Stanzaic Stylings

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  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...

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 Poetry ,  BestNewPoemsOnline , Threepenny Review  and 1279 others across 38 countries. 

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 ...

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 Magazine ,  Indiana 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.

Vapor Trail following the path of what has been left behind a brief memory splash or flock of memories there was a wooden ship, the biggest toy imaginable, so big it was not a toy, but it was treated like one the smell of smoke, a confluence of ash trays there was an old man like a father, but not a father, the memory of his death now lost, an old lady who might or might not have been sane there was rain, an uncomfortable time, digging a grave, feet splashing in mud that's where the vapor becomes wisp and disappears with nothing but a name barely used anymore. JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  He blogs at  jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com .

Two little blackbirds searching diligently for fallen twigs Determined to build a cozy home for their offspring Marvel, the tomcat, rolls on his back cherished by the mild April sun Mom and I are sitting on the terrace, drinking fresh made coffee I love the soothing fragrance of the lilacs and hyacinths A natural aromatherapy for the mood and nerves A while ago, our family was struck down when my mom was diagnosed with this horrible fatal disease The world looked harsh, the days painted in somber, dark gray Since that day, we decided every new day was a little present Mom and I are admiring the fresh green color of the young sprouts of the birch trees in our garden as the postman arrives and hands mom a letter 'Complete remission' Springtime, the season of reawakening and miracles

Amidst the Cherry Blossoms As the sun sits high on its throne pink rain falls in delicate petals cherry blossoms scatter the joy and the earth laughs in flowers. The cool breeze blows lightly     caressing our delicate white skin            eliciting goosebumps and shivers as we delight in the fruits of nature.  Walking with you in the golden sunshine                  hand in hand, hearts entwined     oblivious to discord, we trip on gnarled roots and down the rabbit hole we fall. As night descends with blackened fears         wrapping us with a cold shawl              we look upward, pondering the meaning of our existence. But the distant light glows in ...

           Love's Sweet Reverie You are a memory, lost within dream Awakening my soul before time seen Only in moonbeams I remember sweet The love we felt on a warm summer night The euphoria spent in Autumns light As our bodies entwined becoming one Igniting passion beneath celestial sun Destined to meet in blissful reverie Our souls sing in perfect harmony Alas, where we begin... we must also end For our love exists in dreams hidden So eternally within loves abyss I will meet you always to share a kiss Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist.

A Faint Trace of Light It wasn’t our first date. We actually had been dating for a few months now, but the dates were more of friendship than what he wanted. I knew that eventually his patience would run out, and tonight, it did. And his car ran out of gas, leaving us in a tight space, waiting on a tow truck, and it was here, where he made his move, not taking No for an answer. So, I left, now stranded in the cold woods that surrounded me. I could hear him yelling for me to get back into the car, but I ignored him. Maybe, if he wasn’t so rough, I would change my mind. Maybe, if he wasn’t pushing me into the backseat, I would say that I was wrong. I knew that eventually we would do it, but not in a car, not like this. This was all wrong, and suddenly, his car sprung to life. And he floored it down the road, disappearing from sight. I’m sure his car would die again, and I hoped that he too would be left stranded in the woods. But still, where did that leave me? It was gett...

Reflection of broken mind Why is it that they call it dark  These feelings that I feel? Don't they know I need to tell In order for my mind to heal? I do not think this pain should be  Thought as negative or wrong Some people keep it locked up inside  That doesn't mean that I am not as strong For many years I let my pain  Stay buried deep within But I began to feel like I would burst At the slightest prick of a pin So now I let it out  Wear my heart upon my sleeve Hoping my words help others Find strength and in themselves believe I do not have it all figured out Of that I must admit I am still working on it day by day Each one I get better if only just a bit ©2017 Desiree Cady 

 Neighbor At his funeral, we filled a whole pew. “The neighbors,” I heard someone say. Family and other friends made a modest crowd in a church that size at that hour, an hour just a few weeks ago he would have been out working on his lawn picking up this or that raking, sweeping, making  his yard, his world a bit better than he found it. We, neighbors knew him that way, a nod, a wave a joke about whatever he or we were doing sometimes a longer visit little more, in that way he was there making our neighborhood, his world better than  when he found it.

