Poetry

  • Most Topular Stories

  • tonk and waterfront, black line fade, unbuilt hotel, that union hall by Fred Moten

    Poem of the Day
    Poetry Foundation
    24 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    by Fred Moten
  • In Seoul Tagores lamp is still lit by a Korean poetess and author

    Poetry News
    25 Nov 2014 | 1:30 pm
    Kim Yang-shik's eyes sparkled behind those stylish glasses while talking about the letter she received from Shantiniketan's Visva-Bharati university earlier this year. The university, according to her, had finally in principle given the green signal to her opening a Korea Bhawan in the town synonymous with Rabindranath Tagore.
  • Why I write

    bentlily
    Samantha Reynolds
    24 Nov 2014 | 2:48 am
    I don’t write to remember that when we drove past the electrical tower you said look, it’s the Eiffel Tower I write to leave crumbs so I can find my way back if I need to at the end for a moment to inhale that time when my life was big and new.
  • St. Paul's Academy - Change is in the Air

    IndieFeed: Performance Poetry
    24 Nov 2014 | 12:00 am
    St. Paul's Academy on IndieFeed Performance Poetry.  Show number 1418.
  • be less literal

    Wade on Birmingham » Daily Haiku
    Wade Kwon
    23 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    A wordy world of similes and metaphors slams into orbit. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
 
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    Poetry News

  • In Seoul Tagores lamp is still lit by a Korean poetess and author

    25 Nov 2014 | 1:30 pm
    Kim Yang-shik's eyes sparkled behind those stylish glasses while talking about the letter she received from Shantiniketan's Visva-Bharati university earlier this year. The university, according to her, had finally in principle given the green signal to her opening a Korea Bhawan in the town synonymous with Rabindranath Tagore.
  • Clive James on his new poetry book and his distinctive voice

    25 Nov 2014 | 3:16 am
    MARK COLVIN: Clive James - as a recent ABC TV series underlined - is one of the greatest living creative Australians, but for how long? As he told me in a long interview back in 2012, his lung condition means that he's dying, and that he'll never see his beloved birthplace again. But he has a huge record of achievement behind him, and he's still writing.
  • Final Poetry on the Loose features founder William Seaton

    25 Nov 2014 | 12:11 am
    The featured reader will be William Seaton as it was in the series' first show 21 years ago.
  • Maple Ridge and Pitt Meadows What's On: Published Novermber 25, 2014

    24 Nov 2014 | 10:04 pm
    The TIMES publishes a comprehensive calendar of events, meetings, support services and more happening in and around Pitt Meadows and Maple Ridge. If you wish to submit a non-profit entry for consideration, please email it at least 10 days in advance to editorial@mrtimes.com.
  • Prescribing a story? Medicine meets literature in "narrative medicine"

    24 Nov 2014 | 5:57 pm
    In the November issue of The Lancet , Chris Adrian , MD, postulates about what might be called "narrative medicine." How do stories and poems alter our experience of caregiving, illness, and suffering? Does literature "help"? Adrian, who is trained in both creative writing and medicine, thinks that artistic expressions of experience do bring something to clinical care, whether care is experienced on the giving or the receiving end.
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    bentlily

  • Why I write

    Samantha Reynolds
    24 Nov 2014 | 2:48 am
    I don’t write to remember that when we drove past the electrical tower you said look, it’s the Eiffel Tower I write to leave crumbs so I can find my way back if I need to at the end for a moment to inhale that time when my life was big and new.
  • The meat section

    Samantha Reynolds
    23 Nov 2014 | 7:35 am
    We’re at the grocery store and you point to the meat section what animal is that, mama it’s been a long time since I ate meat but I can tell it’s a cow but cows aren’t pink you say this quite loud and for some reason I feel the need to whisper the part about the blood and then I smile at the man beside me who buys the lamb and doesn’t smile back you ask me what he bought so I tell you and you want to know which one is the chicken and do they sell roosters too and where are the pigs so we look at all of it up close pressed under plastic skin and your chin starts to quiver what if…
  • Allergic to shy

    Samantha Reynolds
    22 Nov 2014 | 12:52 pm
    You’re wearing a black wig and a piece of felt around your head as a witch hat you had big plans to dress up for our trip to the library to show the librarian that you were pretending to be the character in the book but then you realized that everyone would see you and you say I’m allergic to shy I laugh which makes you stomp and throw the shoe horn you were using as a wand so I apologize right into your ribs which I tell you is a shortcut to your heart and I ask you where you learned about being allergic you remember mama at the aquarium that girl told us she was allergic to selfish.
  • My four-year-old poetry teacher

    Samantha Reynolds
    25 Sep 2014 | 9:50 pm
    My brain is jammed with the noise of errands and the poem knows it half-done hiding away in the quiet of my ribcage waiting for a way back in which is how I came to see how the noticing pours out of you blunt and new like the colour of the girl’s hair in your drawing that is neither brown nor blonde and you tell me it is like a paper bag which of course it is and how you describe grandpa’s face as mushy and that a frog would feel like a bird if you held it tight in your hand and how nuns look like Red Riding Hood in black and white and how library books smell like closets so I kept asking…
  • Working from home

    Samantha Reynolds
    15 Sep 2014 | 9:19 pm
    I have a meeting with a graphic designer who I also consider a friend but still I text her to say I’m running late and she should come right in and then it occurs to me that she might hear the hum of my breast pump from downstairs so I text her to tell her what I’m up to I add a lot of exclamation marks to make it seem funny or at least less awkward but when I read it over it appears as frenetic as I feel then the baby wakes up early so we try to make her happy by letting her chew the graphic designer’s pen while we try to unpack a conversation out of a knot of interruptions I make her…
 
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    Wade on Birmingham » Daily Haiku

  • be less literal

    Wade Kwon
    23 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    A wordy world of similes and metaphors slams into orbit. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • the age of design and wonder

    Wade Kwon
    22 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    Roaming vacuums clean our floors while Christmas lights flash in synch with Dokken. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • head bugs on a king-size mattress

    Wade Kwon
    21 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    His anxieties crept into bed with him and took all the blankets. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • the slice at the end of the meal

    Wade Kwon
    20 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    Pie is good, pie is kind, pie doesn’t judge, pie gives joy, pie renews faith. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
  • inside time for rex

    Wade Kwon
    20 Nov 2014 | 7:35 am
    The mutt padded in and plopped down on the kitchen floor, safe from the cold. Read more haiku. Subscribe via RSS to Wade’s Daily Haiku. Or have it delivered daily by e-mail.
 
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    qazse

  • until

    qazse
    11 Nov 2014 | 10:58 am
    until there are no soldiers we have all died in vain
  • 8 Aug 2013 | 8:19 pm

    qazse
    8 Aug 2013 | 8:19 pm
    We rationalize: it’s a jungle out there. We possess the knowledge to scaffold a lasting peace. Yet we continue to speak only jungle.
  • television lives

    qazse
    7 Aug 2013 | 6:48 pm
    reality is a corporate skinner box. we scurry like rats through a maze of aisles… must see tv leads the way…
  • Spycurity

    qazse
    15 Jul 2013 | 1:47 pm
    No more security, just spycurity. No more sleeping in peace, only sleeping while watched.                                                                                                                                                                                         2007 image source:  
  • In Tribute to a Jersey City Boy

    qazse
    28 May 2012 | 7:32 pm
    My father was born in 1920. His dad left one year later. He was raised by his mother and his aunt. He was ten when the great depression hit his world.  Dad eventually left school to find work.  He joined the CCC,  and later enlisted in the U.S. Army – a truck driver in the 262 Infantry. His battle and campaign credentials include:  Normandy, Ardennes (the Bulge), Northern France, and the Rhineland. He brought home some intense memorabilia. We seven kids destroyed it, as the war could not. Dad did not talk about the war, except for the cases of wine diverted from the…
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    the amandzing way

  • 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,…
  • old man Africa kissed me on the cheek

    amandzing
    26 Sep 2014 | 4:23 am
    old man Africa kissed me on the cheek the other day 2014 freedom day a day when he would remember a lifetime of wrong a day of sad song no one would blame him for wanting to dismember this caucasian this white this apartheid era ex-cop he was sitting on a chair in the sun i leaned close to him to ask him that stupid question reporters have to ask in post-apartheid south africa “Hello Grandfather, how does it feel being able to vote?” and as he smiled a thousand years smoothed from his face and i saw a proud young man in love with his country with his wife his children his life his…
  • 2013 in review

    amandzing
    10 Jan 2014 | 5:16 am
    The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog. Here’s an excerpt: A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,200 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 20 trips to carry that many people. Click here to see the complete report.   Thank you all, for your visits, patience, and love. New Years resolution is definitly to post more here, and vist you all a little more. Thank you again, Amanda Tagged: africa, african poet, joburg, johannesburg, life, love, love life, love the world, poems, Poetry, south…
  • Women are valuable…as target practice…

    amandzing
    27 Sep 2013 | 5:31 am
    Interview: Amanda Watson by Ulla Are you really a woman? In my reality, yes. Prove it. Why? Is it a threat to you if I say I am, and I’m not? Is it a threat if I am not and I say I am? What about the binary of male / female is so critical and so threatening to the survival of homo sapiens that people can’t simply be who they are? But no, the binary, societal conditioning, call it what you will, demands we be a what before a who. A shared consensus is a happy consensus, an oblivious consensus. No questioning if it is good for me, it’s safer in the crowd. Everybody must fit into a…
 
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    Poetry of Life

  • Why Me?

    Praveen Kumar
    28 Oct 2014 | 10:15 pm
    I am exhausted walking on life’s highway, trying to keep pace in this frantic journey i take 10 steps forward only to be dragged 20 steps backwards, by invisible hands that come out of nowhere. tearing me apart from within, i struggle to find a meaning to all this, why me? why now? what did […]
  • Lost at Sea

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

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

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

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

  • Amish Trivedi: A Thousand Years of Staring I-VIII, with A Note on Permutational Art

    Jerome Rothenberg
    24 Nov 2014 | 5:45 am
     A NOTE ON PERMUTATIONAL ART.  I am bringing in permutation, a math term, as a way of thinking about the biographical relation between the author and the work. The term “permutation” refers to all the possible combinations of a set of numbers.  For example, if you had the numbers [1, 2, 3], then there are five other permutations of it: [1, 3, 2], [2, 1, 3], [2, 3, 1], [3, 1, 2], and [3, 2, 1]. What the mathematical permutation does not allow for is any change in the ultimate outcome. No matter how you arrange the set of numbers, they are still the same numbers. However, the…
  • From the Nihon Ryoiki of the Monk Kyokai (An Oral Narrative), with an additional found poem of praises for the Buddha

    Jerome Rothenberg
    19 Nov 2014 | 5:45 am
    Hiromi Ito and Jerome Rothenberg, with Jeffrey Angles (left)Translation from Japanese by Hiromi Ito & Jerome RothenbergIt was Sugaru of the Little Boy Clan who was the chancellor of the Emperor Yuryoku, as vital to him as his heart and liver.  One day when when the Emperor was residing at Iware-no-Miya palace and was having sex there with his wife, Sugaru burst into the chamber and the Emperor, feeling shame, broke off his foreplay.  At that moment they heard thunder and the Emperor told Sugaru: Go forth now and send a summons to the God of Thunder.  Sugaru replied that he…
  • Rafael Alberti (1902-1999): Buster Keaton Searches the Woods for his Sweetheart a Genu-ine Cow

    Jerome Rothenberg
    14 Nov 2014 | 6:08 am
    Translation from Spanish by Jerome Rothenberg, first published here & dedicated to Heriberto Yépez, who originally showed me the experimental, almost Dadaist range of Alberti’s early poetry1, 2, 3 & 4.These four footprints don’t match my shoes.If these four footprints don’t match my shoes,whose four footprints can these footprints be?Can they be from a shark?from an elephant babe? from a duck?from a flea? from a quail?(Pee, pee, pee.)Georginaaaaaaaa!Where have you gone?I don’t hear you, Georgina!What will your papa’s moustachios think of…
  • Rochelle Owens: Hermaphropoetics / Brown Dust

