Friday, October 31, 2014

All Hallows Night

by Lizette Woodworth Reese
from poets.org

Halloweenies by Charles Wysocki


Two things I did on Hallow's Night:
Made my house April-clear;
Left open wide my door
To the ghosts of the year.

Then one came in. Across the room
It stood up long and fair -
The ghost that was myself -
And gave me stare for stare.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Acid Rain

by Elliot

White electric knife splits the sky in two;
heaven's screams resound against earth's walls.
Her clouds explode, and the rain breaks through -
life-giving liquid, like clear blood, falls
upon her children's drought-parched lips. Craving
in self-blind voracity. Spitting back
filthy pollution in thanks for saving
the greenery they turned black.
Now listen to who's screaming in sick pain
while the sweet, life-giving water cascades
as putrid acidic death, tearing up organisms 
with its toxic blades.

Once more, our causes can't see their effects.
What, just what will we blindly undo next?

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Looking at Rousseau's Sleeping Gypsy

by Jonathan Aaron
From his collection entitled Journey to the Lost City

Henri Rousseau, "Sleeping Gypsy"

A gypsy girl decides to visit her grandmother
on the other side of the desert. Carrying a staff, 
a jar of water to quench her thirst, a lute for music
to keep her company, she travels all day.
It's getting dark when she arrives at an oasis.
After she eats a few dates and drinks some water,
she picks up her lute and sings herself a song.
Then she lies down and quickly falls asleep.
She doesn't see the moon rise, and the stars as well,
and the night turn into an approaching lion.
Lions eat anything from insects to antelopes to giraffes.
This one has to be at least ten feet long from the end of his tail
to the tip of his nose. I can't tell you what he's doing here.
I don't know why he's not back home in some African savannah.
He walks up to the sleeping girl. Maybe she's dreaming about
her grandmother, whom she counts on seeing tomorrow. Maybe not.
The desert is completely silent, except for a jackal barking
faintly and far off. The lion looks around with a shining eye,
and a breeze stirs his yellow mane as it would the curtain
across the window the girl sleeps next to in really hot weather.
No, I don't think the lion is going to eat her. Yes,
you could say she's wearing a brand new dress.


Sunday, October 12, 2014

The Cycle of Time

"The Cycle of Time" by Ashleigh Hartsock, 2014, acrylic on canvas

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Goddess

by Kat Comer

Oh Goddess
Where is the map that would lead me to you?
So often I lose my way, a child.
I grope blindly along a dark trail
through rocky terrain.
Covered in dust, I wander
a nomad on the edge of madness.
I slip and fall on razor sharp stones
that shred my feet
to a crude mosaic of skin and blood.
I am alone.
I am child, nomad. Unformed. Unfinished.
Finding you is not easy.
Even the moon's light is out.
So I stop, wait and listen.
Turn inward to my center
where the silence is thick and deep as night.
I turn black in the stillness, a black flame
ready to ignite.
Such is my power.
In the distance the howl of coyote
rises with the new moon.
I feel my own howl rise
splitting my night
into a constellation of stars.
I am formed. I create.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus

by William Carlos Williams
From his collection entitled Pictures from Brueghel

Pieter Brueghel, "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus" 

According to Brueghel
when Icarus fell
it was spring

a farmer was ploughing
his field
the whole pageantry

of the year was
awake tingling
near

the edge of the sea
concerned
with itself

sweating in the sun
that melted
the wings' wax

unsignificantly
off the coat
there was

a splash quite unnoticed
this was
Icarus drowning

Friday, October 3, 2014

Quantum Shadows

by Peter Mitchell
From fragments of a scroll from the future

quantum shadows
on refracted dreams
spinning into maya
Who can understand this?

transcending the dream
shadows fade away
into oneness of divine love
Joy explodes