Tag: poetry

Poetry

Three Birthdays in a Row by Susie Gharib

Three birthdays in a row:a president’s, whose luminous picture had shielded my war-ridden childhood,a diva’s,who once celebrated the birthday of the presidentwith a song that enthralled,and mine, that every year passes without a single hello.Long dead are JFK and Marilyn Monroe, but their birthdays are celebrated anew, and though I am still alive,mine passes without a single candle,a word, or a symbolic cadeau. Continue reading Three Birthdays in a Row by Susie Gharib

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Poetry

Everything’s Tickity-Boo by Dale Champlin

When my heart beats too fast      it sets off an alarm. My watch keeps count to the tick, tick, talk of my grandmother clock.      Imagine a woodpecker beating a ratta-tat-tat into the bark of a tree to harvest a grub.      Maybe this is too graphic—let me say—it’s as if I’m up to the yin-yang in sugar-laced marzipan.     When I write, each tick of my pen records a tock of … Continue reading Everything’s Tickity-Boo by Dale Champlin

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Poetry

Flags by Frankie Laufer

My love affair with Old Glory started in sixth grade as a school crossing patrol boy.Leading first and second graders down the street single file.  They have their marching orders.My flag and red helmet were as close as it gets to the front lines.Nothing could disturb this rush of control—except maybe a junior high miscreant looking for trouble.The perks were good. Getting out of class fifteen minutes early … Continue reading Flags by Frankie Laufer

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Poetry

The Collar by Frank Freeman

in despair—about my writing—why couldn’t I ever get a lucky break?—like when Sherwood Anderson toldHemingway—to go to Paris—and wrotea letter for him to Gertrude Stein—orwhen Jim Harrison met Denise Levertovat a party—and she said—send me some of your poetry—voilà his firstpublished book—believe me—Icould go on—and on—I’ve readall the biographies of famous writers—each had a lucky break—or two—or more—but me?—what aboutme, goddammit!—then I looked atthe calendar—above my … Continue reading The Collar by Frank Freeman

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Poetry

Uncomfortable Listening by Malik Crumpler

Heckler: You hear this cat, man? Muhfugga sound like his fingers are broken… Or he’s experiencing a spasm in his hands—worst pianist eye ever heard—not even a pianist! He’s not a pianist, man. This muhfugga just takin’ out his emotions on— Another Heckler:Don’t sound like a pianist to meOr maybe it’s just not a piano, eye meanDig the incredibly ordinary contradictionsOut just to be OutNot cuz … Continue reading Uncomfortable Listening by Malik Crumpler

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Poetry

The Last Time I Saw You by Charlie Robert

The Letter.Just When You ThoughtIt’sGettingBetter.All He’llMiss IsHow YouFilled OutYour Sweater.Sacred PlacesSad And DryThat He’dMade Wetter.The Letter.The Letter.Clutched In Fist.CuttingSkin.You WereAlmostNext Of Kin.You WereAlmostSafe At Last.Upper Crust.Lower Caste.Made The Scene.Now That’s Gone.Once A Queen.Now A Pawn. Darkness At Dawn.The Last TimeI Saw You.The Light From The KitchenAnd How You Stood.Your CarefullyChosen WordsBruising The Silence. Continue reading The Last Time I Saw You by Charlie Robert

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Poetry

Ophelia’s Ventriloquy by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper

What had she wanted, unknowable—within those lips, be heard, could have occurredshe did even know? Such power, possessed,dispossesses had she wit, the words, words, words,pure spontaneity of ignorancespoken at last out loud, to say if not whothen that vitality unspecified,entire life pursued, continually deceived,egregiously misled, disappointed—although promised, never on Earth fulfilled. This agony curtailed, herself set freefrom assumption, false alternative buried:like Ophelia, submerged beneath the … Continue reading Ophelia’s Ventriloquy by John Jack Jackie (Edward) Cooper

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Poetry

Blue by Mark Katrinak

Blue moods unparalleled by weather, moodswings seem suspended by clandestine chains.Blue minds imagine playgrounds at the endof June in silver light filtering through the trees,when light of day is emptied like a theaterafter the show, the darkness waiting silently. The vessels of our blood appearing blue,cool wavelengths penetrating skin with bluedeception. Cloudless skies in afternoonare entertaining kites and contrails, smokeand helium balloons, migrating birds—below, the … Continue reading Blue by Mark Katrinak

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Poetry

Blanket Hill by Mark Katrinak

Kent State shootings, May 4, 1970 May magnifies magnolias and memories,  red ones as bright as drops of chosen blood. Holocaustic flashes return to springtime air;tortured souls can’t cross over to the dead. Protests inflame the presidential lung.Under white cotton sheets trigger men lie.Student, beware the angles of geometry. “The shortest distance between two points is over four corpses.”  Thirteen seconds in Kent elicits screams.The demonstrations die … Continue reading Blanket Hill by Mark Katrinak

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