Stanzaic Stylings

Cleveland Haiku #458 View from the bridge--- movie theater's neon lights down in the valley Cleveland Haiku #461 A busy street--- a squirrel plays chicken, wins this time Cleveland Haiku #462 Wealthy suburb--- the park's path goes underneath the road Cleveland Haiku #467 Modern pastoral--- cattle unmoved by the highway noise Cleveland Haiku #468 Memorial Day--- the RV army on the move Bio:   "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a few chapbooks published (among the chapbooks is Cleveland Haiku, from Green Panda Press). He has a second full-length book, Euclid Creek Book Two, forthcoming from unbound content press, and is continually working on new and existing poetry projects."

Stirring Memories Drinking tears running  Down my cheeks  Drowning haunting thoughts  In my cup of coffee  Bittersweet memories  Going round and round  In my restless mind  Putting salt in My still open wounds Stirring your lies  Covered in sugar  Picking the crumbs of  Unrequited love. ( Initially published on The Poet Community ) Bio: 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.

Loneliness You leave or I It is all the same We are both alone Fighting loneliness To make it leave too Caressing it to make it bloom Into something that it is not Closing our eyes and dreaming That it has filled our voids with yellow wildflowers Wildflowers are never blue Any other colour is fine too Amidst the riot of colours Loneliness Walks the ramp Amidst fellow walkers It seems to be at ease Part of the troupe Swaying on the music Waving at the showstopper It halts in its track You and I  Have quite a task To find a new ramp And some other loneliness Dreaming wildflowers  Not blue Is a tough ask ©. Gauri Dixit BIO; A software professional from Pune (India), Gauri started writing poems couple of years ago. She writes in few Facebook poetry groups. Her poems have been featured in multiple Indian and international anthologies. She has also contributed to a number of e-zines including Learning ...

poetry & photo by Joanne Olivieri joanneolivieri.weebly.com Blackbird He teeters softly balancing unconscious upon fog dampened phone lines. Feathers his garment, he awakens to windswept mist and shattered street scenes below. Emerging from his protective quarters inside himself, he spreads his wings and surveys concrete organisms below his perch where the cumulus provide a warm, safe haven. He flutters haphazardly on broken streets surrounded by industrial obesity in search of discarded morsels to satisfy his hunger. Innocuous in his size he is not noticed and therefore not seen, though rises above it all naturally gifted with wings of freedom. Homeless His cries hidden sleeping consciously upon garbage strewn pavement. Newspapers his blanket, he awakens to deafening sirens and the morning rush hour. Emerging from the daily news and fetal position he sits watching oblivious passersby invade the unseen t...

The Owl And The Fly Sunshine glistens atop the trees and Wilbur’s barn. He stands quietly snoozing away the morning eyelids closed and feathers groomed. I come to visit as I always do soft whispers “good morning baby boy” and he opens his eyes and turns his head . I never mean to wake him as he sleeps yet he knows when I am there and greets me with his tender smile and heart shaped face. He is my pet, my spirit bird and my family who gives me such joy just by being the sweetest owl he can be. He lights up my days and brings me a sense of peace when I look into his eyes. This morning, he greets me at his barn door and I can feel his excitement for the beautiful day. It is quiet, the familiar bird calls hush a lullaby and Wilbur is joyously calm Then, from nowhere, an incessant buzzing grips the peaceful air around his barn and a fly appears in Wilbur’s sight. Wil...

Photo of  Tian  Tan Buddha  taken by Joanne Olivieri in  Hong  Kong 2008 The Buddha Speaks I am poor I have no place to weep my occupation s fixed fixedly I sit a thousand years come wearing the richest of smiles go subtly extending a hand as if having given something to humanity I don't know what I can give and don't hope to gain I just want to keep my tears keep them till my work is done deep green sandalwood turns to ash parched red stars are falling by  Gu   Cheng  (1956 - 1993) Gu Cheng  ( simplified Chinese :  顾城 ;  traditional Chinese :  顧城 ; September 24, 1956 – October 8, 1993) was a famous  Chinese  modern poet, essayist and novelist. He was a prominent member of the " Misty Poets ", a group of Chinese  modernist  poets.

Photo taken by Joanne Olivieri Victoria Harbour Hong Kong 2008 Sunset Over Victoria Harbor In Hong Kong And the sun retreats high aglow orange canvas where I’ve seen this same glow half a world away on a different horizon. And the daylight verbiage quelled by deafening quiet whispers secrets to passerby clouds never remembered. And the harbour bids “farewell Sun Goddess” drowning in darkness gently awaiting a symphony of lights. Until we meet again… BIO:  https://joanneolivieri.weebly.com/about.html

Free of the Shadows  Caress my skin with the softness of the feather of a Raven... make love to my inner  demons, let them know  you've come to stay, that you aren't afraid of the storm and darkness  inside my heart. Teach me to believe again  to give my heart without fear,  take my hand and set  me free of the shadows, stay here with me... always and forever. (Initially published on Indiana Voice Journal) Bio: 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.