Satin Red and Strawberry Daiquiri  There is ink upon his skin.  A sweet poem wrapped  in flesh and bones.  Sin dressed in black,   lips of strawberry daiquiri. Sweet temptation that  I would love to read with my fingertips, between every line, between every word until the last chapter.  Learning the entire story  that hides there behind his beautiful  deep blue eyes.  To write the beginning  of a new story among satin red sheets. 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.

More Details and Ordering Instructions on Amazon This is the first time I have experienced cowboy  poetry. I have always loved western cinema and cowboy tales but have never read cowboy poetry until now. I have to say, after reading this book I am thoroughly enchanted by this genre. The poetry has an air of contemplation and brings forth the emotions of everyday life along the range. There are a couple of poems which stand out. One being A Cowboy's Heart which speaks to love and loss with an emphasis on healing. It is beautifully styled and explores the intricacies of the heart. Another is Dad's Ol' Boots which personally gripped at my heart, bringing back memories of my own father. This book is filled with life and love and told with a contemplative voice that sets the stage for a wonderful calm and introspective read. I highly recommend this book. Review by: Joanne Olivieri Editor Stanzaic Stylings

Antennas of Absence “The house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.” ― Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space I look at the mosaic of corroded bricks,   on the skin of an earthquake ridden house in my neighborhood. Almost a Pollock's  like painting of an overpowering absence. I can't unfeel it. What have you in your innermost depths? What is the grammar of your mute,  which speaks the language of a melting day? What is the color of infinity, trapped inside the cuboids of your incomplete death? Questions translate to answers in themselves,   and absence is not always a void. Right on its thin concrete slab, a bird sits and watches over an anxious city, sending radio-waves to satellites of unnamable aches.  Bio: Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer  from Kathmandu, Nepal.   His recent publications were with    Red Fez , Kyoto ...

Daddy's little girl He was filled with nervous energy As he took her hand in his Being in the church on this day Was an event he'd never miss  He took his place beside her As she wore that white dress His heart filled with pride There was something he needed to address He said, " You are the most beautiful girl That  I have ever known I enjoyed every moment with you  Watched you over the years as you've grown" "I am about to watch you leave me Take the next step in your life I am about to give you to this man You are about to be his wife" He turned to the groom With a protective gleam in his eye Said, "This is Daddy's little girl, Don't you ever make her cry" "Consider this a warning This girl is my everything If you ever cause her harm Hell on you I promise I will bring" "Treat her like a princess Love her like a queen Show her what the word love is S...

DEAREST DEBORAH    Sometimes behind a curtain, An antique closet with a hundred pieces of gold Or a young man carving Jatoba wood into frames Or monarch butterflies, milkweed, and healthy hair.    Behind the door, a simplicity of sound And in this room, the sweet sweat of huckleberry juice. I cannot choose enough of any of these. I can choose you, like a forest of rain.   Never is it enough to seek a clean place Freshly imprinted with the small of your foot, Decorated with the easy touch of your fingerprints, And all of the breath in my world Has this need to be knotted with All of the breath in yours.   Will crab grass grow stronger after the storm? This part is not in me. I can Build a porch, change a fitting, Lay out a pallet of down. This is in me. I can quilt a blanket, Tune the strings of my kora, Find a place to be with you forever And later, when you come upon me late, It will not matter wh...

