Poem submission by ben-davis-poetry Nature God In a tree In a field On grass Mountain top In storms Under sun On two feet Running fast Snow angel Moon dweller True to life Human nature Touching god Feeling world One universe And one soul.
Mary Kinzie's "Theine"
Mary Kinzie’s interest in the expressive fragmenting of language gives her verse a particular poignancy - a kind of a melancholy nod to the passing beauty and potential of our words. - Knopf Poetry Team *** Theine If compelled to give it up I would lift as leaves do ...
The World and I
Poem submission by nicedice Sometimes i dive into the ocean just to feel the blue. And i pick the peaches from trees because i like the sound of separating stem from branch. I’ll often walk along any road i please to feel something solid beneath my feet. And i wonder sometimes what the world does to me just for the simple pleasures. Is the breeze because it likes the feel of my hair...
A poem submission by T.L. Kirk I pull warm words out from my pocket and Splatter them on yellowing leaflet pages A literary Jackson Pollock I stand over my canvas, Let the brush dance and Fill the floor with a series of pirouettes and pliés Won’t the crowd love me? Litter my feet with round, red roses But please, Remove the thorns
Poem submission by seesheflies You’re typical: cigarettes and liquor and tailored, fitted hats, with shoes that blend seamlessly with the dirt, the earth, the nature of our youth. Dark, but iridescent, eyes that change with the passing of your memories fade and return, unmoved. And what left, but an empty glass and ring on the table of condensation—condescension— gliding...
Laurie Sheck's A MONSTER'S NOTES
In poet Laurie Sheck’s reimagining of Mary Shelley’s famous monster, the creature we come to know is a highly sensitive observer of the strange lives and works of human beings (who’ve shunned him, with the partial exception of Mary herself; in Sheck’s telling, she meets him at her mother’s graveside as a girl, and later draws upon their relationship to create the novel)....
excerpts from a dead sea
Poem submission by Harley Prechtel-Cortez I breathed new life into some old language swimming around my head. I deciphered it’s meanings and gave it lungs from the remains of muted gills. Now I swallow pain night and day in the vain of things still left to say. My aquatic grandfather spoke a Cherokee tongue but that was before that teary eyed trail left him blind. In this cuneiform-ed...
Poem submission by Enrique Rosas A man came for a job His English was okay And his dress was tidy. He was not slow, He checked often for full garbage bags, He walked back and forth And asked if there was something else he could do He was here for two days The excuse for him being fired was, He did not sweep or mop properly. Really? Is that so? Well then how come others have stayed, ...
Chambers of the Heart
Poem submission by peaceindiscord Icy as the chill of a winter breeze, Fiery as the sting from the frozen seas. Wild as the tears from a child’s cries, Calm as the pierce from young staring eyes Behind each soul, a story untold, Unlock the secret, and a world unfolds. Heart’s still beating, but life is still This world anew, is yours to fill. Paint the skies and add new lands, Turn stars to...
Poem submission by Benvenuto Garisto Words cannot express, So I will make a new alphabet! A new language! New stories! New libraries! I will make new dungeons to house it’s secrets. I’ll make new voices that can’t be heard and have no sound. I’ll make it all! I’ll make new legends, new legacies, new testaments, and lore, I’ll make everything and nothing, I’m yearning for more! More towers, more...
W. H. Auden's "Leap Before You Look"
W. H. Auden’s social, political, and personal consciousness—not to mention his well-rhymed music—hits a tonic note even seventy years later, in our own disorganized time. - Knopf Poetry Team *** Leap Before You Look The sense of danger must not disappear: The way is certainly both short and steep, However gradual it looks from here; Look if you like, but you will have to leap. ...
Jonathan Galassi's "Pretzels"
In Jonathan Galassi’s Left-handed, a transformation unfolds in three powerful sections, as the book’s speaker, at midlife, tries for what he calls in the first section, “A Clean Slate.” He feels his way through a difficult, if at times exhilarating, middle passage (“A Crossing”), to arrive at last at the tentative joys he discovers in the final group of poems in...
The last page
Poem submission by Guy Peace Days pass by like pages flapping in the wind One by one, Many in one go Often And then the last page goes And you turn all over again From the first one Memories erase memory Days days Leaving me blank Leaving me alone at last
Poem submission by Amy Li Baksh There is a cloud over my house It rained and rained, and I am trapped. A cloud over my house That I built up so fine and neat The water dripped in, and I have no bucket. A cloud over my house My third house, built this time of stone Not the soft thatch that blew away with the winds Not the twigs I had gathered that snapped to bits. There is a cloud over my house I...
The sound of your soul
Poem submission by Josh Wilson
Don Marquis and Archy's "a spider and a fly"
For those who don’t know Archy, he was the cockroach poet who used the typewriter of his “boss,” Don Marquis, a columnist for the New York Sun from 1916 into the 1930s, in order to type out his poems, which then became the fodder for Marquis’s highly popular Sun Dial column. Together with his sidekick, the cat Mehitabel (she claimed to have been Cleopartra in a previous life), Archy...
Another Rainy Thursday
Poem submission by Michael Malpiedi Noon of today the cumulonimbus Discharged fulminological wisdom to my being And poured drops of knowledge lost to us. Whispered of how she wonders about our fleeing From her gentle precipitating kiss, And she asked if truths are not worth seeing. She told me that maybe ignorance’s bliss Has caused us to forget our creation From the combination of rains such...
Poem submission by copyists A winsome man, who At half past twelve every day Asks for a water and a decaf, Waters the plant On one coffee shop table And under the careful lamp light, His eyes would retreat Into thought of I don’t know what But he would gently Sip the rest of his coffee, Complete a crossword, Tuck his chair in And leave, newspaper under arm, With those same eyes. I thought I...
Poem submission by Janée Romesberg dear starving stream running beside the three-lane highway, i see you nibbling at its bank, trying to fill your belly- rebelling against progress the only way you know how. you are small and you are hungry but graze elsewhere, else the traffic currents and blacktop rapids decide to sweep you away and drive you under. then, you will be filled but no one will...