Friday, April 21, 2017

Stars by Lynn Long

Stars

A kaleidoscope 
Of iridescent diamonds
Illuminate night



Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

The Hedgerow Fairies by Lynn White

The Hedgerow Fairies

Where have they gone,
the hedgerow fairies 
in their harebell hats?
I used to see them sitting
under their leafy roofs 
stitching their summer dresses
of poppy and mallow petals
with long silk threads 
catching the summer sunlight
as the smiling spiders spun.
I miss them so,
the hedgerow fairies
in their harebell hats.

I used to see them collecting
armfuls of meadow sweet
to stuff their nighttime mattresses,
making doorways in their new
toadstool homes with sharp stones.
Maybe they’ve gone underground
to escape the passing cars and tractors.
Maybe they only come out at night now
and stitch and stuff under the moonlight.
I don’t know.
But I miss them so,
the hedgerow fairies
in their harebell hats.

First published in Vox Poetica,  2016





Bio:
Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem 'A Rose For Gaza' was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud 'War Poetry for Today' competition 2014. This and many other poems, have been widely published, in recent anthologies such as - ‘Alice In Wonderland’ by Silver Birch Press, ‘The Border Crossed Us’ from Vagabond Press and ‘Selfhood’ from Trancendence Zero - and journals such as Apogee, Firewords Quarterly, Guide To Kulchur, Indie Soleil,Midnight Circus and Snapdragon as well as many other online and print publications.

Find Lynn at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts and lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com

Thursday, April 20, 2017

To Thee by Joanne Olivieri

Photo by Joanne Olivieri
A tribute to Christopher Marlowe's The Passionate Shepherd to his Love



To Thee

Upon thy lips
pure nectar sweet
I share a kiss with thee

For soft as silk
I pray thee will
come love and be with me

Unto thine eyes 
my soul decree 
thou heart to cherish be

As pure as light
my love this night
I freely give to thee.



Lack of Lamps by David Francis

Lack of Lamps


In the cheap hotels
where the porter sleeps
in the stagnant air
coming through the window

in all the rooms
no matter the area
no matter the station
no matter the floor

so you cling to streetlights
you notice simple fountains
you look for the sun
you look in her eyes

someday you will ask
someday you will buy
but they will never give
they will never give

they will only give flowers
they will give the special of the day
they will give you the key
they will give you water

but there is a famine
there is a shortage
there is a lack
and you have to compensate

you have your vision
you have your hearing
you smell the food
that tastes so good

you turn the light off
you feel the darkness
you wonder about time
you sleep to wake

you listen hard sometimes
you laugh at private jokes
the darkness is without
the fire you have within




Biography:
David Francis has produced six albums of
songs, one of poems, and "Always/Far,"
a chapbook of lyrics and drawings.  His
film "Village Folksinger" has been screened
in the US and the UK.  David's poems and
stories have appeared in a number of
journals and anthologies.
www.davidfrancismusic.com

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Call of the Wild by C. David Hay



Photo by Joanne Olivieri - Ocean Beach Sunset 




Call of the Wild

The call of the wild is a restless voice
Of wind and sky and sea;
Beckons all — both great and small
With the yearning to be free.

It drives snow geese in autumn skies
And answers the coyote’s cry;
Blows in the mist of mountain crests
And lifts the eagle high.

The thunder of the river’s plunge,
The whisper of the desert’s dune;
Nature sings a thousand songs
To her jeweled and mystic tune.

The call of the wild is a will within
To venture where few have trod,
With a captive sound that makes hearts pound —
It must be the voice of God

(Previously published in Ya'Sou! Ezine)


C. David Hay is a retired dentist living in Indiana and Florida. He received his BS  and Doctor of Dental surgery Degrees from Indiana University. He is the author of five books of poetry which are dedicated to his wife, Joy. He has been widely published nationally and abroad and his poetry has been read on the British Broadcasting Channel. He was the first American published in the Nezavisimaya Gazeta in Russia. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry and is the recipient of the Ordo Honoris  Award from Kappa Delta Rho.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