    Jerome Rothenberg
    6 Nov 2014 | 3:51 am
    [What follows is the sixth installment of Rochelle Owens’ Hermaphropoetics, a work in progress that continues the poetic & mythopoetic reach of her oeuvre as it has come to us since the 1960s.  For me she remains, as she was when we first came to know her, a poet who bends the resources of language toward the revelation & creation of a new & always startling vision of the real & more-than-real.  As I wrote of her back then: There is a voice in Owens’ work … like a fierce and unrelenting force of nature. Sharp and visual, she combines a landscape with a poetics,…
  • Hiromi Itō: from Wild Grass on the Riverbank (just published)

    Jerome Rothenberg
    31 Oct 2014 | 5:45 am
    Translation from Japanese by Jeffrey Angles[Two years after the first publication of the following extract in Poems and Poetics, Hiromi Itō’s Wild Grass on the Riverbank has now been published by Action Books in a definitive English translation by Jeffrey Angles.  One of the most important poets of contemporary Japan, her impact has been summarized by fellow poet Kido Shuri as follows: “The appearance of Itō Hiromi, a figure that one might best call a ‘shamaness of poetry’ (shi no miko) was an enormous event in post-postwar poetry.  Her physiological sensitivity and…
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    Wild Horses Of Fire

  • Delays in Glass: Social Media Poetics (Essay)

    Thom Donovan
    18 Nov 2014 | 9:28 am
    Now that is all.Gertrude SteinFor the past five years I have taught a course at School of Visual Arts in Manhattan called Visual Poetics. Curiously, I have ended each of these courses, all of which have had a different theme, thinking about poetry and writing after social media. I always like this moment in the semester because it is tends to be when I learn the most from my students. Social media still seems novel for my generation (I am in my late 30s), but for people in their teens and early 20s it is the air they breathe. For their final projects, my students invariably end up giving me…
  • Charnel Ground (II)

    Thom Donovan
    15 Nov 2014 | 11:29 am
    Anna Halprin says that before she became sick with cancer she ”lived to make art,” but when her cancer went into remission she “made art to live”My father had to have imaging done on his prostate today, to make a 3D model for upcoming surgery; my mom’s school system is being gutted again, as it has been routinely since I was in elementary schoolThese austerity plans ‘bring the war home’, evidence of how we don’t choose to live, how we have chosen death over lifeThinking of the opening shot of Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice, I wonder what it would be like if everyone cared…
  • Shifter Magazine's Dictionary of the Possible (Discussion at New School)

    Thom Donovan
    27 Oct 2014 | 5:00 pm
    OccultDiscussion Leaders: Mimi Winick & Thom DonovanSaturday, Nov 1, 4-6 pmThe Bark Room at the New School2 West 13th Street, Room M101Recommended Reading:Fred Moten “Black Mo’nin'” pg. 59, from Loss edited by David EngJalal Toufic, The Withdrawal of Tradition Past a Surpassing DisasterGauri Viswanathan, “Spectrality’s Secret Sharers: Occultism as (Post) Colonial Affect,” in Beyond the Black Atlantic: Relocating Modernization and Technology. Ed. Walter Goebel
  • Brandon Shimoda's "For Beth Murray"

    Thom Donovan
    26 Oct 2014 | 1:00 pm
    April 15, 2009*There is a kind of empathy that so fully transcends both genuine intimacy and imaginative projection that it conjoins the empathic individual to the person or thing or animal under attention with such infusing force that that individual becomes a kind of embracing, breathable liquid. We are, in fact—as individuals, as people—a kind of liquid, an embodied, bone-and-flesh kind of liquid—and yet we are not exactly meant to invent ourselves into the revelation of that fact, anymore than we are meant to be gathered together in this room without…
  • Impassed

    Thom Donovan
    12 Oct 2014 | 10:29 am
    The withered breastWith eyes of loveDo we look at giftsOf death the eyesOf a God whoseGaze freezes red shiftIn our veins untilThe corpse of a sacWriggling calls outIts new name havingPassed that thresh-hold impassedAren’t we embodying itTo meet this wayIn a grave summarizing timeAs such crouched becauseNo one is freeFrom pain so singWith me a songWhose words are chronicWeaning the lover backFrom the gradual blackRed shift frozen beforeLife began death beganTo take away my love from meSinging in a cadenceOf the unthinkable.--for Beth Murray, composed spring 2012
 
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    A window Within Myself

  • ~I see you through me~

    3 Nov 2014 | 10:19 am
    When blankness take placeYou are the essence of nourishing me Coming when I’m not expecting Taking over my being This is the beginning of my existence Life begins at your hands Your change the prospectiveMy world is in in your hands I see through you my childcopyright  2014 Nasra Al Adawi 
  • Missed that Voice

    18 Oct 2014 | 12:32 pm
  • Write On

    12 Oct 2014 | 4:28 am
    I can see every bit of stillness or existence… An element to inspire us to write... What hold us is ourselves… So carry on writing for  a reason each thing is a word that can create the beginning of a verse… Write  on my soul… Today no one hear you.. But maybe one person you might inspire... That you move them beyond you can imagine 
  • ~Managing with a Hug~

    30 Sep 2014 | 3:03 am
    By: Nasra Al Adawi  It a study (art) and it’s a science… countless articles talk about the art of managing people. However, what resonated in me was a event held by The Achievement Centre: Lunch and Learn where they hosted Oman LNG CEO, Harib Al Kittani. He simply talked about managing people in a simplest way. In a nut shell he advocated using  human touch.Harib Al Kittani, used a metaphor that I will always remember which is hug or rather  embrace. He said embrace your people, your client, your community and his list went on and on . The emphasis was irrespective of…
  • Unforgettable Woman

    21 Aug 2014 | 11:30 pm
    The challenge began for me.. “how would I ever   write about women with cancer”… to reflect their life in living beyond cancer. In 2002, I was just beginner poet, who had just collection of poetry for children touched by cancer.I was in an ambiguous situation ….. I was tasked to portray stories of Omani women conquered cancer. For me cancer was about loosing my Dad and poetry was a therapy to overcome my grief of losing my father. I thought it is easy, collection of poem. Donate them to Oman Cancer group that was back in 2003. My task was over, the group will make a…
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    Sad Poems

  • Vacant Rocking Chairs

    22 Nov 2014 | 9:32 pm
    it's far she said, as if i had forgotten. as if i could ever forget. the empty chairs. the echoing glasses. the silly way the costumes tend to fit. the ugly seams in the masks.all grenades and lollipops. it's getting closer she hinted. as if i couldn't see. how far we'd gone. the wrinkled map. the soiled route. all cellular confessions and paradox. her angle. her unspoiled contrition. soft matchsticks trying on the fire. she blames time. for being the perfect thief. for being the ideal surrender. Copyright 2005-2014 by alcoholic poet.
  • The Privileges of Lost

    18 Nov 2014 | 9:13 pm
    the sour mercies time inflicts. the subtle virus of want. its mute screams constant. vague and absurd. a delicious starvation. awash in dramatic balconies and impotent fictions. stolen honey. worn by the proxy. eager as we are. to be spent. anything to reinforce the structure.the shallow walls in the shadow of  the deep ceiling. paper negotiating the rain.  the cold in doses. the disantce like icicles. it's years. it's minutes. they are the same. hollow rooftops from which we look down. a suicide of expectations. the hour bursts open. a wolf with big eyes. a willing victim. every…
  • Parsing Integers

    16 Nov 2014 | 9:07 pm
    quiet volcanoes tame the friction. the interrupted circuit. the composite man. all echo and thumbs. in creases familiar, but unnatural. tepid goddesses in their unicorn robes. discovering everyting. finding no one. the electricity knows. energy accelerates. matter is enhanced. the shapes coalesce. stubborn attractions spoil the expermient. the word is driven. the flesh is spent. the sober chaos. the high zen. borrowed, bled and bankrupt. small gods construct their paradise in wine and cigarettes. the simple mistakes that once made us  whole. like hunningbirds and plastic soldiers. left…
  • Anecotal Evidence

    9 Nov 2014 | 9:12 pm
    the edges overtake and the margins disappear. she follows the wind. as the cold whispers destinations. wearing the distance in scabs and antonyms. the hungry colors. the thirsty greys. the elegant madness of want. all fire and sirens. and waiting for the folds to sink. an autonomy of despair. too quiet to ignore. her wrinkled socks. her dirty underwear. spoiled matches in the seduction of the darkness. it's never had a name. it's never been drawn on paper. the art that is grief. the symphony that is need. the angles strain and fail to reach. the shadows attempt to negotiate an impossible…
  • Counting the Empties

    8 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    tepid tornadoes boast their break from gravity. the sunrise scribbles like a crayon. smearing colors on the canvas her flesh pretends. all numbers. always a series. like pages. bent and barely read. the moment languishes in our stubborn apathy. all needles and thread. too loyal to ambivalent demons. she breaks. pieces everywhere. she runs. quickly out of breath. the monsters attempting to translate lost bits of her humanity. she says it's okay. because the scar is obedient. a little it of blood. and then it's hard again. nothing can penetrate. the soul is all weights and measures. a series of…
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    anachronizms

  • mmcclxxxi

    24 Nov 2014 | 1:27 am
    Retroactive Overweight SonnetOne week from yesterdayI get a paycheck.  I’mpretty broke; in need ofpaying bills down and feel-ing I can breathe easier.But that’s pretty normal.“Do I look as blank as Ifeel?” I wonder.  Pleaseaccept this as my letterof resignation.  Hey, I justthought of something thatmight help you understandone part of my mind.If I think I’m dying, Iwill still wake up next toyou tomorrow morning.  “Oh,the future, Dear Future!”  I say to the big orange bowl in the sky.
  • mmcclxxx

    22 Nov 2014 | 2:20 am
    chicken mouth vs. onion mouthhis big problem ishe lives in fear ofbeing embarrassed.home by around 10.sick ever since.  mynose runs.  i am soboring.  perhaps igo home?         .....next day, feelingmuch better.  lunchwith erin at gaylord.i wish i were justfrolicking aroundthe city aimlessly.wouldn’t it be fun?later in the evening,tasting indian foodfrom hours ago, i’m about to trust a complete stranger to pick up & fix my laptop.
  • mmcclxxix

    20 Nov 2014 | 1:32 pm
    less willowmore buffysounds beautiful.  i rollover & goback to sleep. thinkgoodthoughtsas much asthey can bethunk.  thefirst thing to do is tolet perfectiongo.  at least alittle.  why ismy heart sohealthy?nightynightfor now.
  • mmcclxxviii

    19 Nov 2014 | 7:38 pm
    Sad ClownHere I am,a sad clown.No better way to put it.
  • mmcclxxvii

    18 Nov 2014 | 11:42 pm
    That the poem is a toywith the structure of insomnia.                           —Norma ColeEven as I writeI am falling asleep.Reminders of all thethings I need to dokeep cropping up,yet I cannot stayawake (even as my mood driftsdownward again).This morning I gotsome nice littlepunches.  Andlater, lunch withOtto at PowerSource (it sayshere “next door;was good”).Carolyn saysSuzy has esophageal cancer.  Terminal.How long nowhas she livedterminally…
 
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    As/Is

  • Saint Matthew Church: Fayette Street: Conshohocken

    Adam Fieled
    16 Nov 2014 | 10:39 am
    Fayette Street, Conshohocken's main thoroughfare, displays some very exquisite architecture. Saint Matthew Church is one of the highlights.
  • Noir Resonances: 1341/1488

    Adam Fieled
    16 Nov 2014 | 9:43 am
    Built into Apparition Poems as a literary construct, and as a textual embodiment of what I call a “noir” or “deep noir” sensibility, are resonances from poem to poem, and from poem-sequence to poem-sequence. You could call these resonances textual “games” of a sort, and when two or more poems “game” with or against each other, the resonances between motifs, linguistic structures, and approaches
  • Reap Together: Romanticism and Noir

