POEMBLOG.VOXPOETICA.COM

Falling Down the Well

Annmarie — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 04:29:16 GMT

Ricky Garni is a graphic designer. His latest short work publications can be found in Softblow, Poetry Quarterly,and Unfold. He is currently working on a 12-book collection called OK You Can Stop Now and a tiny book called Toothbrushes. Once a month he teaches poetry to seniors at Covenant Place in Carrboro NC.

Falling Down the Well

By Ricky Garni

singing a song
of secrets
you made up
on the way down

Interstellar Overdrive

Annmarie — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 04:24:34 GMT

Nicole Yurcaba's most recent poem to appear here was Fine Southern Farm Girls, published as part of Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags in December 2011.

Interstellar Overdrive

By Nicole Yurcaba

Stars can frighten ... you

--Pink Floyd

Eleven-past-eleven:

left hand guiding the steering wheel

right

hand shifting into fifth--;
you widely wound 'round
slithering switchbacks
slinging stinging gravel

as your shotgun rider caught

rushing nightwish wind in

her out-the-downed-

window spread fingers,
and hypnotically stared

through a truck's bug-

splattered windshield
burning an almost-midnight

summer sky's star-map

onto her
wondering mind's canvas
becoming a dying supernova

--light extinguished--heat extinguished--

yet too super hot
to remain wispy smoke,
smoldering ashes.

untitled

Annmarie — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 06:09:09 GMT

Mildred Speidel's most recent post to appear here was New Year Hopes (December 2011).

untitled

By Mildred Speidel

What is there left to say?
I am this bucket, holes
are in the bottom.

Some days I feel a bit
more refreshed. The
rains come, then just

as quickly, drop by drop
I am again empty. Waiting
for another touch, even if

it is the morning dew, it will
help take away the emptiness.
Now the time has come

My own tears fill the bucket
daily. They drip out and down
the side of the well. I must

find a way to fall into this endless
supply of refreshing. Push me,
push me hard, make me fall.

I would rather stay submerged
in the waters from the heavens
than drown in my own tears.

Ice Baby

Annmarie — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 06:53:37 GMT

Mariah Boone's most recent poem to appear here was Strange Grandmother (November 2011).

Ice Baby

By Mariah Boone

Walking across the H-E-B parking lot
Cradling a bag of ice across my abdomen
(to pour into the cooler in the trunk en route to the island)
I think maybe I will just take up raising ice-bag babies
They are such a comfort to you in June and July
And they melt quickly, becoming no trouble at all.

Catering

Annmarie — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 04:55:17 GMT

Anthony Ward has been writing in his spare time for a number of years. His work has been published in a number of literary magazines including South, Word Gumbo, Perspectives, Crack the Spine, Shadow Fiction, Message in a Bottle, Snakeskin, and Blinking Cursor, among others.

Catering

By Anthony Ward

I often over think things
Until they lose their original flavour
And become so unappealing
That I lose my appetite
Yet when I attempt to simmer them
I find them too raw
Ending up lodged in my throat-
Much too difficult to stomach.

Jersey Shore

Annmarie — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 04:40:20 GMT

HD Whatley's poem Nanjing Blues appeared here in April 2011. This poem will be familiar to anyone who's ever spent time at the Jersey Shore. Time is elastic there and this poem gives us a great sense for that.

Jersey Shore

By HD Whatley

We jumped into my friend's VW
And cruised on down to the Jersey shore.
It was brutally hot that August day
But man were there girls galore.

There was the redhead from Hoboken
And the blonde from Summit
But oh those Italian babes from Bergen County
And there was the smart girl from Princeton.

We drank cold ones all day long
And played kadima as the long arm of the sun
Punched me on the back of my neck and my ears
And, of course, I forgot to wear protection.