I Will Survive by Desiree Cady

I Will Survive


I will survive 
Because it was not too long ago
That I once walked away
From a devil in disguise 

I will survive
Because I have been broken down before
Though this time without you
There is a lack of life sparkling in my eye

I will survive 
because I know that as much as it hurt before
It hurts a thousand times more now
But there is one thing I still have in this life

I will survive
Because I have two beautiful girls
I have to survive because I am their hero
And there is no doubt that they are mine

I will survive 
Though I don't have the slightest clue how
But I will survive because how I handle this
Will teach my children how as they watch with their innocent angel eyes

©2017 Desiree Cady


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 story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone. 
I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that will come out mid - November.
You can find more of my work at
Www.Facebook.com/Gemini.allure 

Heart Over Mind by Desiree Cady

Heart Over Mind

They say follow your heart
She is supposed to know the way
But she is running away with my emotions
Which is making for a wonderful today

What if she is falling 
Just a little bit too fast?
So scared she may be wrong
Lord knows she was in the past

So she has decided
To have a conversation with her mind
Despite what her heart says
She will take each day one at a time

She will not put up those walls
Guard herself from possible pain
There is no need to judge this ray of sunshine
By the ones who brought her rain

Live in the very moment
Take a step away from the past
The mind says give it a chance
Maybe the heart is right...
Maybe this one will last


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 story and help inspire others to get help and to know that they are not alone. 
I am currently wrapping up two manuscripts for publication and am set to be published in an upcoming anthology that will come out mid - November.
You can find more of my work at
Www.Facebook.com/Gemini.allure 

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Medley and April Blue by Joan McNerney

Medley

April quietly turns

emerald green.

Breezes shake apple

blossoms… an aromatic

blizzard.

Listen to this soft

symphony of raindrops.

After showers, gardens

of stars flower.

Evening is the dawn

of night time.

Meteors write poetry

across heaven.





April Blue

This is when we search for

color to transform cold grey.

Rainfall begins its magic

high lighting sky blue.

We see stacks of luminous clouds

as plants pop out and forsythia

bursts sparkling yellow stalks.

Just today a breath of warmth

brought alive crepe myrtle.

Aromatic lilac bushes cluster in

soft bunches while birds and bugs

encircle them.  Ten trees all dressed

up in lustrous greens boogie through

noontime breezes.

Spring is waiting for us!

What Comes Next by Jerry Durick

What Comes Next
“This is the Hour of Lead – 
Remembered, if outlived"

Like a freezing person 
recollects the cold – 
I feel the hour of lead, 
that formal feeling 
come on -- 
the way she said it would – 
the careful phone call 
the messages, arrangements, 
flowers and all – 
my ceremonious nerves
and my questioning heart
as stiff as mechanical feet
go about their business
the wooden way
of outliving this new pain
and, of course, this feeling 
that follows me
like a shadow.

 

Monday, April 10, 2017

Moon by Lynn Long


Moon

Your light inspires
Illuminating the night
Embracing my soul


Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.








Haiku Series 1 by Joanne Olivieri







Summer rains
the urban pavement
a concrete ski slope




orange sunset
tequila sunrise
at last call




beach bonfire
his alcohol breath
fuels the flames





sunbathing
she burns toast
for breakfast




morning sun rises
across Eastern skies
an orange smoothie




desert Summer
sans humidity
her hot flash lingers





cumulus clouds
pattern the sky
cotton candy




moonlight stroll
a spider
webs his way through darkness




hot air balloons
his speech goes in one ear
and out the other





Summer night
crickets scatting jazz tunes
my ear wax gone




midsummers dream
fantasies
in high definition




sunrise minuet
he hits the snooze button
and sleeps in





high tide
low tide
the yin yang of it all




quietude envelops the trees
leaves speak foreign tongues
ancient manuscript




a diverse species
hugging limbs
sharing the wind’s breath





mingling leaves
standing free
a natural commune




union square
a frenzied chaos
cries without you




a nonsensical
delirium on the rocks
shaken not stirred, Cheers!