    Adam Fieled
    15 Nov 2014 | 11:50 am
    As to how I have designated possible discussions/discourses about my Apparition Poems; applying the moniker “noir” or “deep noir” to them, in order the explicate the aesthetic terrain they inhabit; I would like to designate a possible chiasmus between “noir,” as defined in textual practice by me, and the theoretical underpinnings of English Romanticism. What noir and Romanticism share is
  • Keats and Lyricism Pt. 3

    Adam Fieled
    4 Nov 2014 | 9:01 am
    Lyricism and what I call “deep noir” in Apparition Poems— the lyrical impulse here is divested of attachment to conventional (parochial, in retrospect) prosody (the term for my melopoeiac modus operandi is “clustering,” in which rhymes, near rhymes, assonances, alliterations, anaphora, and other devices occur at regularly irregular intervals). Also, the momentary or arbitrary is subsumed
  • Keats and Lyricism Pt. 2

    Adam Fieled
    3 Nov 2014 | 9:13 am
    Lyricism’s hinge to adolescence, and the Dionysian— I have the Dionysian ranked as a Secondary Mode on the Purification Chain, for the same reason that the “fixed” must take its place as a Primary Mode over the mutable— an ethos around the aesthetic, whether inhering in the text directly or indirectly, must supersede, in its formal structure (scaffolding, image arrangements as on the Grecian
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    Chicano Poet

  • 18 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm

    18 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    La MoscaEl ocho patasate a moscathe juicesclung to his whiskershe spit outthe convex eyesel ocho patascould see throughthe crunchywingshe let the mosca's feetfall to the floorthe gringa of the housenever had a clueshe vacuumedthem upbut her shaggy white carpetonly fooled Americans
  • 18 Nov 2014 | 9:04 am

    18 Nov 2014 | 9:04 am
    The RescueEl ocho pataspulls La Lloronafrom the San Antonio Riverby her broken silver wingsher underwearis muddyher mouthfull of floodwatersher hairholds trembling stickstall buildingsleap in the skythe Alamotells stormy liesel ocho patasdrags La Lloronaonto the banksof the pointless riverand as shedries offher breastsharden on her chestand she will notthank him
  • 15 Nov 2014 | 11:20 am

    15 Nov 2014 | 11:20 am
    The Musical FruitWhen el ocho patassplit the atomthe beancame falling outthe caldowas quite hotthere wereno sillyor strange quarkslike scientistswill lead youto believeonly beansmake up the atomlet no onetell you otherwise
  • 3 Nov 2014 | 9:36 am

    3 Nov 2014 | 9:36 am
    Sands Of The MoonWomen always tried to re-writeel ocho patasbut he wasalready writtenon the sandsof the moonand only untilwomen venture thereis there any chanceof that happeningbut in the morningthe rude awakeninghis wifeyells at himand don't forgetto take out the trashand mow the lawnon earth!
  • 31 Oct 2014 | 9:32 pm

    31 Oct 2014 | 9:32 pm
    His Patas Had Both Sides"Both sides are all the same glows his grin with all but shame."       Berryman the Bridge-JumperEl ocho patasstruggled long and hard with his maladyhis feet pushed awayand grasped to wardshis contradiction in termswas one and the samethe flies of God flew highas they flew lowbanging their headsagainst angry angelsand dragging their feetthrough the devil's pooel ocho patasfought long and hardyet always succumbeddumb scum that he wasbut look on the bright side he saidthere's always the threat of sun
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    .

  • A Call to Recognize Nonhuman Sentience in Political and Economic Thought

    14 Nov 2014 | 10:00 pm
    "The following is a small fantasy expressing the wish for the advent of a heterodox school of economic history and thought that sees economic systems as schemas expressly for creating, regulating, and satisfying the bodily habits of both human and nonhuman animals. Seeing economic systems in this light — as schemas for bringing realities to porches, goods to ports – will make, hopefully
  • Writing Literature to Benefit Nonhumans

    27 Mar 2014 | 1:33 pm
    On why we should consider literature a force that can also benefit nonhumans: "The idea that literature should be written to benefit nonhumans is new. We see no hint of this in western letters prior to now. Book X of The Republic maintains that the only permissible literature is that which praises gods and famous men. Aristotle remarks in Book IV of The Poetics that literature’s purview is the
  • 4 Mar 2014 | 10:14 pm

    4 Mar 2014 | 10:14 pm
    https://twitter.com/9antarhei
  • 22 Feb 2014 | 5:02 pm

    22 Feb 2014 | 5:02 pm
    h o l z w e g e
  • 6 Feb 2014 | 6:53 am

    6 Feb 2014 | 6:53 am
 
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    rooted

  • soulful lingering

    gautami tripathy
    17 Nov 2014 | 10:03 am
    in the highway subtle is a misnomer fresh palate hints of sex toasty thrill of lingering soul yields but a mix of emotions speeding tends to the palpitating heart I burn in the darkness in the deep... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • chaotic

    gautami tripathy
    9 Nov 2014 | 7:21 am
    such a singer that owl his eyes shine in the dark night his fervor does not find favor with me as I am at crossroads all my plans in the mud birds may symbolize freedom I do not see a thread of... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • marking time

    gautami tripathy
    2 Nov 2014 | 8:51 am
    standing underneath the wind chimes I contemplate about the future I get over my grey thoughts as the rain no longer sounds like dirge I think of you, feel a spark of joy the sun sees my spilling... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • In the chaos, I desire peace

    gautami tripathy
    26 Oct 2014 | 9:38 am
    she stands there wearing strange socks speedy recovery from a frivolous illness looking at the surroundings I almost have an apocalyptic vision the inklings of that echoes in my literary... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
  • dance of freedom

    gautami tripathy
    19 Oct 2014 | 6:24 am
    crazy emotions dance with glee a shadow of childhood is glimpsed I can't play a martyr- not to you, a complete stranger now why are you preaching like a seer? I am alone maybe, not lonely- why... [[ This is a content summary only. Visit my website for full links, other content, and more! ]]
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    something katy

  • the leather bound

    3 Nov 2014 | 12:23 pm
    the leather bound he writes one page every day for the rest of his life the story of his desires his secrets and regrets buried with him years and years later leather bound by a friend a lover every page stitched and buried
  • it was green, spetember

    30 Sep 2014 | 7:02 am
    today i felt the whispers of september dying leaves skipping across cracked new england pavement when my back was turned and the noiseless rustling of spiders' webs blown away by the morning breeze dew weighing everything down
  • i am still here

    18 Aug 2014 | 9:22 am
    although silent.  still writing.  although silent. 
  • Drabble #18: Shortbread

    24 Jun 2014 | 3:43 pm
    short on butter again, the scone sat unfinished on her plate.  a wounded monk in the crossfire of desire and reality.  she sat pouting, staring at the monstrosity of sweet bread like one might a snoring bedfellow.  not enough butter.  cheap. overall, she decided, she preferred biscuits over bread.  savory or sweet, didn't much matter the kind of bread, there was hardly ever enough butter.  but
  • Ten Reasons NOT to be Sad

    23 Jun 2014 | 6:29 am
    I am sad today.  I have a reason to be.  But I also have a lot of reasons not to be sad... One Ryan - my amazing and wonderful husband and best friend Two Rowdy - my amazing and wonderful and crazy (and secretly affectionate) feline friend Three Jack - another amazing and wonderful bag of feline fur who fits himself into tiny boxes and somehow makes it look comfortable Four Alli - yet another
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    Silliman's Blog

  • 24 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm

    24 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Talking with Alan Golding: The first broadcast from the Wexler Recording Studio @ Kelly Writers House, with Al Filreis, Bob Perelman Orchid Tierney & Ron Silliman November 19, 2014 <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
  • 23 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm

    23 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Allan Kornblum 1949 – 2014 <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
  • 22 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm

    22 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Gregoire Pam Dick reading from Metaphysical Licks <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
  • 21 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm

    21 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Ursula K Le Guin at the National Book Awards <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
  • 20 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm

    20 Nov 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Jon Stallworthy 1935 – 20014 <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
 
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    Poet Hound

  • how to be another by Susan Lewis

    25 Nov 2014 | 2:09 pm
    Susan Lewis’ collection, how to be another, is complex, rich, and decadent. It could easily go over your allotted intake of prose, perhaps go above your head, yet is worth submitting yourself to again and again. Her words take time to sink in, dear Reader, and I urge you to take a closer look after the sample I am happy to share with you below:The EmbraceAnd in that ecstatic moment he squeezed her harder than he had ever done before, crushing her rib-cage against his like a sprig of lavender or a wedge of lemon, a bagpipe or an emergency alert, squeezing out her fragrance & her juices & her…
  • JoAnna Penn Cooper's What Is A Domicile

    14 Oct 2014 | 3:09 am
    Joanna Penn Cooper’s What Is A Domicile, published by Noctuary Press, explores reality and memory intertwined from domestic life versus nature, of dreams and reality. It is a complex and beautiful collection, I am happy to share some inviting tidbits with you:TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERNI’m writing to inform you of my qualifications on this sunny day inside wearing silent headphones, a small white feather stuck to one foot. I can hear that tree clearing its throat outside my fifth floor walk-up. I can see all this packing and half unpacking of boxes as a compulsive metaphor for how we’re all…
  • An Interview with Eric Shonkwiler: Above All Men

    2 Sep 2014 | 3:12 am
    Earlier this year I featured a review of Shonkwiler’s novel, Above All Men, and had the opportunity to interview him about his novel. Below is his biography and our Q&A:Eric Shonkwiler has had writing appear in Los Angeles Review of Books, The Millions, Fiddleblack, [PANK] Magazine, Midwestern Gothic, and elsewhere. He received his MFA in Fiction from University of California–Riverside, where he was the recipient of the Chancellor’s Distinguished Fellowship Award, and is a regional editor for Los Angeles Review of Books, as well as a former reader for [PANK] and former Editor-in-Chief…
  • Paul David Atkins' Stick Up

    19 Aug 2014 | 3:09 am
    Stick Up, published by Blood Pudding Press in 2014, is a story told in poems about a convenience store being robbed by a woman over 50. Paul David Atkins describes the characters involved and creates tension in the scenes throughout. How it ends will have to be a surprise. Below I’m happy to share a few plot-tantalizing poems:He Gripped the Alarmafter he heard her from the freezer yell, This is a stick up!Around his neckhung a silent alarm button.He pressed it once or twiceor forty timesin the seven seconds it tookto crack the door and peek.He saw a woman with a gun aimedat the other clerk,…
  • Amanda Oaks' Hurricane Mouth

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

  • So You Think You're Financially Literate: A Quiz

    The Best American Poetry
    25 Nov 2014 | 2:16 pm
    Have we taught a generation of college graduates to vilify capitalism without doing it the honor of knowing how it works? Spot checks at New York’s Penn Station reveal that a vast majority of college-educated commuters do not have a clue about the relation of the prime rate to the federal funds rate, the advantage of capital gains over wages, the difference between a progressive income tax and a sales tax, the reason bond prices go up when interests rates go down, and the best age at which to start taking Social Security benefits. This test for advanced financial literary was devised by a…
  • AMERICAN FOOTBALL AS AN AMERICAN WAR GAME: A FIVE PART, FIVE DAY, SEMI-PERSONAL SPONTANEOUS ESSAY [by Matthew Yeager]

    Matthew Yeager
    25 Nov 2014 | 1:19 pm
    PART 1: INTRODUCTION; WATCHING FOOTBALL; THE VHS TAPE Cincinnati Bengals Max Montoya (center) with Steve Krieder (left) and Anthony Muñoz in 1981. THE GAME OF FOOTBALL begins for me in about 1983 or 1984. On my elbows and my stomach, legs stretched behind me on a pea green wall-to-wall carpet, I am three or four; my head is cocked; my mouth is slung open, and my eyes barely blink. On a 21" rabbit-eared Zenith, is a thrillingly simple smashing together of human bodies, which I for my part, believe I fully understand; it is the game of professional football, and it is the Cincinnati Bengals.
  • Wanted: The Best Last Line for a Book Not (or Not Yet) Written [by DL]