So after an hour of tossing the Frisbee
We went to a nearby bar to play some pool.
The sun went down and the band set up
And we partied all night like fools.

omaha upside down

Annmarie — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 04:27:39 GMT

A native of Germany and resident of Palmer AK, Ki Woyke has lived through enough subzero winters and rainy summers in Alaska to not call herself a complete cheechako (a newcomer to Alaska; old-timers may call themselves sourdoughs). She holds an MA in American and Commonwealth literature and Islam studies and she teaches German at the University of Alaska in Anchorage during the fall and spring. Nature photography and writing take up most of her free time. She is particularly fascinated by textures in Alaska's diverse landscape and ice formations. You can read Ki's poetry here and you can catch a glimpse of her photos here.

omaha upside down

By Ki Woyke

my child's father's wife

the one he married
after putting us on ice
said to me
"when love happens it happens"
and then proceeded to tell me that
in the event of a terrorist attack
omaha would flip
like a pancake
and everyone would be safe
and walking upside down
underground

my mind warped at the vision of upsidedownpeople in omaha
but it exhaled at the notion of inevitability
when it comes to love

as if love hits you like a cold virus
or a snow storm

is it really so?

decades later
my mind is still not sure whether
the lady in omaha had a point
for love does not happen to me
like bad weather
or bronchitis

what i do know, though
is that i wish i was in a place
where i could be certain
that
in the event of a terrorist attack
my town would flip
like a pancake
and we all would be safe
walking upside down
underground

Something Blue

Annmarie — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 05:43:31 GMT

Daniel Heffner attends the University of North Texas as an MA student in poetry. Of this poem he says, "[it] is the result of reading TS Eliot after breaking off an engagement." Goes to show you, inspiration can be had anywhere!

Something Blue

By Daniel Heffner

I walked around the restored chapel
and I looked at the floor plan
on the castle ruins brochure.

Sure enough, the supports
stood--stone pillars--
right where it said they would be:

four columns and the flying
buttresses in between.
The brochure told how the mason

who restored the castle
used fragments of the original
and searched for the same kind

of stone in a quarry fifty miles away.
I brushed my hand over the pillars,
felt the patchwork rock

held together by three iron rods
that ran from the foundation
to the roof, and I thought,

"I have shored up these fragments
against my ruins."
Some old, some new, and some borrowed,

clustered around a cord of three strands.
Breakfast, a kiss, your
black dress, that song we keep

hearing on the radio, the last cookie
that's always yours, the model boat
we found in the antique shop.

Gathering Trees

Annmarie — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 06:12:40 GMT

Bob Tomolillo began his career in 1970. He worked at Impressions Workshop in Boston and at The Printshop in Amsterdam. He holds a BFA from University of Massachusetts, Amherst, and an MFA from Syracuse University. He is a faculty member at the FAWC in Provincetown MA and a member of the Boston Printmakers since 1983. His lithographs have been included in collections domestically and overseas. In 2009 Bob was a co-winner of the Dayton Peace Museum's International Peace Prize. His writing has appeared in journals such as South Jersey Underground, Shine Journal, Cavalier Magazine, Icelandic Review, and Spilling Ink Anthology. Visit his website.

Gathering Trees

By Bob Tomolillo

The children collected
the Christmas trees
discarded after the week
of holiday passed
and the dry needles
collected on the floor
and the scent of pine
diminished.

Cast out on the street
they lined the block.
So we gathered them
to honor them one
final time.
We stacked,
interlocked,
built an enclosure,
protected from the cold,
and as we huddled together
the sweet smell returned,
the pine tar crusted
and clung to our clothes.

Athens: Dazzle me

Annmarie — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:59:57 GMT

Murray Dunlap's most recent poem to appear here was Dress Well, published as part of Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags in December 2011.