cherry blossoms
blanket barren branches
Spring snowflakes




sky, ocean and earth
meet beyond the horizon
daily reunion




the sand dollar
rests upon the shore
seaside sands of time





unfold my petals
tonguing plucked
a sensuous touch




behind fog
the sea plays hide n seek
morning escapades




the horizon debut
where sea meets land
a commingling





dreams planted
seeds of life
Spring resurrection




perfection yet seen
insignificant am I
my beauty astounds




you sailed away
riding an ocean of tears
my heart in dry dock





delicate petals
gently unfurl
a soul hidden




canvas of color
tulips and daffodils sing
the praises of Spring




freedom paints the skies
on wings of inspiration
a seagull in flight





mirrored reflection
engage your senses within
contemplative thoughts




fallen petals
paint the landscape
nature’s canvas




perchance love whispers
on the wind of Winter’s breath
melody at dawn





November breeze
a faint whisper
rustling leaves




night frolics
upon satin bed sheets
breakfast in bed




ageless diaries
unspoken words
the introvert speaks





Tainted Heart

fiery venom
pervades darkened arteries
love, a dying flame


Order the book here


http://joanneolivieri.weebly.com

White Roses by Blanca Alicia Garza

White Roses 

A white rose and
hear "I Love You"
from your lips 
was all I wanted 

The "I Love You"
got stuck in your pride

The White rose
waits in a notebook 
of unfinished poems 

A love left hidden 
in the shadows 

A love left to starve
to death 

Perhaps love has given me 
more thorns than roses;
but it was my choice to 
turn them into the most 
beautiful pristine bed
of white roses.

Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the Poetry Anthology, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", now available at Amazon.com. Blanca's published work can be viewed at The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.

