drug | Spoken Word Poem

    poetrylobby1
    18 Feb 2015 | 7:45 pm
    From  that moment I had my first experience I was hooked on poetry, something serious It’s the gateway drug, for your thoughts and expressions Knowing, in those times we fail, is when we learn life lessons Never be afraid, to take a chance To whatever music life plays, we have to dance Always be flexible, and maneuver quick Be prepared to jump, from a sinking ship Poetry, is the gateway drug that got me started I was destine to do this, before I departed Sometimes it gets away, but then I relapse Like a junkie with a needle, how I keep coming back My words may stagger, but I never slur…
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    Powerful Views

  • You’re a Golden Sun

    Karan Gandhi
    20 May 2015 | 9:49 am
    Your golden rays, They always amaze No words to praise, Your supernatural glaze. You light our dawn, A new day’s born We finish our yawns At the sunny green lawns. You continually slog Be it mist or fog, No attention you hog What a thankless job! These mountains and skies They shine through your eyes, The lows & the highs You bestow at sun-rise. You bless us with heat Your glimmer so neat, In by-lanes & streets You confer so sweet. Red, orange and yellow They unite to say hello, Your touch so mellow You’re a jolly-good fellow! During monsoons and winters We miss your splinters,…
  • The Wooden Ledge

    Karan Gandhi
    18 Apr 2015 | 5:29 am
    I stood at the edge Of a wooden ledge, Gazing in infinity Looking for divinity! My attention drew To the mountain blue, Time swiftly flew In the scenic view! The lush green trees The enchanting breeze, Life got me to freeze That moment I seized! I don’t want to go Back to the show, I coveted the glow Those moments to grow! I wanted to stay With nature play, Away from the fray Underneath the rays! With responsibilities steep And commitments to keep, I sat in my jeep It was time to sleep! I looked up high To the transparent skies, With tears in my eyes I said good bye! I’ll surely return…
  • What Color Am I?

    Karan Gandhi
    6 Mar 2015 | 5:23 am
                  What color am I? I blinked an eye Can you notice the hue Do you have any clue?   Come close and see You must look at me Come discern my shade Look what’s portrayed.   You’re green he said No, you are red He’s blue someone shouted It’s yellow undoubted!   They grumbled they fought Their heads went hot They quarreled and teased Their opponents squeezed.   I looked with dismay They were immersed in fray Not ready to blink They just wouldn’t think!   I prayed, please halt It’s all my fault! Come close,…
  • Just look at me Smile

    Karan Gandhi
    3 Feb 2015 | 6:26 am
    The trials & tribulations The never ending inflation The tension the worry Amidst the flurry! The sickness, this disease The cough & the sneeze Where shall I flee? To set myself free! O, what shall I do? In this world untrue O, where shall I go? For life to bestow! They said, just smile Try it for a while Just say ‘Cheese’ And you’ll find all your keys! Does it work, I enquired Is it really required? I was in depression Asked irrelevant questions! But try, I must Lest life turn to rust Let’s give it a shot To untie this knot. I arose and smiled Squealed like a child I…
  • Let Life Take Over…

    Karan Gandhi
    15 Jan 2015 | 11:30 pm
    The pressures this trauma The anxiety and the drama, The fast local trains Humongous traffic in by-lanes. Where should I run To get a glimpse of the sun, Where must I flee For fresh air to breathe! At the sea shore My heart I pour, My legs you caress You speak to my stress. A tinge of white and blue Kissing the golden hue, Be it morning or night What a pretty sight! Come touch the sea It’s glory you must see, Come and surrender Feel the breeze tender. Within the wet sands In natures hands, Come, look at the grace Let nature embrace. Far from the towers The political powers, Distant from the…
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    Amazing World of Poetry

  • Come unto spiritual tormentor

    24 May 2015 | 2:55 am
     Come unto me free, liberated souls  and I will make you my slaves. Come unto me all of you who bear heavy burdens of life and I afflict you in the depth of sorrow. Take my unbearable yoke of bloodsucking and put thorny chains of total obedience on your mind.This work by Igor Marinovsky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
  • Holy Inhumane Sign

    23 May 2015 | 1:37 am
     Under the blessing of holy inhumane sign guilty feeling of conscience is choked, war are peppered by criminal justification,  Environment of the living is tortured by demons of thoughtless accumulated productivity   This work by Igor Marinovsky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
  • Masked life

    19 May 2015 | 10:53 am
     Evil life of greedy corrupted thief is masked by support of charity and giving some alms to the poor.This work by Igor Marinovsky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
  • Dictatorial democracy

    17 May 2015 | 6:56 am
     Tyranny of majority over minority is dictatorial democracy inside the womb of fake common consent of untrue nation.This work by Igor Marinovsky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
  • Republic of absurd

    14 May 2015 | 9:55 am
     In the republic of absurd authority and rebels are fighting for the signs and symbols of nothingness and honor unearthly stony  figures of powerless strength.This work by Igor Marinovsky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
 
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