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Showing posts from 2016

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

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Merry Christmas and Happy New Year From Stanzaic Stylings

Snow Goddess Sabrina by Joanne Olivieri

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Sabrina, Photo by Gary Hoshiyama

Sabrina, Photo by Gary Hoshiyama
Me and Sabrina @ The Culver Club in Culver City, CA Photo by Gary Hoshiyama



Snow Goddess

For Sabrina

Her eyes reflect
the Sun’s kiss
as she walks
upon water.

Her wisdom traced
on paw print sands
as she softly treads
along the shore.

She dreams
of snow-laden earth
while paws frolic
upon icy sea foam.

Sabrina, goddess of snow
spreads warmth
melts hearts
on Winter’s playground

with love…

joanneolivieri.weebly.com
mypoeticjourney.weebly.com

Courageous Woman By Desiree Cady

Courageous Woman
By Desiree Cady

I don't know how you do it
How you keep faking your beautiful smile
When I know the pain you've known
Keeps you walking those extra miles

You say that faith gets you through
You owe it to your prayers
I look at you in disbelief
I can't help but to stop and stare

You possess a strength inside you
Precious and unique
You say what needs to be said
When others are too frightened to speak

You hold within you a power
So unbelievably strong
You say what is on your mind
Even when you know it may be wrong

You stand up tall, You stand and fight
Through so many of your demons
So many others would lie down and fail
For so many different reasons

Do me a favor for just this once
Take a hard look inside of you
There is such tremendous bravery
In everything you do.

©2016


Bio I am a 33 year old mother of two beautiful girls who have been my saving grace. After a brutal attack a few years ago, I have been plagued by PTSD. After the attack and a few suicide attempts, I vowed to tell my …

Dinner Is Served by Crystal Price

DINNER IS SERVED
I'll eat you raw... I'll sip you dry... I'll stew your insides... While I snack on your cries...
I'll garnish your tenders... I'll season your loins... I'll dress your openings... Sell your rarities for coin...
I'll bask you in sauces... I'll drench you in wines... I'll sauté your flesh... Leave no scraps behind...
I'll seat you front and center... Watch you get what you deserve... I'll lift my glass in merriment... Alas, dinner is served
©Crystal Price ©Crystal Cunha ©2015

Bio: 
Name: Crystal Price Age: 34 Residence: Fresno, CA
I started writing poetry as a preteen living in the foster care system. Poetry was the oxygen that kept me from becoming an emotional vegetable. Poetry me & I it. Poetry is my life support, and my survival has, & always will depends on it.

PLAYPEN OF PIGS by Crystal Price

PLAYPEN OF PIGS
They drug me raw... While you lamed me...
No birdies... Just black...
Spats of disapproval... Limbs have no value here...
Teasing me with end's prospect... Stuffing my listeners with wet oink...
Bleek for the hopeful... Some asphalt, some sand... Meek for the naive... Not abuse, just men being men...
In the eyes of passerbys... Fear dances a jig... A hooved dedication... In the playpen of pigs
©Crystal Cunha ©Crystal Price ©2015

Bio: 
Name: Crystal Price Age: 34 Residence: Fresno, CA
I started writing poetry as a preteen living in the foster care system. Poetry was the oxygen that kept me from becoming an emotional vegetable. Poetry me & I it. Poetry is my life support, and my survival has, & always will depends on it.

It All Comes Down To You by Melissa R. Mendelson

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It All Comes Down To You by, Melissa R. Mendelson
Swallow me down, so I can return back into the womb, where evil can’t penetrate the fabric of time as I lie safe inside of you. Bring me inside, so my body becomes yours. And we can become one as well as untouchable for love is stronger than hate. Enter my mind, and stay with me for dark times lie ahead, where nobody can survive alone. Seal me in to those memories you carry, so I’ll always be remembered as well as the times we’ve shared. Take me back from the arms of depression and put hope into my heart as I look deep into your eyes while your arms are wrapped around me to protect me from harm. Carry me off into the sweetest dream, where I can be happy and sleep peacefully. Fill me up because my fear has drained me, and I have no energy to stand. Take my hand and pull me back up because I feel like I am falling down this huge, dark hole as more terror strikes above and leaves the ground crumbling, but I won’t become lost as long as you don’t let go.