Do You Know Me? A century later that question was the tagline for a credit-card company's commercial touting the advantages of their card to stamp one with the mark of distinction I did not have such a card, but I was the unanimous choice of the seventeen Union state governors to speak that day at Gettysburg  Newspaper coverage of the ceremony talked more of my speech than the other one I spoke for two hours, as was the custom for political oratory at the time Yet I did less in speaking for two hours that he did in speaking for two minutes, and demonstrated at least one instance where two hundred seventy-two is greater than thirteen thousand You can judge history's verdict for yourself: my speech is widely available online Do you know me? My name is Edward Everett Bio:   "Michael Ceraolo is a retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had one full-length book (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press) and a ...

In the Lily Pond In the lily pond A water nymph sings softly Nature hums along Lynn Long is an aspiring writer/novelist

Waiting For Her Shadows underneath his eyes Hours feeling like centuries Empty hearted, empty handed, With only false hope to hold onto Waiting for her He wants to right his wrongs Has nights full of tears and regrets He is the man who can’t be moved Forever sitting on that rough pavement Waiting for her He will pull through every storm Listening for the clicks of her little red rain boots Her hair tied up with a little red bow To tell her he was sorry For everything she had lost because of him Passerbyers, friends, family members They can’t mend his broken soul He only wants to breathe life again With you by his side You’re the only one who can make him feel whole again Save him, please save him He’ll make it up to you if you give him a chance He’s so sorry he had to leave you so young He’ll make it up to you, he’ll wait for you No matter how long it takes Bio:  My name is Angelica Grace Lee and I am a senior at Lowell Hi...

1875 Riding across the invisible line  That divided Alberta from Montana She sat high in the saddle  She looked out upon the spreading world in front of her The view was fine.  She knew the world could not remain the way it was.  High in the saddle she was changing the world.  Every other woman who had and  Were going to ride high in the saddle Or broke the earth with an oxen pulled plow  Would change the world.You  Fom the front jack of the collection of short stores The Naked City by Sterling Silliphant - where a crime of violence and an act of infinite tenderness can occur seconds apart . . . In many respects that is what I am attempting to do with my poems and stories. I am interested in our individual humanity in a harsh and sometimes comical environ. Bio: Grant Guy is a Winnipeg, Canada, poet, writer and playwright. He was the artistic director of Adhere + Deny for 16 years. His poems and w...

Symphony No. 1, The Transcendental  by Richard Pousette-Dart I mbalance of Time (after the painting by Richard Pousette-Dart) On the other side of what we know an hour is no more an hour than east is truly east or light the feel of snow. To travel from here to there is a matter of perspective, faith, not time, a journey imagined, neither short nor long, the contents of the sea in a measuring cup. The present feeds the past like a mothering lion feeds her young and the past is nothing more than the future in its mouth. There is neither proportion nor equivalence nor harmony when time, uncertain, out of balance is barely now. 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 t...

Sin Takes a Bow  Make Believe made up Sin, and Sin took it from there.  Entered our lives with a racket.  Created a racket, the life and death racket. Took our five senses for a ride.  Made yes and no common events.  Made loving you a shadow. Sin is at home in all of us, and Sin will take our breath away. Listen to Sin Takes a Bow by Paula Hackett on SoundCloud BIO: Paula Hackett's poetry is influenced by her life experiences growing up in Berkeley during the vibrant and explosive 60's. The daughter of novelist Paul Hackett, she studied under John Beecher, Angela Davis and Grover Sales. She has written lyrics in collaboration with her brother John Hackett, for many great jazz composers including Teddy Edwards, John Handy, Ivan Lins, Joe Sample, Eddie 'Cleanhead' Vinson, and Cedar Walton. Her life long love of jazz is reflected in her many poems about musicians and in her CDs with pianists Rudi Wongozi and Connie Crothers. Paula Hackett Website

Labor Day   Thoughts flick neurons and goldenrod colored mirages prance on shadows from windows. Time only floats, ascends up creaky stairs during this quiet morning taking up the air. Bio: Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has recently appeared on VerseWrights.com , at In Between Hangovers, Punch Drunk Press, and Carcinogenic Poetry. She has fifteen poems in an anthology entitled  Ambrosia,  a collaboration with eight other poets, soon to be released by OWS Ink, LLC. All proceeds from the anthology will be donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. More information can be seen here.  http://ourwriteside.com/ ambrosia-ows-ink-poetry- anthology/   She can be reached at facebook.com/ alyssalovestowrite .

Sunflowers In the head was born a garden, which still awaits for the smell. What a beautiful one, flowered in a harmony of colours. Behind the enchanted gate, open to sensation stand two drooping heads of ripe sunflowers. Bowing down likely to love drifting in the distance. The wind shut the enchanted gates, feeling insufficient. It knew that the garden can be made up, and love has to be felt. Słoneczniki W głowie urodził się ogr ó d, ale jeszcze czeka na zapach. Jakiż  on pi ękny, ukwiecony harmonią kolor ó w. Za zaczarowaną  furtk ą, otwartą na doznania stoją dwie chylące się głowy dojrzałych słonecznik ó w. Chyba już kłaniały się snującej z oddali miłości. Wiatr przymknął zaczarowane wrota, czuł niedosyt. Wiedział, że ogr ó d mo żna wymyślić, a miłość trzeba poczuć. Translated by Artur Komoter Eliza Segiet – Jagiellonian University graduate with a Master’s Degree in Philosophy. Completed p...