    The Best American Poetry
    25 Nov 2014 | 11:57 am
    This week's "Next Line, Please" contest -- sponsored by The American Scholar -- is for the best kast line or last sentence of a book that doesn't exist. Here is quizmaster David Lehman's explanatory head note: <<<We love last lines. The endings of favorite novels enter the mind and lodge there. Scott Fitzgerald’s majestic conclusion of The Great Gatsby is a favorite: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Hemingway concludes The Sun Also Rises with a bitterly ironic line of dialogue enlivened by an unusual choice of adjective:…
  • This Monday at KGB: Timothy Liu + Justin Marks

    jdeming
    24 Nov 2014 | 4:59 pm
    KGB Monday Night Poetry is pleased to present... Timothy Liu + Justin Marks Monday, November 24th, 2014 Hosted by John Deming and Matthew Yeager Series founded in 1997 by Star Black and David Lehman Doors open at 7:00 pm Reading starts at 7:30pm Admission is FREE www.KgbBar.com 85 East 4th Street * New York, NY Timothy Liu (Liu Ti Mo) was born in 1965 in San Jose, California, to parents from the Chinese mainland. He studied at Brigham Young University, the University of Houston, and the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. 
He is the author of Polytheogamy (Saturnalia,…
  • The Thanksgiving Trick [by Alan Ziegler]

    Alan Ziegler
    23 Nov 2014 | 10:00 am
                On the day before Thanksgiving, a few months after my 22nd birthday, wallowing in the uncertainty of my future and nursing a heart that, while not broken, felt chipped, my roommate and I scrounged for food that might inadvertently be available. Nothing but two pre-wrapped slices of American cheese. I held them up. “These pieces of orange nothingness are capable of metamorphosis. What’s blander than American cheese?  White bread. But put American cheese between white bread, add some butter and grill it while pressing a plate on top, and voila, the butterfly emerges.”…
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    Harriet: The Blog

  • Black Lives Matter: A Roundup of Worthy Reads

    Harriet Staff
    25 Nov 2014 | 1:30 pm
    In the wake of the Michael Brown grand jury non-indictment, this poetry-news day is a slow one. Or is it? Some links we feel might be worth a moment of your time: 1. Audre Lorde’s “Power.” 2. From the blog of our own Don Share: an Open Letter to White Poets From Danez Smith. I am asking you to explode the canon with what we must make sure is remembered in this nation. We cannot leave the duty of elegy for black bodies and calls for our fellow citizens to rise, even if wounded or enraged or scared, to the catalogues of solely black artist. We must write the American Lyric…
  • Los Angeles Review of Books Reviews the Letters of Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry

    Harriet Staff
    25 Nov 2014 | 12:00 pm
    Counterpath recently published The Letters of Wendell Berry and Gary Snyder: a tome that many fans of both poets have been looking forward to, as Berry and Snyder have written to one another for the past forty years and each has produced a cosmos of essays, poems, and articles along the way. Their letters, compiled by Chad Wriglesworth and spanning 352 pages, presents a rare glimpse to the inner-workings of a life-long friendship. From LARB: IT WOULD BE HARD to pick up a book of letters exchanged between Gary Snyder and Wendell Berry across some 40 years, without feeling considerable…
  • Surrealism Is a Romantic Critique of the Avant-Garde from Within

    Garrett Caples
    25 Nov 2014 | 10:00 am
    [Editor's Note: Garrett Caples delivered a version this talk at the Poetry Foundation on November 6, 2014 as part of the Harriet Reading Series. Other "Open Door" features can be found here.] I begin with the penultimate sentence of “Theory of Retrieval,” the capstone to my recent book of essays, Retrievals: “I admire from a distance other, perhaps grander aspects of [André] Breton—the movement leader, the concept synthesizer—but what I’ve sought to emulate as a poet-critic is his spirit of generosity to the living and the dead.” This is as much to say that I’ve never aspired…
  • Walking & Talking With Amaranth Borsuk & Andy Fitch

    Harriet Staff
    25 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    Despite what’s most visible, Amaranth Borsuk and Andy Fitch do much more than look adorable for BOMB Daily: They walk “along the Poudre River [in Colorado] amid scattered showers,” and talk about the process of making their new book, As We Know (Boulder: Subito 2014), which Borsuk describes as “[a] book that attempts to intervene into the history of male editors redacting and reshaping the work of women writers, [that] uses erasure to not only reverse that gender dynamic but also explore the potential for co-authored identity.” Here’s part of their…
  • Lost Letter That Inspired ‘On the Road’: FOUND!

    Harriet Staff
    25 Nov 2014 | 6:00 am
    Wow! Breaking news! NPR reports that a long-lost letter Neal Cassady wrote to Jack Kerouac, which inspired On the Road, has been re-discovered! The eighteen-page letter, written by Neal Cassady and sent to Jack Kerouac, tells the story of a wild and crazy weekend spent with a one Joan Anderson. Founding editor of the Beat Museum in San Francisco, Jerry Cimino, calls this letter “the holy grail of the Beat Generation” because, among other things, it provoked a major shift in Kerouac’s writing style. More: When Jack Kerouac’s On the Road was first published in 1957 no…
 
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    WritersDigest.com

  • When Your Novel Writing Clicks

    Jessica Strawser
    25 Nov 2014 | 7:30 am
    Light-bulb moments. Aha moments. Flashes of recognition. Revelations. Call them whatever you like. I like to think of them as clicks. In the writing life, the best kind of click is that moment something makes you realize exactly what’s been missing from the not-quite-right scene you’ve been working on. Or the instant you put two plot points together and suddenly have a clear view of what’s really beneath your character’s behavior. Or the random tip on plot structure that magically conjures for you a map of how everything in your messy draft might fit together after all. Clicks.
  • Baby Blues

    Brian A. Klems
    25 Nov 2014 | 5:00 am
    After an extreme evening of fun you wake up feeling groggy and fall over. The ground greets you much quicker than usual. You waddle over to a low-lying mirror and see that you’re a baby, but remember everything. You parent’s voice is lilting up the stairs. What do you attempt to tell them? How did this happen? Want more creative writing prompts? Pick up a copy of A Year of Writing Prompts: 365 Story Ideas for Honing Your Craft and Eliminating Writer’s Block. There’s a prompt for every day of the year and you can start on any day. Order now from our shop.      …
  • 4 Approaches for the First Chapter of Your Novel

    Jeff Gerke
    25 Nov 2014 | 5:00 am
    How, strategically speaking, should you begin your novel? When a reader reads your first chapter, what should she find? There are four primary approaches for beginning a successful novel. Probably more, including some highly experimental ones, but these are the classic main four. Run your story idea through the filter of each of these and see if one of them feels right for your book.     This post is by Jeff Gerke, an award-winning editor of fiction and non-fiction and the author of six novels, five non-fiction books and the co-author or ghostwriter of numerous other books. He is…
  • 2014 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 25

    Robert Lee Brewer
    25 Nov 2014 | 1:00 am
    For today’s prompt, you have two options: Write a love poem. Write an anti-love poem. 2015 Poet’s Market Get your poetry published! Learn how to get your poetry published with the premiere book on publishing your poetry: the 2015 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer. This essential resource includes hundreds of listings for book publishers, magazines, journals, contests, grants, and so much more. Plus, there are articles on the craft of poetry, business of poetry, and promotion of poetry. Beyond that, there’s an hour-long webinar, a subscription to the poetry slice of…
  • 7 Things I’ve Learned So Far, by Nina Darnton

    Chuck Sambuchino
    24 Nov 2014 | 8:05 pm
    This is a recurring column I’m calling “7 Things I’ve Learned So Far,” where writers (this installment written by Nina Darnton, author of THE PERFECT MOTHER) at any stage of their career can talk about writing advice and instruction as well as how they possibly got their book agent — by sharing seven things they’ve learned along their writing journey that they wish they knew at the beginning. (Never open your novel with a dream — here’s why.)   Nina Darnton is a former psychologist and staff writer for Newsweek and a former frequent contributor for the New…
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    Dunstan Carter : Poetry

  • Armchair Critic

    dc
    17 Nov 2014 | 5:02 pm
    Significant In his insignificance, A dance of oft repeated whispers And metered diatribes Muttered loudly To no one, This man has it all; The repartee And the put downs, The wry grin And the eyebrow all arched, He is mighty alone, A cloud wildly drizzling, A tongue as quick as a microwave And a brain plugged in Gently sizzling.
  • Dreamer Gone

    dc
    6 Nov 2014 | 6:06 pm
    I hear the mock disgust In your tone, The spittle in the corners Of your brain bubbling, A tart marmalade spread On fatigued jealousy. You are nothing But a wooden bench In a run-down launderette, The warmth left By huge tired buttocks, A tiny line of sweat Gleaming as the sun sets Through boredom And the knobs on the old machines Tick like tutting veterans Peeved and all alone. I hear your phone Rings very rarely Because of all The bile you’ve blown.
  • Plush Hatred

    dc
    3 Nov 2014 | 5:59 pm
    No one ever knew They hated each other, It was sinister and hushed, They whispered Plush hatred And danced through the dust.
  • One Old Halloween

    dc
    26 Oct 2014 | 6:44 pm
    He rode with a witch To a town Just north from here, A gentle fog drifting As she sat evil still. They listened To an album he hated Twice, Went the wrong way Round roundabouts, Briefly argued About the Middle East And sizzled with dysfunction. They screamed and shouted, Turned the dusk midnight blue And pretended They were true to their pasts When they knew deep down They were lying. They were all about trying Or at least just pretending They were all about trying, And that brief bit of crying They let out, As two angry dogs Attacked the car boot At the lights Near the cemetery gates,…
  • Pep

    dc
    10 Oct 2014 | 5:20 pm
    Fresh feelings are people The first to wake up, A marriage of tickling, The rumbles of summer. Wrong is something to carry, A rucksack of rough notes, Sadness a mirage And nightmares a hoax. Don’t let the dark skies Dictate your haircut Or polish the sweat From your brow. You are almost a comet, A fire in your chest, Fast like the sunshine The brilliance of yes.
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    Robert Peake

  • In Praise of Randomness

    Robert Peake
    22 Nov 2014 | 1:05 pm
    Sometimes I need a little help turning over the creative engine when starting a new poem. I have developed a tool that helps me to do just that, and am sharing it with the community in case it helps other poets to ignite their muse as well. Poetic constraints — such as patterns of alliteration, metre, and rhyme — originally served as mnemonic devices in pre-literate societies. Patterned speech is inherently easier to remember, which is why recalling a nursery rhyme is still easier than memorising prose. Stylised forms of language remained in favour long…
  • Revolutionising Poetry with Technology (Survey Results)

    Robert Peake
    19 Nov 2014 | 3:00 am
    First and foremost, thanks to the more than 300 people who took a minute or two out of their busy lives to respond to my brief survey. Clearly people want to record their opinions, and hear what others think, about poetry and technology. You can see the general report of survey results here. I have also charted and analysed this information below, with some interesting conclusions. Intention and Methods First, I should say that the intention of this survey was not to get a broad picture of general attitudes toward poetry, but to focus on specific aspects in a specific group. For a good…
  • Attitudes Toward Poetry and Technology (Short Survey)

    Robert Peake
    17 Nov 2014 | 7:48 am
    I am interested in the attitudes of both poets and non-poets toward technology and poetry. Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? I have put together a very short survey (60 seconds or less) and would love for you to register your thoughts. Click here to begin the survey The post Attitudes Toward Poetry and Technology (Short Survey) appeared first on Robert Peake.
  • The Space it Might Take