Athens: Dazzle me

By Murray Dunlap

Dazzle me, I say
For once, I hope to be happy
I stand at last, no longer
In my wheelchair
And for that, I am happy
Yet I want more
And more
And feel betrayed by a car wreck
Dazzle me, I say
For once, I hope to be happy
I drive again
I have moved myself to a new city
Athens is the name of a first city
And fits my need
To be dazzled
Athens wil prove to dazzle
And make me happy
A new start
A new city
Dazzle me, I say
Walking, driving, moving,
Living among trees and smiles
I am dazzled.

New and Improved

Annmarie — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:47:41 GMT

Nate Spears' most recent poem to appear here was In Pleasure, published as part of Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags in December 2011. His first full-length poetry collection, Inspiration 2 Smile, is available at unbound CONTENT, and stay tuned for information on his second full-length poetry collection forthcoming from unbound CONTENT!

New and Improved

By Nate Spears

Legend in my own time
Owner of my own mind
Own my own grind
No error equals no terror
Then I become the knight of darkness

Better prompt than sharp, than never

The less has passed bringing me more
And more
And more

Faith fills this place
Confidence takes over the waste
Overpowered by the will to succeed

Placed in an basket covered with a blanket of nonexistent opportunity
No guidance
No knowledge
Few ways to obtain anything of worth

Then came the worldwide web
Caught in its creation
Bitten by a spider, breathing,
Injected with air
Draining me of all my old ways of thinking

Life less of useless
The boss of my own boss

I introduce you to me

A New
An Improved
The Best

Through finding me again
I'll never get lost
At best.

Stop-Watch

Annmarie — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 07:15:04 GMT

Hugh Giblin has had a couple of poems published in a local literary journal, a one-act play produced, and a feature article published in a national magazine. Hugh says he is now focusing on poetry since "I love it best."

Stop-Watch

By Hugh Giblin

It all seemed to happen so suddenly
like an old movie run in fast forward.
Wonder where the days and nights went,
what all the thoughts and deeds amounted to,
just what was this damn plot about after all?

These times I always seem to be late,
I forget to tear off days from the calendar,
as if somehow, some way I can hold back
or cheat inevitable entropy of its deadly due.
I don't look in the mirror much anymore.

I know what is at the end of this road
and I try to get off at different ramps
so I can take a more circuitous route,
maybe somehow find a way to go back,
but all roads lead in the same direction.

Nothing to do now but just listen
as the indifferent clock ticks away
and watch the relentless hands,
which someday will stop for me
and will forever make me timeless.

Today's Tune

Annmarie — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 05:33:04 GMT

Jane Audrey's most recent poem to appear here was Broken (October 2011).

Today's Tune

By Jane Audrey

Marked step by marked step;
days defined by functional practicality
Cloaked in contentment
Neither resentment nor elation participate

In a breath, glimpses of passions past
fog the mind's eye
Peace and pleasure share a dance
until truthful reality hums the day's tune

Annmarie Lockhart to present at HRW Conference 2012

Annmarie — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 07:28:50 GMT

For those of you in Virginia (there are so many of you!) and those of you looking for a getaway, Hampton Roads Writers Conference 2012 is scheduled to take place September 20-22 in Virginia Beach. As if there aren't enough reasons for you to go to this amazing event, here's one more to add to the list: I will be a presenting 3 workshops at the conference this year! And I would love nothing more than to spend some creative time with you there. For more information, visit the Hampton Roads Writers web site. See you in September!

--Annmarie Lockhart

The Ice Decides

Annmarie — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 07:13:14 GMT

A recent Best of the Net nominee, 7-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and National Park Artist-in-Residence, Karla Linn Merrifield has had poetry appear in dozens of publications and anthologies. She has 6 books to her credit, including her new chapbook,The Urn, from Finishing Line Press. She has 2 forthcoming titles: The Ice Decides: Poems of Antarctica(Finishing Line Press) and Athabaskan Fractal and Other Poems of the Far North (Salmon Press). Karla co-edited Liberty's Vigil, The Occupy Anthology: 99 Poets among the 99%, released from FootHills Press in January 2012. She was founding poetry editor of Sea Stories and now reviews books for The Centrifugal Eye and teaches at Writers & Books, Rochester NY. Visit her blog.

