Tuesday, December 26, 2017

Come sit with me by Lynn Long

Come sit with me beneath 

the sycamore tree

We'll share our stories

and whisper our dreams

You'll tell me yours

I'll tell you mine

And together, we'll

stay lost in time

My Beloved Poet by Blanca Alicia Garza

My Beloved Poet

I wasn't looking 

when I found you, 

I've been expecting 

your arrival forever. 

You've turned into 

everything I wished 

and wanted, always

bringing peace to my 

hurt and tormented soul. 

You turned my gray days 

into colorful rainbows, 

while each of your tender 

words were tattooed deep 

inside my impassioned heart. 

You've caressed me without 

touching me and your kisses

have returned my bright smile 

and restored my faith in love.

(Initially published on Whispers)

Blanca Alicia Garza is a Poet from Las Vegas, Nevada. She is a nature and animal lover, and enjoys spending time writing. Her poems are published in the Poetry Anthologies, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze", and "Dandelions in a Vase of Roses" now available at Amazon.com. Blanca's work can be found in The Poet Community, Whispers, The Winamop Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, Tuck Magazine, Raven's Cage Ezine, Scarlet Leaf Review as well as Birdsong Anthology 2016, Vol 1. Blanca was recently nominated for The Best of the Net 2017.

Saturday, December 23, 2017

Like a Mad Moment by Michael H. Brownstein

like a mad moment

like a stone spirit locked in a quartz crystal


Where is the god of the dead,

the wide mouthed turtle that shivers and stabs?


I lost a brother never birthed,

small as a piece of exploding balloon.


Nearby, a science class of liver eaters,

white water bouncing from rock to rock,


and I who resist sleep as I resist sex, never dream,

yet I am the one who discovered the Continent of Columbus,


the mad cities of Amerigo Vespucci,

the bone fragmented totems of Magellan,


but not the syphilis of Captain Cook and his tribe of salt eaters,

their great sails gods with wings.


The women of the island swan out to them laughing,

their lack of inhibition a perfume.


Nor did I discover the golden esophagus’s of the Conquistadors

so thirsty for gold, once when they were captured,


they were forced to drink it. Who among us

searches for the Monograph of Truth in the jungle,


in the night? Who among us knows the mad woman

torn apart by one she knew all her life?


I lost a sister five months before her birth date,

so tiny she was a new born possum,


large as the hand of an infant newly released.

That was the family I never knew.

Somewhere a great snapping turtle holds up the galaxy,

Somewhere another eats every tadpole in its home,


every frog, every mudpuppy, every bubble-eye celestial goldfish

until all that is left of the planet it lives on is to find another home.