    Robert Peake
    16 Nov 2014 | 1:29 pm
    I am pleased to have four poems, including the eponymous poem from my forthcoming collection The Knowledge in The Space it Might Take, the 26th biennial anthology of the Highgate Poets. It is a pleasure to see these poems beside some of the strongest work over the last two years from each member of this unique North London poetry collective. In fact, I think it may be their best volume yet. Hats off to those involved in its painstaking production. You can get your copy at the Highgate Poets website. The post The Space it Might Take appeared first on Robert Peake.
  • Five Reviews in Poetry Salzburg Review 26

    Robert Peake
    15 Nov 2014 | 7:21 am
    My reviews of five poetry collections appear in the current issue of Poetry Salzburg Review. Each poet, and collection, could not be more different from the next. American poet Maureen Alsop’s Mantic is a bewitching book of divinations; Irish poet Gene Barry’s Unfinished Business is a humanistic raconteur’s parade; Midlands English poet Helen Calcutt layers deep, meditative imagery in Sudden rainfall; Professor Heger’s Daughter by Southeastern English poet Chrissie Gittins offers a by turns incisive and funny collection of philosophical bon mots; Northern English poet…
 
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    E D I B L E    D E T R I T U S

  • Bad Hair Day

    David Moolten
    17 Nov 2014 | 12:36 pm
    “And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves…” Walt Whitman, Song Of MyselfFiled under: Uncategorized
  • E D I B L E    D E T R I T U S

    David Moolten
    17 Nov 2014 | 12:06 pm
    Poetry, Art, Medicine & Society E D I B L E    D E T R I T U SFiled under: Uncategorized
  • Condoleezza Rice On Benghazi: It’s Hard To Know For Sure In A ‘Fog Of War’

    David Moolten
    26 Oct 2012 | 7:48 am
    On the truth about Benghazi… Condoleezza Rice On Benghazi: It’s Hard To Know For Sure In A ‘Fog Of War’.    Filed under: Politics
  • 12 Sep 2012 | 12:01 pm

    David Moolten
    12 Sep 2012 | 12:01 pm
    Leonard Nelson Gallery Tomorrow, September 13th, 2012 I’ll be reading with four other poets at the Leonard Nelson Gallery… View Post shared via WordPress.comFiled under: Uncategorized
  • Leonard Nelson Gallery

    David Moolten
    12 Sep 2012 | 12:01 pm
    Tomorrow, September 13th, 2012 I’ll be reading with four other poets at the Leonard Nelson Gallery in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania as part of the Gallery’s second Tuesdays series.  Come out if you’re in the area. The details are as follows: Leonard Nelson Gallery: 932 W. LANCASTER AVENUE, BRYN MAWR, PA, (610) 291-8455 Date/Time: Thursday, September 13th – 7:00 PM to 9:00 PM Featuring: ● David Moolten ● Bill Van Buskirk ● Lisa Alexander Baron ● Ray Greenblatt ● Mike Cohen ● Lawren Bale
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    The Nahmias Cipher Report

  • Saudi Arabia Grapples with Women’s Right to Drive Within Existing Restrictions

    Rocio Flores
    13 Nov 2014 | 12:41 pm
    Rocío Flores, Associate Editor Last Modified: 15:40 p.m. DST, 13 November 2014 SAUDI ARABIA – A common Western activity such as driving has been an issue for women in Saudi Arabia for ages. Although women over thirty have been allowed to drive, this right has been curtailed by the stringent restriction to which they are […]
  • Human Trials to Test Ebola Vaccine Begin

    Sarah Jakubowski
    5 Nov 2014 | 8:31 pm
    Sarah Joanne Jakubowski, Contributing Journalist Last Modified: 23:31 p.m. DST, 05 November 2014 WASHINGTON, D.C. – The National Institute of Health (NIH) has received approval from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to begin human testing of a new Ebola vaccine. This will be welcome news for the millions of Americans who now face […]
  • Rwanda’s Leading Murderer

    Jessamy Nichols
    25 Oct 2014 | 10:38 pm
    Jessamy Nichols, Africa Correspondent Last Modified: 01:40 a.m. EST, 26 October 2014 KIGALI, Rwanda – Ever since the 1994 Rwandan genocide, the international community has been slow to criticize Rwanda’s new government and slow to intervene in matters there. This hesitancy to get involved is rooted back to their fear of being to blame for […]
  • Islamic New Year 2014 | The Prophet and Kaaba

    Sarah Jakubowski
    24 Oct 2014 | 1:50 pm
    Sarah Joanne Jakubowski, Contributing Journalist Last Modified: 16:52 p.m. DST, 24 October 2014 This year, the new Islamic New Year fell on October 24. The date will mark the anniversary of the Prophet Muhammad’s journey from Mecca to Medina in year 622. He led his followers over 200 miles across barren desert to escape persecution. […]
  • Melkam Addis Amet 2014 | Happy Ethiopian New Year!

    Ayanna Nahmias
    8 Sep 2014 | 9:00 pm
    Ayanna Nahmias, Editor-in-Chief Last Modified: 00:00 AM EDT, 09 September 2014 ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia – The Ethiopian New Year, which in Amharic is called Enkutatash, commences on 11 September 2014.  The name of this festival harkens back to the revered Queen of Sheba, who upon her return from Jerusalem where she visited King Solomon, brought […]
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    Magma Poetry » Blog

  • Magma 60 and its launch events in London and Newcastle

    Rob A Mackenzie
    21 Nov 2014 | 10:00 am
    Freedom is a word so big, or so close to us, that perhaps we don’t even see it. Certainly the poems that arrived in response to our call for poems on the theme of ‘Freedom’ were so various that often we couldn’t decide if a poem was supposed to address the theme at all. But the best of them enacted, across the gamut of political, personal, geographical and cultural life, the human freedom of the careful and electric word. The prose pieces consider freedom from a range of viewpoints. Sean O’Brien’s piece, for Magma’s National Conversation project, reminds us…
  • Call for contributions – Magma 62 on the theme of ‘Violence’

    Chris Kerr
    30 Sep 2014 | 2:17 am
    We settled on ‘violence’ as the theme for Magma 62 since it seemed a stark contrast to the “big safe themes”, as Paul Farley might call them, that sprang easily to mind. Violence felt bold and a little bit different and these, above all, are the qualities we are looking for in the poems. We want poems like Paul Batchelor’s To a Halver an ode to a half-brick that mines the symbolism of this, apparently, simple object so it becomes more than a weapon; or poems that explore the theme of violence in the way they mean (through the use of syntax, typography, diction etc)…
  • Blog Review 37: Bethany Pope Reviews ‘The Cartographer Tries to Map a Way to Zion’ by Kei Miller

    Rob Mackenzie
    24 Sep 2014 | 1:09 am
    Kei Miller’s wonderful new book, The Cartographer Tries to Map a Way to Zion combines uniformly strong writing with a mythic unifying theme, and even a few ventures into the realm of form. The collection comprises a spiritual/philosophical journey undertaken by a divided Self. This Self speaks in two voices, The Cartographer and The Rastaman, cleaved by contrasting cultural influences and perceptions of the point and purpose of the universe. The Rasta position, that the world is a work-in-perpetual-progress, a seemingly relaxed (in reality very intricate) art rattled off by Jah presents…
  • Winning poems from Magma’s pop-up poetry competition in Winchester

    Wes Brown
    20 Sep 2014 | 7:53 am
    As part of our Winchester Poetry Festival activities to launch our National Conversation about poetry, Magma ran a pop-up poetry competition on the theme of ‘nationhood’. The competition was won outright by Dom Cramp for his poem, The Broken English and Richard Stillman was our runner-up with From Chaucer to Grime. The winners were invited on stage to read their work alongside Ros Barber and Jackie Kay. Poet and Magma board member, Susannah Hart was one of the judges and explains what impressed her about the poems: The Broken English “This poem stood out because of its…
  • Highlights from the Winchester Poetry Festival

    admin
    17 Sep 2014 | 5:21 am
    Following the success of the inaugural Winchester Poetry Festival, we asked poets, performers, organisers, attendees and Magma team members for their highlight of the weekend and to share an individual moment that might have gone hidden or unseen. Check back over the coming days to read more highlights, and, if you attended or have something to say, feel free to share and discuss your experiences in the comments section below. (Hover over the images to see the captions.)    Kate Firth, Voice Coach & Actress Well, certainly my workshop highlights were people discovering the sonic…
 
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    Mark McGuinness - poetry

  • The Canterbury Tales – Mamas and the Papas Version (Plus reading in London Monday 17 November)

    Mark McGuinness
    13 Nov 2014 | 3:16 am
    In a parallel universe, the Canterbury Tales were written and performed by the Mamas and the Papas. This video gives us a glimpse of that universe. Beautiful and mad. Courtesy of Lucian James. If you’re in London next Monday 17th November, you might like to pop along to the Troubadour where I’ll be reading a couple of poems as part of the Poetry School Poets evening. As well as some other students from the School, tutors Tamar Yoseloff and Mimi Khalvati will be reading. Even if you can’t make the reading, I recommend you get hold of Mimi’s new book The Weather Wheel,…
  • Poem: ‘The Illusionist’, in The Rialto

    Mark McGuinness
    26 Jun 2014 | 9:14 am
    My poem ‘The Illusionist’ has just been published in Issue 80 of The Rialto, which has been one of my favourite poetry magazines for years. The poem is loosely based on an experience of watching the filming of a TV magic show, one of those rare instances of what might be called poetic déjà vu: life starts to imitate a verse form, and you become aware during the experience itself that you are inside a potential poem. In this case, the verse-form was the pantoum, and I could almost see the machinery of the poem moving and grinding around me, in the two-steps-forward-one-step-back…
  • Lark in the Morning: The Verses of the Troubadours

    Mark McGuinness
    31 Mar 2014 | 9:23 am
    We all know vaguely who the troubadours were: those minstrels with (in Ezra Pound’s words) “trunk-hose and the light guitar” who wandered through the middle-ages, serenading ladies outside their windows and dodging jealous glances (and arrows) from the lord of the castle. They mastered the game of courtly love, or fin amor, and inspired generations of Romantically-minded poets, from Dante, Petrarch and Chaucer onwards. The bohemian aura of the troubadour persists to this day: the Troubadour Cafe is a legendary performance venue in West London, its tiny stage having been…
  • Machi Tawara, Mount Fuji Tanka Calendar

    Mark McGuinness
    10 Jan 2014 | 3:35 am
    Last summer I had the pleasure of meeting Machi Tawara when she visited the UK to read at the Ledbury Festival. She kindly gave us a copy of her latest book Mount Fuji Tanka Calendar – a collection of tanka for children and adults, with illustrations of Mount Fuji by U.G. Sato. From the publisher’s website: Twenty-four solar terms originally from Ancient China are still used in daily life Japan to signify the subtle changes of seasons. Mount Fuji, the spiritual home of the Japanese, is the motif of this story. See how its appearance changes along with the time of year! One tanka…
  • Charmless and Interesting: Robert Archambeau on Conceptual Poetry

    Mark McGuinness
    3 Aug 2013 | 5:33 am
    There’s a thought-provoking article article on the Poetry Foundation’s Harriet blog, by Robert Archambeau: What Conceptual Poetry Lacks And What It’s Got. In case you, like me, were wondering what he means by conceptual poetry, it turns out to be very similar to the more familiar (ahem) concept of conceptual art, i.e. work in which the idea is the most important part, and the execution (and attendant skills such as craft and technique) is of relatively minor interest. When it comes to art this means that, to put it bluntly, it doesn’t really matter whether you can…
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    Poet Mom

