Stanzaic Stylings

A river at heart Everchanging, yet the same Flowing to the sea Morning thunder sounds Awakening the still dawn From a silent night Illuminating  Above the ebony sea White diamonds glisten

Free Speech Canto LIII She was born Charlotte Anita Whitney (she was always called by her middle name) in Oakland, California in 1867,                                              and she could be used as a textbook example of what was called privilege even then: several ancestors came on the Mayflower; others came only a few years later,                                                     including one who was among the founders of Harvard There were Revolutionary War officers,                                              inventors,                                              public officials (including by marriage a Supreme Court justice) on both sides of the family during the ensuing two-hundred-plus years She graduated not only from high school but also from college (Wellesley),                                                  placing her among the small fraction of Americans who did so And after college she continued the traditions of charitable and public-service work          

Little Blue Devil   (after the painting by Paul Klee)     Born a devil to confound the world with irony turn sins to virtues and innocence to crimes none can dissemble  my methods or my words.   I could lie as well as a flame deceives a moth play my hand without a tell      and like a mimic octopus change colors in a shake I came as the Messiah but stayed the Antichrist.   If you wish to know me or my name and recognize my face      among the milling crowd never look me in the eye. 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.

Free Speech Canto LII The people of the Book (no, not THAT Book,                                 the Book that is the McDonald's of media in the early twenty-first century; Billions Served)                          claim to "Empower you to express yourself" and also claim to "err on the side of allowing content"                                                       yet only a couple paragraphs later they state "We make it easy for people to report potentially violating content" And so a poet (here identified only as J) who had posted a poem on her page that was erotic though not remotely explicit had her account temporarily suspended because some of the professionally offended (alleged friends no less) complained the poem violated the Book's Community Standards She was found guilty and put in the Book's jail until she removed the poem (definition of Community Standards - Censorship,                     though it doesn't call itself that, pr

  Poetry Upon a pedestal  I placed your love Higher than the  moon above Believing the light that shone within Ever bright, could  never dim Basking in its shimmering glow I gave you my heart, you took  my soul For, alas, I see,  as the light  slowly fades You now look down  Onto the love  I gave Upon a pedestal I placed your love Forgetting my own whilst looking above

In Harmony poem by Joanne Olivieri artwork by my friend K.C.Chow at the Hong Kong Arts Center, Hong Kong. Our bodies are fined tuned instruments pulsating in rhythmic accord to a beat of frenzied fusion through erotic syncopation and instrumental friction our bodies harmonize.

NIghtscape   Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars.   Shadows brush across walls as trees trace their branches. Gathering and waving together then swaying apart.   While I sleep, stars glide through heaven making their appointed rounds in ancient sacred procession.   Dreams as smooth as rose petals spill into my mind growing wild patches in this dark garden of night.