Stripped by Crystal Price

STRIPPED

You stripped away my right to choose...
Stuffed my lips with hatred...
Forced my hands to unsow good seeds...
Lamed my limbs through calculated savagry...
You are no more than a cowering simpleton...
A starving jackal in a field of sheep...
Stop right where you are...
Your business here is done...
You have sealed every fate...
Uprooted all that could be moved...
Move along now...
Your work here is done!
©Crystal Cunha ©Crystal Price ©2015

Bio: 
Name: Crystal Price Age: 34 Residence: Fresno, CA
I started writing poetry as a preteen living in the foster care system. Poetry was the oxygen that kept me from becoming an emotional vegetable. Poetry me & I it. Poetry is my life support, and my survival has, & always will depends on it.

Literally, My Neck by Jerry Durick

Literally, My Neck
I travel here and there at break neck speeds stick my neck out when I must, and happily recall when I could neck for hours on end, but at times my neck can also become something quite literal, literally that stem between my torso and head, the vertebrae I’ve seen posed painfully in x-rays, that DMZ I’ve counted on for years the link I need to help me nod and turn my head when someone who turns heads goes by, hold my head up despite the circumstances, bow it when I feel humbled, I’ve clothed it in neckties and scarves, necklaces and chains, stretched it, hid it, know I could hang by it, can stretch it too far a guillotine awaits, my executioner tests his blade sends this preview, this literal pain in the neck that doesn’t go away, impervious to pills and ready to follow me through my neck of the woods.


J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Social Justice Poetry,Tuck Magazine, Yellow Chair …

Torrid sincerity by Daginne Aignend

Torrid sincerity


If I could build a bridge
out of sunshine
And only sincere-hearted
people could cross it
without getting the
soles of their feet burned
How many would beg
for a rain shower to
ease the pain
...
Probably I would make a
nice profit, selling
burn ointments and
blister plasters at the
opposite side


© Daginne Aignend


Bio
Daginne Aignend is a pseudonym for the Dutch poetess Inge Wesdijk.
She likes hard rock music, photography and fantasy books. She is a vegetarian and spends a lot of time with her animals.
Daginne started to write English poetry four years ago and posted some of her poems on her Facebook page and on her website
www.daginne.com

eastward by Laura Minning

e a s t w a r d
I turn eastward to allow the radiance of the sun to light my way.
And I allow the moon to descend without grace from Heaven’s warmth and peaceful embrace.
My hopes have been liberated from the chains that were made to bind them.
And I bask in the knowledge that I have been victorious over all of the pain and suffering that I have chosen to leave far behind.
~laura j. minning excerpt from “a verbal collage”
c. november2006

brcartandpoetry.wordpress.com
Laura Minning began writing creatively at the age of nine. She’s become an award winning published poet and author since that time. All in all, she’s had one-hundred and seven individual poems, six articles, two books, two plays and one piece of prose published in both hard copy and on-line. Her work has been featured in publications like “Literature Today”, “Amulet Magazine” and “Slate & Style”.
Laura received her first Editor’s Choice Award in 1993 for “bronx zoo” and her first International Merritt of Poetry Award in 1995 for “introspe…

Iridescent by Lynn Long

Iridescent 
silken
strands 
intricately 
woven
disband
For 
again 
and 
again
the 
spider
will 
spin
Until 
her
web 
of 
magnificence
becomes
a
deadly
trap 
of
silence

Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

The Paperback by Sandy Hiss

The Paperback
She loved to read thrillers in the safety of her warm bed. The cashmere throw purred on her lap like an orange tabby while her fingers stroked the
virgin paper. The paperback held endless possibilities; she felt the excitement building up into goosebumps. The curious moon stepped on top of a cloud, trying
to get a better view between slats of vinyl shades; they thought him rude, a voyeur, invading their personal space.  This was a private show and he wasn't
invited. Page after page, she turned her  fears into aphrodisiacs, swallowing them  whole until she was full. Never feeling  the ache that throbbed in her heart. 


Bio:  Gracen Hiss writes poetry and fiction. Her latest poetry chapbook, The Lilac City, was published by Origami Poems Project.  Her first novel, a gothic fantasy, The Rosegiver, was published in February 2016.She enjoys horror/mystery movies & books, wandering through old cemeteries, and perusing antique shops. Gracen currently resides in Southern California with h…

Ceremony of a Kind by Neil Ellman

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(painting by Perle Fine)



Ceremony of a Kind
(after the painting by Perle Fine)

In celebration of the day our world ended and a new one born swaddled in a cloth of stars we march to the beat of a distant drummer and raise our flags to victory and the magical arrogance of the children we were.
It is a ceremony of a kind with ritual sacrifice letting of blood effigies on fire and painted faces to mask our misgivings and our fear no longer children we parade beneath the arches of a life we had left behind.
We are the inheritors of a history forgotten or never learned that we shall repeat because we have no other choice.