  • Huffington Poet: Susan Rich

    January
    23 Nov 2014 | 3:00 am
    The fabulous Hannah Stephenson has a mini-profile of the equally fabulous Susan Rich at Huff Post. Susan's latest poetry collection is Cloud Pharmacy. Here's an excerpt."And so the story goes. Eventually my own life crossed the border from working class rentals into the middle class. At 19, I left for England to study abroad and dropped out of college to travel. Eventually, with the support of student loans, umpteen waitressing jobs, the Peace Corps, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, Amnesty International and the Fulbright Foundation, I would work in 7 countries from…
  • Misery Islands Book Launch - Recap

    January
    22 Nov 2014 | 1:06 pm
    Thursday night was the official book launch of Misery Islands!This was the first party in a long time in which I had nothing to do with planning. The event was hosted by Mass Poetry cofounders Michael Ansara and Nicco Mele at the St. Botolph Club in Boston. (Nicco received some really good news this week!)The St. Botolph Club is a storied private club known for its advocacy and support of the arts in the Boston area. It's hard to argue in a room with a portrait of Robert Frost looking down on you. The pictures do not properly convey the buzz in the room. What they do convey is…
  • Confession Tuesday

    January
    18 Nov 2014 | 10:07 am
    Happy Tuesday, Folks. Share and share alike! Here's my share:Misery Islands is here! After a delay at the printers, my copies came this morning. Woo hoo!****I've been so busy that I haven't had a chance to post about the book or the good press surrounding its release. Tonight, I have the good fortune to read  my poems with Arts at the Armory in Somerville. I am lucky to be reading a few of my poems at 7 p.m tonight with two wonderful poets, Jacquelyn Malone and Michael Ansara. Mass Poetry is in the house! The First and Last Word Poetry SeriesReading and Open MicMichael Ansara, Jackie…
  • PAD Challenge: Checking in

    January
    18 Nov 2014 | 9:20 am
    It is day 18 of writing a poem a day and I've written 21 poems! Half of them are awesomely bad sonnets for my Juno series, but I finally have drafts down on paper.I'm not lying when I say my sonnets are bad. No meter, terrible end rhymes. But there's something about the story that's compelling. They were easier to write than I thought; I can sit down and have two or three done in a few hours. I'll finish the series, write my drafts, and then decide if they're worth keeping.**** Why do I do this to myself twice a year? Sometimes I think writing is about quantity, not quality--at first. I…
  • Confession Tuesday

    January
    11 Nov 2014 | 8:30 pm
    Happy Tuesday, folks. Share a bit of yourselves today and we promise to do the same.I'm writing a poem a day and so far I'm keeping up. Not easy to do, because I'm working on a sonnet crown. What is a sonnet crown, you ask? It is 15 sonnets. Poems 1-14 use the last line of the previous poem as the first line of the next poem. Poem 15 uses all the lines in the poem. My sonnets are Petrarchan, and--so far--have terrible rhymes and very little meter. My goal was to write them and fix them later.In these poems, I'm telling the story of Juno Larcom a slave who lived in Beverly, MA. She had 12…
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    Daily Poem With Gods Help

  • I’m Tired

    Kenney
    9 Nov 2014 | 5:45 pm
    I’m tired…-———————-I’m tired, Thinking of setting it aside, My desire to write the daily poem, Seems to have died, I will continue to write, As I feel led, But after 5 years, I’m starting to dread, So this may be the last, I write for a while, Or maybe tomorrow, I’ll return with a smile-————–-Original article: I’m Tired©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights Reserved.
  • Alcoholism

    Kenney
    8 Nov 2014 | 4:54 pm
    Alcoholism…-———————- The disease of alcoholism, Is very strange, The I self, me, ism, Has to rearrange, In the first step, I have to admit, This will never work, I cannot quit, that’s the key, To an unlocked door, Because I have an illness, And it wants more, Thank you God, For the time in the space, To see a broken man, With drunk on his face, Today I am grateful, I don’t have to drink, But if I take back the power, I stepped back off to the brink-——————-Original article: Alcoholism©2014…
  • Torn Shoulder

    Kenney
    7 Nov 2014 | 2:31 pm
    Torn shoulder… -————————--It seems that I have torn my shoulder, You know the upper end of my arm holder, it’s supposed to be such a tight little pocket, But it seems now it wants to pop out of socket, The tendon they say that is the issue, I have a tear in that tender tissue, Now I’m waiting for the surgeon to see if he can fix it, Or maybe a balm my wife she could mix it, In God I will trust for he is my source, It all will be fine there’s no need for force-———————--Original…
  • Attacking a Duck

    Kenney
    6 Nov 2014 | 3:11 pm
    Attacking a duck…-—————————-- Earlier today, I went to throw out some scraps, When I saw a hawk on the ground, Out by the traps, OMG what is he doing, he’s attacking a duck, First I thought I need action, Then oh no oh f*** , As I ran forth screaming, And shaking my fist, The hawk got the message, He got my gist, The duck was okay, Yes she seems fine, What can I say, It wasn’t her time, My last two poems, Have been of grey days, That put critters on the prowl, And predators on…
  • A Cloudy Day

    Kenney
    5 Nov 2014 | 5:12 pm
    A cloudy day…-———————-- Today has been a cloudy day, And the rain has been falling down, The Sun did not break the cloudy grey, But not a reason to have a frown, Since the time change I just want to sleep, I can’t seem to keep my eyes open, Yawning eyes just seem to weep, My head on my pillow is hoping,  Goodnight to you one and all, May the Sandman tuck you away, Tomorrow is another day of fall, And yes a rainy day-—————--Original article: A Cloudy Day©2014 Daily Poem With Gods Help. All Rights…
 
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    tweetspeakpoetry.com

  • The Fierce Convictions of Hannah More

    Glynn Young
    25 Nov 2014 | 1:00 am
    She may be the most famous person I never heard of. Hannah More (1745-1833) wrote plays for the great 18th century actor David Garrick. She was a friend of Dr. Johnson (yes, Boswell’s Dr. Johnson). She knew the painter Sir Joshua Reynolds. And Horace Walpole. And Edmund Burke. She worked closely for decades with William Wilberforce to outlaw slavery, and died a few months after seeing that cause successful. She was a poet, and an educator, an intellectual when women intellectuals were frowned upon. Karen Swallow Prior brings More to life in Fierce Convictions: The Extraordinary Life of…
  • A Book of Middles: Silver Dream

    L. L. Barkat
    24 Nov 2014 | 4:00 am
    So you were gone. There was the knife, still on the counter. There was the empty egg carton. You had said you were going to the farm to buy me some golden duck eggs. Nothing less would serve. I believed you. I believe you still. And in your place was an ancient woman with long silver hair, braided in many braids, and eyes as blue as the sea. She was once beautiful, I thought. Like a princess. Or like the coldest, starkest stone which could have been sapphire in another world. But her crown was nowhere to be found, nor the gems I knew must be hers, and she muttered as she ebbed and flowed. I…
  • Whittles and Wood Poetry Prompt: Growth Rings

    Heather Eure
    24 Nov 2014 | 4:00 am
    A cross-section cut through the trunk of a tree reveals its rings. Each visible ring marks the passage of a year, and tells us a little bit about what kind of year it was. The scientific practice of tree-dating is called Dendrochronology. Areas of application include paleoecology (study of past climates and ecologies); archaeology, in which it’s used to date buildings and old art panel paintings; and in radiocarbon dating. Growth rings are the well-kept journal in the life of a tree. Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a poem from Karen we…
  • Poetry for Life: The 5 Vital Approaches

    L. L. Barkat
    22 Nov 2014 | 10:56 am
    In a recent article at The Huffington Post, I pinpointed five vital approaches for creating greater poetry access. These approaches were both a beginning and a continuation of the theme of “poetry for life,” a concept that has been coming to the surface over the past several years here at Tweetspeak. The article drew immediate criticism, to the effect that it was no “call to arms.” I did not take the criticism to heart. But I did consider what it might teach me, as I continued to develop a framework that would update Dana Gioia’s own poetry call to arms (for a…
  • Literary Tour: The Beat Museum, North Beach, San Francisco

    LW Lindquist
    21 Nov 2014 | 4:00 am
    Roughly across the street from City Lights Books in San Francisco’s North Beach neighborhood, and tucked in behind a small bookstore of its own, sits the Beat Museum. I know this not because I saw City Lights on my first visit to the museum, nor on my second (I ran out of battery in my camera on the first, necessitating a repeat visit). I saw it on my third (or fourth, maybe fifth) trip past, when the museum had become a sort of landmark. My son wanted to see nearby Chinatown, and once done, we inadvertently returned to the same place an undisclosed number of times in our…
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    cottonbombs

  • Time Clocked Me In The Face

    cottonbombs
    24 Nov 2014 | 9:49 pm
    This face of time looks more like Jackson Pollack’s Autumn than Cezanne’s still-life of apples and pears cause time is an abstract and that picture of apples and pears isn’t ever going to ripen or rotten like some random splash of paint can be defined in a billion different ways can become a pattern in the eyes of the mad and the committed of anything so furiously that everything they see looks just like it like this poem can never mean what it means to me what it means to you so let’s drink to that.
  • Light So Light

    cottonbombs
    19 Nov 2014 | 8:47 pm
    Light so light doesn’t even feel right in its own sight or even know its existence though it flows through secret tributaries through words known and unknown with words written and words unwritten made up of the same stuff of broken stars shattered into supernovas universes and broken cookies scattered across this milky way lost till finding itself tossed together as crumbs upon this very page meaning far less than we’ll ever know for a poem can never know itself softer than this ink upon this page as fragile as this Tao Itself its pieces became an atlas and other works of fiction…
  • This Close To That

    cottonbombs
    13 Nov 2014 | 8:04 pm
    My fingers set me moving to lead me here and two lines in and I’m still not sure where here is yet I keep typing I could check a dictionary to find the right word I could check an atlas to remind me here I am I could check my philosophy textbook to tell me I think therefore I am or I could check my side-view mirror to see that objects in the mirror are closer than they appear cause right now I only exist in your eyes so you tell me how we got here and I’d be eternally grateful if we could kiss and outlast the next and final line.
  • I Can See Dead Celestial Bodies Naked

    cottonbombs
    9 Nov 2014 | 9:39 pm
    Stars are like ghosts who don’t even know they’re dead as they shine through the night haunting the sleeping with light by pretending still to be alive needing to illuminate these dying embers with a flicker of the eyes an exhale of hot wind resurrects original sin even before the first bite that spark that sets them all alight are the words of dead poets who will will the living to make their peace with death as their verses can kill curses who can know when the moon can eclipse the sun or a streetlight can outglow even a UFO.  
  • Dice With The Universe

    cottonbombs
    6 Nov 2014 | 10:45 pm
    Go back and read this sentence again did it read the same both times? Wait till we get to the end then read it all again then tell me how much these words have changed and grown faster than any wisdom you have ever known except for not touching hot elements few bits of wisdom are as reflexive as love can go either way like the reading of a blood test can say how physically and deeply you loved can be what kills you in the end or like the reading of a urine test can tell you you’re pregnant ultimately it’s all a crapshoot you just get to set the odds and then pee on the results.
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    Hijaabi in the Rain

  • Ramble

    16 Nov 2014 | 3:25 pm
    Compromise is unutterable , an ugly, heavy word, forming uncomfortably in the small print.It was not my intention to write this here , to write this , to write.Sometimes I wonder at the paradox of principle . The excellence in the grandiose , the simplicity in excellence . I demean the latter despite lacking the moral fibre to achieve it.When I think of compromise , I think of betrayal and the bitterness of that gives way to humanity. A compromise rooted in betrayal rooted in compromise.Life has always been full circle and never quite straight lines .Are you feeding a hypocrisy ? Or are you…
  • Numb

    8 Nov 2014 | 11:38 am
    Tell me where it is supposed to hurtOn which wound should my tears stingIf all my veins are lined with hypocrisyMaybe I sold my soul too cheapTook a faith as fleetingCan't even pinpoint whereDid it all go wrong ?I sit with my old self on rainy daysOne foot in the grave , a heart filled with dustOf shameIts strangeMaybe my mind is fireThat my limbs will tastePerhaps your words made knots in my fateTell me where do I beginCrave a silence too deep for a body to withstandBound to that which isn't sacrificedSacrificed along with that which isn't boundForgive me for misendeavorsThe vilified victim…
  • On Beauty and Weddings III