Only   Across the clouds like razor blades, the thin path I planned to wander, expanded, and I moved into territories of self-loathing. I could not keep hold of the grail or of purity of thought and deed.   I can only remain with the ghost on my shoulder and the demon polluting my love. I can pace my inner room and never find a solution. I will always be chained to the soil, imagining the bright orb of heaven. BIO: Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three of her poems have been nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, and she has over 950 poems published in more than 400 international journals and anthologies.  Her book  Somewhere Falling  was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book, in Vancouver in 1995. Since then she has published twelve other books of poetry and seven collections with Edge Unlimited Publishing. Prior to the publication  of Somewhere ...

When By Desiree Cady I miss our love  When it was fresh and new When there was so much passion In everything that we'd do When each and every touch  Came as a pleasant surprise  When we would get lost in each other Completely mesmerized When there was not a single doubt That you liked what you saw When the desire in your eyes Showed a love that was raw When each and every day Wasn't more of the same When living this life Didn't seem so mundane When a single thought of you  Put a smile upon my face Before all of the magic Disappeared without a trace When I knew just what to do To get us back on track To rekindle the flame To get that fiery spark back When I didn't have to question If your love for me was true When I could see all your love  In everything that you'd do When I was sure of my place Inside of your heart When I knew where I fit in When I possessed every part When ...

My Voice  My world teeters  but I will not fall I'm standing here tall and proud  No matter what  life throws at me  I'm making my own path  with the stones  that I stumble on Will not follow the crowd  My dreams could be scattered by the wind  like pieces of a dandelion  But if I can touch a heart  with my words, if I can  make someone think  twice before they act, then my work wasn't in vain. Although I cannot see the rest of the way, I keep going, always forward, stepping strongly, raising dust. Leaving my mark along the path  Always with my head up never looking down  Getting up if I fall. Sowing kindness and love  for if someday I have  to take a step back I'll never give up  Holding my dream tight,  It won't matter if I  make my hands bleed My writing is my voice  and it will remain...

  A Good Day I can picture him there waiting in the wings ready, always ready to step center stage His grace and his wit worthy of attention worthy of applause and standing ovations two, three curtain calls reviewers hurrying off framing his performance comparing him well to even the best of them the smiling winners who got to say their say who got to sing their song I picture him there, quietly adjusting his appearance without a mirror, all he has  is his imagination and his ability to picture himself waiting in the wings imagining himself, ready to step center stage.

Fragments of Yesterdays Past  by  Melissa R Mendelson Information and Ordering:   Amazon Fragments of Yesterday’s Past by Melissa R. Mendelson is an introspective journey exploring memories from days past.  It speaks to fear, anxiety and the negativity our own thoughts can bring to our lives. Melissa is a poet at heart with a storytelling style that I have always enjoyed.  Her works speak the truth from the heart and soul.  This particular book will have you, as the reader delving into your own past and becoming aware of feelings you have never expressed.  It will have you at times shedding a tear and other times becoming inspired. The poem Myself is an introspective look into a life of wrong choices who as a shy girl just wanted to accomplish her dreams. The poem Ivory Petal with a line that stood out for me as no other throughout the entire book is “Love is the dead rose in a cloudy vase.”  That one line encapsulates in my...

The Cellaring: Poems from a Darkling Side of the Shadowed Mind   Paperback  by  Ken Allan Dronsfield Information and Ordering   Amazon The Cellaring by Ken Allan Dronsfield will keep you captivated by fear, excitement, gripping darkness and wit.  After each poem, I found myself saying WOW! Ken is the master of imagery.  He, Sylvia Plath and Edgar Allen Poe altogether would have had their own poetry empire.  What I enjoy most about his poetry is the way the endings will surprise you, entertain you and having you sit up and take notice. Ken also has a voice which allows for effortless ebb and flow with traditional style as in the poems Time Not Sleeping, Hounds Delight and many more.  It is rare to find a poet who can write this type of verse and make it work.  I truly enjoy this type of writing.  If you like Poe, you are going to love Time Not Sleeping. Pink Flower (A Requiem For Death) is a beautifully sculpted p...