Stone Cold Kiss by Melissa R. Mendelson


Once upon a time, there was this little girl, who lived in the woods. She was raised only by her grandmother. Her parents, she never knew. Her grandmother once sadly slipped and said that her mother was the most precious fairy of them all, but alas, she died in childbirth. The father had no mention, and it was only after her grandmother’s passing did this little girl realize that her grandmother had been hiding her from the world, a world that she was now lost in, a world that never knew her name.
Alone, she wandered, living off scraps and on the kindness of strangers. Nobody really talked to her. Nobody asked her about her name. They took care of her for one night and then demanded for her to be gone the very next day. At first, she was okay with this arrangement, traveling to strange lands and enjoying breathtaking sights, but one day when crossing the river, she spied a young man in a boat nearby, kissing a young girl. Why was he kissing her, the little girl asked, and the older man rowing the boat barked about something called, Love. What was Love, the little girl asked, never receiving an answer and then shortly afterward being left alone again.
It was cold tonight. Nobody was showing kindness, and her stomach was growling from hunger. The little girl hunched down against a cold brick building, wrapped her arms around her bare legs as her toes numbly picked at the ground beneath her. She was about to fall asleep when this warm light fell around her, and when she opened her eyes, this most beautiful woman stood before her. And she smiled a breathtaking smile, and she said that she knew who this little girl was. She even knew her mother, and because of that, she would grant the little girl one wish.
“I want to know Love, but all of Love. I want everyone to show me Love,” and the woman smiled.
“Just be careful of the glass bottles,” she said as her smile began to fade. “If you hit the bottom, it will break,” and then she was gone.
The little girl wanted to know what she meant, but she never got the chance to ask. And not even a second went by when this man hurried over to her, rescuing her from the cold. He showed her shelter, warmth, and for some time, he treated her like one of his daughters. And his daughters treated her like one of them, and the town grew fond of her. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to be with her, but nobody ever asked her her name, which she no longer cared about. It was just a name, and the little girl grew up.
Ten years later, she had traveled once more to another strange land, and a big party was thrown in her honor. She was like a celebrity, treated as if she were gold, but in all these years, she never felt Love. She just felt empty instead, and then at that party, there was this most amazing man. Maybe, he was a prince, and he looked at her, stealing her breath away. And they danced all night long. And then the night turned into morning, and maybe, she thought, maybe she had found Love. And he went to kiss her, and his kiss was as cold as stone. His eyes were empty, and his face twisted into a horrid look, a look that drove her far, far away into a dark, mysterious tavern, where she saw creatures similar to that one from years ago. And another fairy appeared.
“You look like you could use a drink,” she said.
“A drink,” the girl replied.
“Yes. Come. Over here,” and the fairy gently nudged her over to the bar. “Pick your poison,” and the girl looked over at the glass bottles. “Something wrong?”
“I… I can’t drink from them,” the girl said.
“And why is that?”
“Um… Something about something breaking.”
“Come on, girl. One drink. It won’t kill you, and besides, you might like it.” And as the fairy said this, the bartender picked up a glass bottle and poured the girl a drink. “How about one drink, and if you don’t like it, then you don’t have to have any more.”
“Okay,” the girl finally said and downed the drink. “Wow. That is good,” and she wiped her mouth with her hand.
“Another,” the fairy asked, and the girl nodded excitedly.
The morning peeled away into day, and day fell away to the darkest of night. The girl returned to where she was staying, only to be screamed at and chased away by an angry mob. Nobody wanted her around. Nobody wanted to look at her. Nobody wanted to love her. They all wanted her to go away.
“Why,” the girl cried to herself. “What did I do,” but nobody answered her. And for a long time, she wandered, being chased away by those that once showed her love. And strangely, after a period of time, she stumbled back across her old home. It was as if it waited for her, and when she entered, there was her grandmother standing by the fire. “But you’re dead,” the girl exclaimed. “You died!”
“I did and didn’t,” the old woman said. “I just needed for you to see.”
“See? See what? You left me all alone.”
“To quench your thirst for knowledge, for your dreams, to know what lies outside this home. You can’t make people love you, Medusa. They have to do it on their own.”
“But they think me a monster.”
“You are a monster.”
“But I didn’t ask to be born this way.”
“Nobody asks to be born this way.”
“So, nobody will love me,” and Medusa burst into tears.
“One day, a man will come and make you his wife. He is a god of all men, and he will see your real beauty. But you must be patient. This is my last gift to you,” and when Medusa looked again, her grandmother was gone.
A few years passed, and then knock came at the door. She barely moved from her chair, stoking the fire when he walked in. She had forgotten what her grandmother had said, and now she looked up at this strange man. And she fell madly in love with him, and before she could say or do anything, he embraced her in his mighty arms. And he whispered words into her ears that made her melt to her core, and he was not afraid. He said that he had dreamed about her, and after all these years, here he was, ready to take her home.
“And my snakes,” she asked.
“They are as beautiful as you,” and when he kissed her, it was the last thing that she would ever remember.



Monday, April 3, 2017

The Gang by John Grey

THE GANG                                                                 

smoking, rooftop sunning,
MTV at all hours, McDonalds,
Boston Baked Beans and Red Hots.
pilfered cigarettes,
beer thanks to a kid of 21 we knew -

fished, paddled,
tried to water ski,
stifled giggles at the shy parade
of a girlfriend's first bikini

played piggy-back in the water,
splash wars, near-drownings,
followed by bottle rockets
at twenty paces

gritted out teeth
at school's twelve year
lashing program -
hated teachers and cops -
fed our lockers
on whatever didn't embarrass us

in sleazy neighborhood
shop windows,
yearned for a piercing
and a dragon tattoo

ate footlongs, drank root-beer,
at home football, dodged questions like
"how come you're not out there on the field?"

competed in peeing contests, literally, peeing contests
nearest to the ceiling was king -
purred over an elder brother's first wheels

and carved -
wherever we could we carved -
trees, desks, light poles —
no presence went unrecorded

these days,
we meet and drink.
play poker and rap

this is some of the stuff we rap about -

did we really do that?
were we so stupid?

nobody can remember it happening to them
but they sure recall it happening to all of us


John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.  

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Confessions by Lynn Long


Confessions

The hand 

writes

what the

heart

desires

The mind

has no

control

Pen to paper

words are

written as

confession

I am told

Within 

ourselves

the truth

is hidden

Waiting 

to be

free

Desires

hopes

dreams

and 

wishes

calling 

out to

thee...