    30 Aug 2014 | 4:52 pm
    Bloodlines disperse with beliefThese generations are untraceableUnteachable , unbelievableI hold my breath when she tells meI feel religiosity stuck in our throatsIt hurts and we divergeLike pebbles in the seaAsk me about beautyI would say she runsLike a glass thread through our heartsTransparency in beingSincerity in action Caught somewhere awkwardWhere unsaid truths tick away another hourThe outcome of our collective childhoodIs bitter sweet tongues andDistance growing weedsA half bloom of flowersthat may never see another springI want to sit where the river splitsI want to…
  • Anonymous

    13 Aug 2014 | 3:36 pm
    Nameless, faceless pills to stifle the egoI am not here to kill my lower selfIf I nurtute her in darkness perhapsThen and only then will she seek lightI should take my hesitations, place themUnder the watching of GodSpeechlessAbsence is an elixr for the restlessAnd such sincerity comes into questionIf the auditorium was emptyHow loud would I speak ?So I'm pealing back the layers to the essenceFind the who behind the whatClarify the why'sBut I am labelledEasily identifiedDiscerning eyes swallow my wordsI speak of goodnessThough there is little goodness in meMay God mask the shame of what I've…
  • Spiritual Limbo II

    28 Jun 2014 | 5:29 pm
    I am lostWanderingVague steps towards GodAssociated negativities pileHearts in their dying breathsPlead , can't you find any goodThe world is muffledThere are layers upon layersNumbing the hurt of livingGuidance flickers in the distanceWhat a beautiful religionWoe to an ugly approachThere are no homes on this borderlineJust a lonely tight ropeTo a garden , they sayBut worldly burdens weighAnd words disappearInto the black canvas of my heart
 
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    Dark Matter

  • Gentrification

    Tony Brown
    24 Nov 2014 | 5:56 am
    Originally posted 7/12/2010.  Original title, “Gentrifying Worcester.” Where I live they’re opening cute bars for the cute, sprucing up streets ahead of the cute, renaming old squares for the cute. This city was never built for cute. We’re the city that either swallowed cute whole or spit it out. Now our throats  are so clogged with glitter we can’t breathe, yet we squabble over  how to swallow even more.   Downtown frets  over how to paint itself more cute while up here on the hills  we’re hoping cute washes off before we can’t recognize…
  • Left Left Right

    Tony Brown
    23 Nov 2014 | 8:10 am
    Originally posted 3/1/2010. Left at the top of the stairs. Another left, then a right.Here’s the blue room I lived in for years,the room I drywalled and painted for myself with my father’s help.It’s still small. It’s still blue. I chose the color  and the embarrassing blue shag carpet. I helped to lay the oak floors that underlie that – beautiful wood I covered with blue shag carpet. Hours fitting new grooves to the just laid tongues, nailing through the new tongues at the right angle. I used to smoke dope out the window with a pipe I made from a radiator valve…
  • The History Of History

    Tony Brown
    23 Nov 2014 | 5:41 am
    Originally posted 11/4/2010. They’re coming for us.  Again, the sound of death-bees in the air.  Again, batons and the hiss of tear gas.  Right back to the bright red world of vigilance we should have been shed of dozens of, hundreds of, thousands of years ago. Hunters are comingwith traps and guns and laws. Our ears are to the ground,listening for the tumbling of their wheels. There be giants coming for us –  god-henchmen, blue hungry curs; every one wolf-eyed, expert and patient. They’re coming in new hides,new weapons, new uniforms,but they have the same old saber…
  • New demo track available on Soundcloud

    Tony Brown
    22 Nov 2014 | 4:40 pm
    Carve on Soundcloud Above, you’ll find a link to a demo recording of my poem “Carve” — something I laid down tonight as a demo for the Duende Project.  If you like it, it’s available as a free download.  Thanks! T
  • How The West Was Won

    Tony Brown
    22 Nov 2014 | 7:41 am
    Originally posted on 3/3/2010.  My 50th birthday, by the way. Watching “The Real Old West” onthe History Channel: blued barrels hanging off leather belts as always; but it seems that the rotgut was mixed with fruit juice, if this is to be believed over the mythology  of bad gin and whiskey shot from dirty glasses, burning neat all the way down. I trust this. It’s more like who we are, telling ourselves we’re tough old cowboysbut too scared of painto dare to toss our poisons backstraight,no chaser.
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    Root Times

  • Death

    Sucay Miranda
    22 Nov 2014 | 10:26 am
    "Death"If you're worried about what happens after you die, worry no more, nothing happens! How do I know? Well, because your body dies! All of your energy will decompose and be sucked by the soil. I was raised a Christian, and I believed in the afterlife. I was concerned with going to hell, because no one wants that. But I was being fooled. Things were not making sense. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was not true. I started to listen to people I previously disagreed with and new thoughts entered my head. I started to notice how things in the Bible were not adding up. You…
  • Life and Social Anxiety

    Sucay Miranda
    24 Oct 2014 | 12:09 pm
    Social Anxiety affects us all in one way or another. I know it has affected me since I was very young. I've always been shy around people. I never had many friends, except for a selected few. I grew up abused by other classmates. I never defended myself when it came to verbal abuse. I just knew that no one could abuse me physically. I always stood up for myself in that regard. But I still felt awkward and ugly most the times. Then I grew up a bit, and realized that they were just jealous. I wasn't that bad looking, I thought I look decent; but, I was still very quiet. Some girls had crushes…
  • Sex is Overrated (Blog)

    Sucay Miranda
    11 Sep 2014 | 10:04 am
    "Sex is Overrated"I will go straight to the point. Sex is overrated. I have experiment with it, so I can have a voice on the matter. If you are virgin, worry not. You're not missing much. I'm not saying it's bad, it's just not what people make it seem like. It's good for about how long it lasts, but as soon as one climax, the fun is over. Again, I am not dissing it. It's just not something to stress over. I cannot prove it, but, I think women enjoy it more than man do. A man's orgasm may last about five seconds, whereas a woman's may last about 15 seconds.Sex is the best natural high there…
  • Forgive (Blog)

    Violines Y magia
    9 Aug 2014 | 10:34 am
    Forgiveness, it's something that we all want, at least if we cared. Sometimes it's hard to forgive somebody, but we need it. Holding grudges is not healthy. But one should forgive from the heart, and not just say "I forgive you." It has to be for real. Holding a grudge may lead to unhappiness, discomfort in your daily life.No one is perfect. Maybe that someone who caused the hurt is very sorry for what they've done, in a very genuine way. Maybe it's hard for them to live with the guilt of what they've done. So, please, forgive them. So you can also go on with your life. So you can be free,…
  • The Art of Being Alone (Blog)

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

  • Her heart was an artifact.

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    15 Nov 2014 | 7:08 am
    By the fence of clear sky-he finds an unusual lopsided shape.His eyes are restless, legs imprinting confinements hands exploring dreams, a sudden bloom, full-stop.The hankering of wordsleaving him in a perpetual coherence, a slow break. A sudden collapse.Her heart was an artifact. She, 'an alien'.She came, experimented and flew away. For him, the arrival was the end.This is the paradox of decorated hearts.The desertification of soul where conquerors- are just beggars. Something like that, nothing more.Muffling snow in her eyes.Her wings, her…
  • Words are like Carbon !!

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    13 Nov 2014 | 10:01 pm
    Wittgenstein said, that which can be shown, cannot be said. Oh, how true he was.How true I am.Words are like carbon. Some mix to form stones and papers. Some are rare diamonds. And I am sapphire. Oh, how egoist of me to say so.For I am, what I make of me. A god in disguise. Or, the devil deceiving.Mirror oh, mirror. Show me that which is not beautiful. Every detail, every function. Don't misjudge. Don't be lost.There is none. Is there ?Life is transcendental. Beauty is universal.Yet, humor is not acceptable. But I have…
  • Recurrent Trio of Heart.

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    3 Nov 2014 | 12:41 am
    Dimensions are shadows-of the recurrent trio of heart.Happiness, sadness and beautiful emptiness.Heartbeats transmuted to love.Love governing the faith.Faith ruled by treachery of lies. Lies carrying the karma. Karma, overshadowing the life. The repetitive cycle. Heartbeats transmuted to love.Recycling karma. Ad Infinitum. 
  • Unknown Constellations, Inbound Metaphors

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    3 Nov 2014 | 12:36 am
    The seeds get confused of trees-Dear brother, why are you here ?what for ?Infertile soil hopingfor miraculous life-Little struggles, her fingertips,rugged pine trees.Dear brother, let me survive !If this planet had a heart, it would beat faster now !Her eyes on temporary delays  his eyes stuck on her eyes- for a while, for a little while. Tree's are illogical !Plato said:'Let none ignorant of geometry enter here'.She would get admitted easily,for she knows the patterns. And her presence is matchless beauty and inclined accuracy. Dear…
  • The Genuine Tragedy

    Adarsha Bhattarai
    3 Nov 2014 | 12:27 am
    I am not sure, if the man mows the grass,or he mows himself. For the heart knows no reasons.It itself is an-extraordinary undertaking. Followed by the highly and lowly instances of oppositions and truths.And while mowing the grass,the man stumbles upon 'love'. Love is the only food, made without any recipes, he says. The mind echoes-'Love is the abyss without any end''Love is the abyss without any end'.Love is simply an error of disguise, you are everything and nothing, the grass says. The mind echoes-'Who is to love if lover,is the absolution of…
 
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    DaPhunkeeProfessor.com

  • Why Is That, Ferguson?

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    25 Nov 2014 | 8:06 am
    Why do events like Ferguson happen?Because the community allows it.Thugs kill each other,thugs kill innocent people...some cops kill all of the aboveand keep walking...and keep walking...and keep...why is that...?R.I.P. Michael Brown
  • Urban Expressionism: The Roots and Influences of Modern Urban Rituals

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    3 Nov 2014 | 12:30 pm
    (RE-PRINT of Article from ChickenBones:A Journal, published in Fall 2004)To keep it in the New World Griot tradition, I summarize my thesis with the following:Excuse me, pardon me, may I have your attention for a few moments. You see, I’m trying to find my brothers and sisters, and cousins. They have been scattered all over the place, but you can recognize us and tell that we’re family when you see us. You see my Daddies name is BAM and my Momma’s name is Hip-hop. So they say, BAM lived up in Harlem but liked to party in the Bronx, ‘cause the Bronx always threw the best parties. Well,…
  • A Cry In The Dark...