Neil Ellman is a poet from New Jersey.  He has published numerous poems, more than 1,000 of which are ekphrastic and written in response to works of modern art, in print and online journals, anthologies and chapbooks throughout the world.  He has been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize and twice for Best of the Net.
Editors Note: This is an ekphrastic poem and based on a work of modern art. The tit…

I Believe In Trees by Joan McNerney

I Believe in Trees
Those silent citadels standing against long nights of wind and cold.
Broken willow bramble scratches a pale sky after yesterday’s ice storm.
Each spring small buds blossom as bugs and butterflies orbit boughs.
Green new leaf fits your hand so perfectly. The future lies in your palm.
Birds reciting litany in woods. Each rainfall the forest  grows taller, more verdant.
Summer afternoons…trees sashay in sunshine showing off their emerald gowns.
Winds sway maple branches. Leaves drop like butterflies falling to the warm earth.
Red yellow brown carpets of crunchy foliage spread over roads welcoming us.


Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four …

Effective Immediately by Joan McNerney

Effective Immediately
I want to become an Ambassador for Rain!
Why the bad image? Birds love rain.  Tweeting through dry spells for water. They flutter from leaf to bud for a sip.
It’s super creative… feeding tree roots, wild flowers. Without rain…no blessed blue lakes, rivers, streams.
Open your eyes.  Rain clings  to window panes, miniature globes of splendor.  Listen as pitter pattering skips over rooftops.
Consider your thirst for  liquid pleasures. Gather up in green reverie. Dance barefoot on this emerald earth joining me in jubilant chorus.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations. 

On The Plain by David Francis

On the Plain

The wind has drowned out the footsteps
behind me
and the telephone lines
go my way
like trees beside a road --
I am looking for
the ones that cross.
I see tall buildings in the distance:
there's nothing to obscure them.
I realize the past is not
what I want; but I'm lonely.
I want to stop.
I want to go back.
I'm tempted to.

But I have to catch up,
carrying a heavy load.


Biography:

David Francis has produced five albums of songs,
one of poems, and "Always/Far," a chapbook of
lyrics and drawings.  His film "Village Folksinger"
has been screened in New York, Texas, Connecticut
and England.  David's poems and stories have
appeared in a number of journals and anthologies.
http://davidfrancismusic.com/

The Protagonist by Laura Minning

t h ep r o t a g o n i s t
I am a beacon of hope, on a wet and rainy day.
While forming a shelter from heaven’s tears and clouds subject to decay.
I am always on hand, where ever droplets can be found, so take me for granted because I’ll always be around.

~laura minning excerpt from “a verbal collage” c. november 2006
Laura Minning Exhibiting Abstract Artist, Published Poet & Author brcartandpoetry.wordpress.com
Laura Minning began writing creatively at the age of nine. She’s become an award winning published poet and author since that time. All in all, she’s had one-hundred and seven individual poems, six articles, two books, two plays and one piece of prose published in both hard copy and on-line. Her work has been featured in publications like “Literature Today”, “Amulet Magazine” and “Slate & Style”.
Laura received her first Editor’s Choice Award in 1993 for “bronx zoo” and her first International Merritt of Poetry Award in 1995 for “introspection” by the National Library of Poetry. Poetry.c…

Healing a Broken Soul by Desiree Cady

Healing a Broken Soul

You shivered when I touched you
Although my hands were warm
You bundled yourself up in protective clothing
Though the bright skies show no sign of storm

A bitter heart is broken
A soul I see you've lost
All of the people in your past
They've hurt you..just see what it has cost

You cannot go on living
In a world where you are full of fear
How do I do it you ask
Listen closely, let me whisper in your ear

I have gone back to the trusting
Little girl I used to know
So convinced the world means well
Yes, it is delusional I know

I put on a happy front
Place a smile upon my face
Take myself somewhere else
A much better place

I tell myself I could remain
Damaged broken and bruised
But that would be just one more way
I would be allowing myself to be used

So I remember how much love
I once had inside my heart
I provide that to the world
And tell myself I am doing my part

You may see me as caring,
trusting and naive
At times I do appear to carry
My heart upon my sleeve

But deep inside I am always …

Snow by Jerry Durick

Snow
The man we made-up -- dressed and groomed -- is gone now.
The man we grew -- added to, subtracted from -- is gone now.
The man we built -- talked to, laughed with -- is gone now. 
The man we created -- wished for, planned on -- is gone now.
Perhaps, we'll find his hat or gloves sometime and hear his voice fading just out of reach.
But the man we knew would be gone one day is gone now.

J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Social Justice Poetry,Tuck Magazine, Yellow Chair ReviewSynchronized Chaos, and Haikuniverse.