Lynn is an aspiring writer/novelist.
https://zolanymph1.blogspot.com

Illuminated Reflections by Blanca Alicia Garza

Illuminated Reflections 

Another day gone by 

The Moon rises

upon the velvet sky 

Thoughts of you come 

and go like waves 

Making storms rise 

beneath my skin 

My blood flows like lava 

through my veins 

My heart races, my nerves 

thrill to your touch 

The warm gentle breeze 

caressing my hair 

As I hear your name gently 

whispered upon the wind

I was trying to write you a poem 

but I thought I saw your face 

in my old tattered notebook 

But it is was only the illuminated 

reflection of the Full Moon. 

It's early morning now and I'm 

still awake desiring your presence 

as my lonely heart weeps in silence.

(Initially published on Indiana Voice Journal)

Bio: Blanca Alicia Garza is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Some of her poems are published in the Poetry Anthology, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", now available at Amazon.com. Blanca's published work can be viewed at The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1.



Weathering by Yuan Changming

Weathering  

 
In the climate of my heart

You will evaporate into the blue

If I am too hot; or become frozen

If too cold; but you will always

Remain clear, soft, pure, ready

To flow gracefully, as long

As the temperature is mild enough

 
poetrypacific.blogspot.ca
http://poetrypacificpress.blogspot.ca/

bio: Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart and one-time Best of Net nominee, published monographs on translation before moving out of China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Changming currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver; credits include Best Canadian PoetryBestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1279 others across 38 countries. 

Untitled by Rachel Tucker

I wandered aimlessly. I had no direction and wanted none. I was done. There was no fight left in me. I had taken her from doctor to doctor looking for a different diagnosis, a different prognosis, anything that would keep her alive. Nothing worked. No one could save her. I buried her yesterday. I have nothing more to live for. She was my everything. The sun to my moon, the yin to my yang. We were all that ever mattered in my life. Now there’s not even a child to remind me of her. We lost our only child years many ago in infancy. There isn’t even pain now. There’s just a dull ache where she used to fill me up. A vast emptiness that no one will ever be able to fill. Finally, weary to the bone and feeling totally used up I stopped walking. I hadn’t realized that I’d walked so far. The tree is stark but the sun shining through it speaks to me somehow. I don’t quite understand what’s happening but I feel…something. I continue to gaze up at the sun coming through the tree and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I can go on. Like the tree with it’s long, bare branches, I can stand alone and feel something different. Not the things I felt when she was alive, but still something. It really is stunning. The tree and the sun. I realize that I feel an affinity for this tree and that I actually see beauty where I never thought I’d see beauty again. I stood and watched until the sun was so low in the sky that I was afraid that I might get totally lost. With a final backward look, I thanked the setting sun and this beautiful stark tree for the reminder that maybe, just maybe, there was something left for me after all.

About Me:

I am a 57 year old, single woman who has enjoyed writing on and off for the better part of my life. I have been actively pursuing this hobby for the past year, and have written many short stories and essays both fiction and non-fiction. I especially enjoy writing fiction "chapter books" and have written several. I also enjoy reading, photography and spending my time walking in forested parks where much of my inspiration comes from.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Sometimes I Wish by Julie Petersen

Sometimes I Wish

Sometimes I wish I had no eyes
So they wouldn’t see you not seeing me
Sometimes I wish my heart couldn’t break
So there were no pieces to pick up again and again
Sometimes I wish I could forget you
Just to remember the calm before the storm
But then after all this wishing, I think of…
How my eyes will never see life the same again without you
How my heart never beat any stronger since I met you
And how everything has changed forever because of loving you

© Julie Petersen November 22, 2016


Bio
Julie Petersen is a poet and amateur photographer. Her work has been published in Tuck MagazineIndiana Voice Journal, the Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze anthology, which can be purchased on Amazon, and will soon be published in the Dandelion in a Vase of Roses anthology. Julie is planning to release her first chap book of poetry in the near future. Her writer page can be found on Facebook.