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    20 Aug 2014 | 10:54 pm
    Excerpt from "Teeth of a Lioness"In the hot and sultry late summer's night, Yan laid in the dark awaiting her. She enter the room and slowly crawled into the bed. With a soft growl and nibble at his ear, she whispered that she was going to treat him like a tootsie pop...The last thing he remember, before waking up in the hospital was the third lick. As he came to, he saw two pamphlets on the tray next to his hospital gurney: "Instruction On How to Urinate" and "You Can Still Lead A Full and Productive Life"...
  • Producers Notes: Building The Groovalottos Album Pt. 3

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    11 Aug 2014 | 1:00 am
    Whether it's the sweet soul sound of the Delphonics, the southern funk of the Dramatics or the expansive soul of Curtis Mayfield; like any great stew or soup, the quality and success lies within the basis. In the case of soul, funk and blues, it dwells within the rhythm section. Thom Bell's string and horn arrangements on "Ready or Not" are powerful, but would not be as powerful if it were not for the rich groove sustained by the drums and bass below the haunting melody and atmospheric harmonies.In the tradition of Black American, small combo music the structure is traditionally, drums, bass,…
  • Producers Notes: Building The Groovalottos Album Pt. 2

    M *7) - Daphunkeeprofessor
    1 Aug 2014 | 12:15 am
    When listing my producers, I failed to mention one influence who had nothing to do with funk or soul, but was amazingly inventive. George Martin who produced the Beatles albums also came with some serious skills and techniques. His actual background was classical music, which translated well to the expansive work he did with the 'Fab Four' on their Sgt Pepper album. Another producer to pay close attention to is Marcus Miller, owner of some of the best ears in the industry. Having Miles Davis, Luther Vandross, E.U. (Da Butt), The Jamaica Boyz, and Chaka Khan among his credits would make him…
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    Miklos Arany

  • Love & Beauty

    MA
    25 Nov 2014 | 8:44 am
    When they met, was it love? Was it ever? Is it ever? Love, Indefinite as time, greater Than the sun in its radiant Beauty and lesser than cold Shadows cast by the dead. She is always beauty brought To life, an incandescent rose Whether budding or faded. He is just a fire, sometimes A hot flame, sometimes ash. They are two banks, bridge Out, and a river ebbs and Flows between them like A flood in deep desert sands That stretch between sun And moon beneath the stars.
  • Made Up

    MA
    25 Nov 2014 | 8:35 am
    I sometimes flatter myself That I’ve changed someone’s mind Separating the accusation From the accused with a razor wit Distinguishing the feeling From the thought that it engendered Interpreting silence to mean Something other than the darkness That now hides unchanged The mind I never made or even reached
  • Ignorance Is Bliss

    MA
    17 Nov 2014 | 9:10 am
    Minds close up like dead flowers— Most in the glare of information sharp as a scythe on the wing, Some when “light” is merely voiced in the dark.
  • Cherished Belief

    MA
    13 Nov 2014 | 11:42 pm
    Blasphemy, heresy – punishable By fire and sword, breaking and Blood-letting, holy fury unleashed. Belief is fragile as poisoned sugar Because even fanatics know deep Beneath the skin that monuments To faith stand on no ground at all. Even avatars of virtue trade vows Of silence and celibacy, hair shirts And thorns, for secrecy, the furious Delight in the youngest flesh, pain And anger, and unoriginal sin ever Alive behind lives of public decency. Belief is a mask, a pantomime horse, A ridiculous joke on its teller, its Believer, it’s naked and aroused fool. I am a good and kind and…
  • Free World

    MA
    9 Nov 2014 | 11:37 pm
    Love is the seventh wave But every wave is a lie
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    Walking Is Still Honest

  • The Line of Being

    hrholt1986
    25 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    Something Like Guilt by Jared Carnie I had to break a couple of hearts to learn there’s a fine line between being bohemian and being a cunt. When you see it in the eyes of others you realise desire is a little like envy and a lot like insanity. Acceptance is apathy with a more convincing smile and passion – often a cause but never an alibi. —– Jared A. Carnie recently returned from the Outer Hebrides. In August he featured at the Inverness Book Festival. He can be found at prettyneet.wordpress.com.
  • The Incline of Life on The 6th Floor

    hrholt1986
    24 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    Tucking Your Shirt by Cheryl Rice You turn to the window, 6th floor, unbuckle, tuck, buckle your belt for dinner. You’d rather show all Newark your belly than me. The statue in the park across, Civil War hero, patina moustache, bronze uniform, has seen it all here, more than we will in these sanitized blocks the mayor has created for the good of the poets. The window invisible door, one-way scenery, the 6th floor is the 20th for all I care. I undress myself in front of it, jeans to soft gym shorts, elastic ease I need, middle too wide for my jean’s hard waistband, blue oceans of…
  • Then & In Torn Skies

    hrholt1986
    23 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    A repressed screech by Sarah Edwards I was aware when I was 11, but no one else saw the heavy palm, tightening the noose around my aging shawl. It was a withered maroon in color & I lived in a room. I was a girl then & I pretended to run outside my body in every dream, every night. I only realized the blood in my reflection when the claws of some artificial blindness unhooked my training bra, digging & hissing with an easy slurp. The uneven dusk at the corner of my eyes would immerse in a losing battle with a mouthful of limbs, laid bare by unfriendly crows. Cupping my unbloomed…
  • Life’s Desperate, Mumbling Patterns

    hrholt1986
    11 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    Bus Escapes by Zachary Scott Hamilton Chow down on leaves, get Lernaen hydra curling the hair. Angel patterns, shoestring videos Turned walls wallet full on magic money, Expensive shoes, don’t listen Magnets, attracting snarling Tissue, revitalization, early symbolic Month, wait, safe grey, Turnover flowers, aquamarine, ruby, lit, cash triangle, Rubix, patchwork, young girls clean walls,…
  • The Lean Lines of What Comes Last

    hrholt1986
    10 Nov 2014 | 8:00 am
    Love Lines by Chad Parenteau Shift’s end one more whiskey pours out last light. Barstools lean, napkins slip notes spell lines for no one. Last train waits metronecked deadeyed almost missed by me. Commuterwhores scrap change from fare never cross my book. This is always about me. Every train eventually mine assholes to asphalt. Last leg half sleeping last first up finally no one stiff. ————— Chad Parenteau is a poet living in Boston. He hosts the weekly Stone Soup Poetry series in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His book, Patron Emeritus, was released from…
 
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    Gatsby's Abandoned Children

  • #RuntRaccoonRevolution

    Jeremiah Walton
    14 Nov 2014 | 10:04 am
    A great swarm of raccoons riding camels wanders night confused and sad, fighting that sadness with involuntary spasms of mediocrity. They foamed at the mouth, not knowing what to do but wanting to do anything They were mournful of mornings and depressed looking at the Moon ignoring them A Facebook post told them to change & they did, slaughtered into strings of commercial exhales, happy, almost happy, pissy, just as much there & alone. Another group of raccoons once developed angry table manners & smoked cigarettes off street corners dirty & tired aiming at anything with great…
  • 21st century competitive logic

    Jeremiah Walton
    12 Nov 2014 | 1:54 pm
    “Hey guys, let’s make money and die, cause that’s what life is all about. I am a media saturated bubble of societal loneliness, but have never felt happier! Fuck you, I’m getting my way. Once I’m rich, I’ll never experience anything outside happiness in the entire relative spectrum of emotion I am capable of.” Tagged: author, authors, class, creative writing, culture, Greed, happiness, lit, literature, loneliness, money, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, rant, rich, wealth, writers, writing
  • Bumping into self on a gloomy walk alone on the tracks

    Jeremiah Walton
    7 Nov 2014 | 10:02 am
    Walking alone letting the quiet thoughts knock. “Hello” Tagged: author, authors, creative writing, lit, literature, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, walking, writer
  • Do not let childhood die

    Jeremiah Walton
    4 Nov 2014 | 10:18 am
    This is the skeleton key.  Childhood wonder, when the world is a new place yet to compose your dreams into a noose.  Fight the age orientated onset of apathy, fight apathy.  The devil bone debt will only increase as you apply more and more chains to your ankles and wrists, tongue and eyes.  Ahhh, christ, fuck the metaphor.  Live what freedom truly means through your personal definition.  Find someone you Love, be ready to take a bullet, be ready to lose some teeth.  You’re going to smash your mouth off concrete I don’t know how many times.  Look up with a busted smile,…
  • Choking on Moonbeams

    Jeremiah Walton
    3 Nov 2014 | 12:26 pm
    I’ve been creating video poems trying to experiment with new mediums for literature.  What do you think?  Your thoughts are appreciated.  Cheers! Tagged: 21st century, alt lit, art, artist, author, authors, creative writing, culture, internet poetry, jeremiah walton, lit, literature, moonbeams, poem, poems, poet, poetry, video, video poetry, videos, writer, writing
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    Poetic Hope

  • What a Feast

    25 Nov 2014 | 6:51 am
    For the National Poetry Month Challenge that I am involved in we were challenged with writing a poem that put senses together that do not normally go together. The first thought that I had ended up resulting in a poem about hope. However that did not quite fit the parameters so I wrote this one instead and the results of it make me laugh every time I read it.What a FeastOh what joyI get to meet another Before my days grow to longWhat is this music Of which you speakHow does it taste?How does blue feelIs it sweet or bitter?Please oh please tell meIs cold really loudOr is it more on the quiet…
  • Taste the Sun

    24 Nov 2014 | 6:53 am
    This poem was written as part of a National Poetry Month Challenge. This challenge gave different challenges each day to write a poem about. This particular challenge was given with the idea of comparing two different feelings that you normally do not associate with each other. What I was able to create turned into a reference for hope and I must say that I like what I was able to create. There is a certain beauty about the poem that is almost peaceful in nature. The last stanza nicely wraps up the whole poem. Taste the SunI feel the storms a brewin'But I can still taste the sunSo all will be…
  • Yes It's Real

    22 Nov 2014 | 9:31 am
    For months on end I have seen a growing doubt within Deanne’s heart and as I saw it I would go and love her more and more. I would try to lift her and help her see more of her worth but still I would see the doubt grow and grow. What I realized is that she has been doubting whether or not she was good enough for me. There has also been doubts of whether or not I am real and if our whole marriage has just one big dream.I have pondered long and hard on this idea and what I have learned is that my Angel Queen simply needs to see more of the same strength that I see in her. She looks to me as…
  • Without You

    21 Nov 2014 | 6:56 am
    There are times in life when you will be drawn away from those you love but that does not mean that you need to be without their love. Without YouWithout youI could not hope to dreamWithout youMy heart would never know to flyWithout youI would be nothingWithout youI might hope to be less than nothingWithout youIs something I never have to fearFor never will I beWithout youNever will time find a place where I would beWithout youNever would a distance come so great where I would beWithout youAnd you will never be Without meDistance may comeTime may passTrials my hinderBut never will you…
  • The Strength You Cannot See

    20 Nov 2014 | 6:50 am
    There has been more than one person that I have ran into who has been struggling with something that seemed to be beyond their control, and who were trapped in a prison of sorts, without any sort of hope. When I see this I feel a great amount of pity for them, as I know personally the weight they bear upon their hearts. Hidden within this poem are some of those things that I do to find hope in life, and find a joy to carry me though the hard times.The Strength You Cannot SeeHow do you find hopeWhen things are going wrong?What about when your father might be dying?How about if you have fears…
 
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    A Blog By Rohan Bhardwaj

  • A Poem On Friendship

    rohan bhardwaj
    21 Nov 2014 | 11:28 pm
    We all have friends, some have 5000 friends on social network, some have 1000's in real life. But, we all know many of the friends are just an introduction friend. We say hi to them and that's the most interaction we ever had.Having the best friend is not a search which needs to be end, it is process which you need to take as you grow up. In childhood, our best friends might be different, but once we grow up, we become mature and then is the true friendship's test.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • Suicide Of A Human

    rohan bhardwaj
    19 Nov 2014 | 5:12 am
    It happens with most of , the suicidal thoughts come in our life. Many of us get rid of it, some apply it and some live it with forever. This is a critical issue and it needs to be addressed.Wondering what this article will be about?It is really a step by step procedure to commit a suicide. If you have wandered how to go about it, then this is the right place. Lets get started.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • I Once Loved

    rohan bhardwaj
    14 Nov 2014 | 12:08 am
    Love is an amazing experience and there isn't anyone stopping you from experiencing it. Just make sure you don't overdo it and harass someone in the process.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • Money Is Sweet

    rohan bhardwaj
    9 Nov 2014 | 11:21 pm
    Money is the best thing in the world, it buys you everything you need, it helps you in most of the tough times and even if it doesn't in multiple emotional situation, then too its presence makes us comfy.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
  • A Poem On Waiting

    rohan bhardwaj
    6 Nov 2014 | 5:14 am
    We all wait for out turns everyday. Most of the times we are pleasant and thus read to wait, but when things go out of hand, then we lose our temper. There is a common saying, losing temper won't help. The irony is we all know it and still keep doing it.Read more » © copyright 2014 – All rights reserved rohanbhardwaj.com
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