Sunday, January 25, 2015

Richard Schnap- A Poem


TRIBE

There are those in life
Who follow the rules
They are told to obey

To root for the home team
To read the best-sellers
To save for the future

And there are those in life
Who make up the rules
For millions to obey

To pay their taxes
To buy the right products
To learn to shoot

And there are those in life
Who do not follow rules
Who never obey

To be labeled mad
To have impossible dreams
To converse with God

Ayaz Daryl Nielsen- Three Poems



deeper than spring mud
my bull-shitter buddy
tells another one



empty homesteads              
dust
to dust



small-town politics                         
kicking court-house walls
not the mayor



ayaz daryl nielsen, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/125+ issues), homes for poems include Lilliput Review, SCIFAIKUEST, Shemom, Shamrock, Kind of a Hurricane, and!   online at  bear creek haiku  poetry, poems and info 

Nancy May- Three Poems



distant thunder
a bolt of lightning
drizzle of kisses


on a frozen pond
a shower of leaves
we part ways


feathers ruffle
snow fallen branches
silence between us


Nancy May has haiku published inThree Line Poetry, Poetry Quarterly, Inclement Poetry, Twisted Dreams Magazine, Vox Poetica, Eskimo Pie, Icebox, Dark Pens, Daily Love, Leaves of Ink, The Blue Hour Magazine, Kernels, Mused – The BellaOnline Literary Review, Dead Snakes, Danse Macabre – An online literary Magazine, High Coupe, A Handful of Stones, Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine, UFO Gigolo, 50 Haikus, The Germ, Boston Literary Review, Be happy Zone, Every Day Poets, Cattails, Ppigpenn, Creatrix Journal and M58.

She is a monthly contributor at The Camel Saloon and Poems and Poetry. She has reached The Heron’s Nest consideration stage twice and the Chrysanthemum consideration stage once. She is working on her first haiku collection.
 
 

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Denny E. Marshall- Art




                                                                   The Guitar


Ross Vassilev- A Poem


therefore ...

walking
down the street
with the sun
the wind
and the blue sky
God is waiting
for me to say
something
profound while
the white
butterflies dance
in my head
the cars speed by
and I remember
that day
in 2nd grade
when I got up
unzipped
and showed it
to the girl sitting
in front of me
I tell God
he doesn't exist
so I must be
talking to myself
therefore
I am God with
nothing but
these eyes in my
head staring at
my white hands—
I am alive.

Donal Mahoney- Three Poems


Charley on My Harley

The nightmare woke my father every night 
for years. He had no idea what it meant 
and so he wrote the story down and hoped 
some day he'd understand it.

He lost the note that night but 
found it decades later in a drawer 
next to the glass eye he popped out 
the stormy night that Mother left.

Mom came back to "make their marriage work"
after she'd been gone for 20 years
but Father told her they had been divorced 
for at least 10 years. Despite her tears,

Father told her, "Maude, after all this time,
let's agree that you were gone before you left 
so let me tell you all about the nightmare 
I've had every night since you rode off

with Charley on my Harley. I wrote the story down 
to tell the kids but they grew up and left 
before I had a chance to ask if they knew 
what the nightmare meant. 

Maybe you can help me understand it, Maude
The note says this: 'What purpose does a rabbit have 
other than as prey? What difference does 
a rainbow make in a rabbit’s day?'

Now you say you love me, Maude, 
but the kids are grown and gone 
so take my Harley and go find Charley.
It's time I put my eye back in."



A Walmart Way of Life

Opal the widow next door
shouts to Hilda over the fence
as they hang out their wash

on a sunny morning that
Walmart's having a big sale
on toilet paper and she's

stocked up now for the year
unless she gets diarrhea.
Then Hilda tells Opal she

would stock up on that too 
but her doctor has told her
she could live for many years

so she has to save in case 
she ever needs a cat scan
Opal says not to worry since

she will give Hilda the ad
the next time Walmart 
runs a sale on pet stuff.



A Matter of Business 

Every day at noon
when church bells peal
Rufus stops counting his money
gets up from his roll-top desk
lights a Cuban cigar
pours a glass of fine wine
and looks out his garret window

hoping to see Martha 
his neighbor dead in the snow
dropped by a heart attack 
or maybe black ice.
Either will do.
Too old to shovel the walk
she can’t afford to have it done.

Rufus never thought Martha
would live this long.
When she finally dies 
the property reverts to him
the result of a deal he cut
with her dead husband Mort
years ago when the couple 

needed his money and Rufus
figured they’d die in no time.
Mort was quick to cooperate
but Martha has been a turtle.
Twice now Rufus has lost
good buyers for the place 
rehabbers think is worth fixing.

Rufus doesn’t agree 
but he’ll sell the place in seconds
to anyone who offers the money.
For now, when church bells peal
Rufus lights a cigar, drinks wine,
looks out the window and thinks,
Hurry up Martha and die.


Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
 
 

Douglas Polk- Three Poems

A Question

life and I,
hitchhiking in this body,
through space and time,
life has said,
with this body's last breath,
it plans to leave,
but I wonder,
will it offer to take me along,
or must I remain,
and stay behind,
the question troubling,
the answer unknown,
uneasy traveling companions,
life and I.
 
 
 
Swag

truth,
a child swaddled,
warm and secure,
protected from the elements,
hopefully to grow strong,
and powerful,
but becomes malformed if the blankets not undone,
unhealthy,
no longer true,
only a manipulation,
truth,
property of the protectors,
shaped and misused,
for their own use,
grotesque now,
the baby once beautiful,
swaddled in blankets,
warm and secure.
 
 
 
Politics 2015

no rules today,
you can lie,
you can cheat,
precedents no longer exist,
constitutional relationships,
ignored and abused,
the executive and legislative branches go their own ways,
justice only a tool,
they can twist or shape,
data and numbers,
created by every side,
stories told to hide the lies,
politics a cesspool of human waste,
galloping to the brim of extinction,
the human race,
power held by the greedy,
corrupt and vain,
no rules today,
enjoy the pain.
 
 

Janne Karlsson- Cartoon




                                                                  "Some Say"

 Bio:

"Janne Karlsson is not only a prolific he-man artist from Sweden. He´s an asshole too. And assholes need other asshole´s money. Now buy his motherfookin´books and chaps through www.svenskapache.se or www.epicrites.org, or throw him an email at svenskapache@gmail.com

Richard Schnap- A Poem


HUMAN CONDITION

I have known men
Blessed with unique genius
That ended up driving a cab

And I have known men
Born to be great virtuosos
Begging passersby for change

And I have known men
With talent to rival the masters
Posting signs to sell their belongings

And I have known men
With minds possessing great wisdom
That wound up talking to the wind

And I have known men
That set out to save the world
But could not save their own souls

And I have known men
That buried their faces in shadows
To try to hide from themselves

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems


dreaming of better tomorrows 
 
i'm a girl of many endings
don't know which
one is meant for me,
and i wish i could find this 
prince 
who is supposed to help me but 
i only end up kissing frogs;
surely there is someone that understands
the madness of my soul,
and someone whose dreams i can
nuture and who will nuture
mine;
or is my heart too heavy to carry
for anyone
i've never seen the beauty of scars more than i
do now
because they show our failures in our journey
that could not kill us
emotionally or physically or spiritually
or all three combined—
someone save me from these seas of introspection
i am love sick,
and there are so many kissing couples
fondly dancing around me;
i am happy for them but there is a twinge of
jealousy that feeling of what about me?
as i sit here forgotten
dreaming of better tomorrows.



one day 
 
once you called me your
little lotus flower,
but i'm tired of kissing frogs;
i came close to 
kissing another one,
why would you make a mockery of
me?
don't you know there is power
to our words?
call me your lily of the valley
or your thorned rose,
but don't promise me a lifetime of
kissing frogs in ponds;
i want to meet my forever and i want
him to meet me,
and i don't think we're going to meet
in a pond and if we do i'll
eat these words;
but give me a crown of flowers
let me dance in the fields and meadows
with fae and faun
and explore the night with vampyre and werewolf
kiss the stars and the rivers and the trees
with nymphs and satyrs—
one day on one of my adventures of wildness and
whimsy there will be a man whose eyes won't
let me escape no matter how hard i run,
and he'll only have to call my 
name and i'll be his;
and together we will be one achieving our dreams
together and apart.



give me a lover
 
with long hair that loves to dance and who
kisses danger with a welcome smile
whose eyes will burn me
so i must rise from my ashes again,
and let him be the one
that saves me
from my own self-destruction;
the only one that can make me snap out of
whimsy and wilderness should there
be occasion that i should—
give me a lover
who understands my soul and whose soul
i can commune with openly
even if words are never shed because sometimes
silences are the deepest words of all,
and let him love me for him and i for him
let no ocean part us—
give me a lover that is handsome not only in looks
but in his soul
who can tell me when i'm wrong without
offending me,
and who i can respond to in the same manner;
give me a lover that loves to sing
whose songs will awaken in me dreams long forgotten
so i can remember who i'm supposed to be
and who recalls me even when i can't remember
myself so that i'm never left alone—
give me a lover with a sense of humor so i can always
laugh even when darkness dances in like a cloud,
whose strong shoulders who can hold 
me when the tears fall
and whose weakness can allow me the strength
to love him all the more;
let us love as no one has ever loved and no one
will ever love again
my heart is a passionate thing that scares the hell out of me
let him be just as passionate about things that matter
and let him tame the insanity of this tempest
inside i cannot stop,
and give me a lover who i can love
so we can save one another
when the world around us crashes and burns whose bones
are strong enough to house my dreams and mine his,
and let this lover be the last one; the one to claim me forever as
his own.