The Ice Decides

By Karla Linn Merrifield

The ice decides
where I can go.
The ice divides
life from death,
safe passage from abyss.
But it is the light
on the ice that defines
beauty, terror, silence,
the blue awe of Antarctica.

An Addict's Poem

Annmarie — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 05:00:27 GMT

Grace Ames is a freelance writer and poet from Charleston SC. She is currently writing her first novel.

An Addict's Poem

By Grace Ames

I have never been punished with an addiction
until I found that one thing
I couldn't let go of ...

I would think about
dream about
pray for

Feel it in my hands
against my skin
my heart would beat for it every day.

Pain was so great
I promised myself
I would never go back.

The sting of walking away,
knowing I would never feel that completeness again,
killed me.

I couldn't focus
could feel my heart breaking
begging me for our obsession.

I tried to live a normal life
hiding my feelings
my pain, my suffering.

No one would understand this obsession.

When I could stay away
the side effects would slow and start to disappear.

I gained back my courage
my self love to feel I was
better than any addiction.

I convinced myself I could go back
the vicious cycle wouldn't start again.
But it always did.

Avoid the dealer
at any cost.

Staying away is the only answer.
My heart, mind, body can't take the
consequences much more.

Each time it breaks me down a little more ...
soon I may never find the strength to fight it.

I must avoid that one thing that breaks me
I must avoid my one addiction

I must avoid you.

Identity Crisis

Annmarie — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 05:00:27 GMT

Debbie Feller is a former mail lady turned full-time caregiver who blogs daily and has poetry published at Referential Magazine and Unfold.

Identity Crisis

By Debbie Feller

Cut with a child's purple scissors
in an attempt to keep
our identities safe

a hundred tiny squares of paper
blow across the lawns
dropped, spilled, torn

as messy as real life
picked up carefully
with hands, rake and broom

plunged deeper down
into hiding this time
the can lidded tight.

Winter

Annmarie — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 04:12:51 GMT

Bette Hileman's most recent poem to appear here was Peaceable Kingdom (November 2011).

Winter

By Bette Hileman

I know winter is coming
when the cat's long fur
feels warm underneath and cool on top.
I know winter is close
when my feet are cold.
I know winter is approaching
by ringing in my ears
that sounds like distant cicadas
though none are singing.
I know winter is near
when I take an afternoon nap
while the cat snuggles under my arm,
keeping me warm.
I think about getting up and putting on socks,
But fall asleep too fast.

Home is far away

Annmarie — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 05:45:21 GMT

Mirza Ahsanul Hossain lives and writes in Bangladesh.

Home is far away

By Mirza Ahsanul Hossain

I went home
But came back
Hoping
Biding time
Thinking you would
Let me in
But there was no answer
When I knocked
This is not what I wanted
I wanted You
Where were you?
Why didn't you answer?
Was it because
You knew it was me?

The Clouds

Annmarie — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:04:03 GMT

Danica Green lives in England. Cloud watching inspires all kinds of writing. Have you ever written a poem about something you saw in the clouds?

The Clouds

By Danica Green

The clouds peel away as I watch,
Layers that open to expose blue souls,
The large chasing the small and merging
Themselves as one.

A community that lives far above us.
White and grey and black, thin wisps
Like smoke, fat cotton bubbles that
Cloak the eastern sky.
Some bring the rains,
Or snow, trembling storms and
Electric crackles,
While many are content just to sit and be,
Filled up with fresh air and nothingness.

They revel in variety,
Lonely in their portion of the sky,
Dulcet companionship as
Their paths cross and their
Sapphire souls meet seamlessly
In the daylight.

I applaud them,
Send the thoughts of a peaceful mind
Up to dance among them,
Smile unfettered as they pass me by
And the sunlight reaches down
From the shining heart
That all the clouds share.