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358

you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings

you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done

then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too

you want something
lighter like the feathers

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What You Are Saying

you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings

you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done

then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too

you want something
lighter like the feathers

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The ravens of Ecclesbourne

The dark shadow of a large corvus
A mere crow,
No'a bird far larger far more supreme,
The harbinger of doom so they say
As if cast from some dark dream.

The raven'
Mystical bird of days of yore,
Glides over me to find a resting place on the cliff
Just beyond the rugged shore.
The silence only broken by their occasional deep croak
A voice far deeper than of any crow that I have heard before.

Like some dark spirit
Free from the confines of the historical tower,
Their dark shadows only eclipsed
By the black clouds of a passing shower.

I stand and watch in fascination
Of their arial acrobatics high above,

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poem by Gordon Butchers
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Nick Fluge, Cliff-diving in Acapulco

Flies love, swan-like across the sky
From rocky edge- a moment’s try:
With four limbs raised above the head,
And torso seeming, almost dead!

Taut muscles hold the skeleton
As if it’s frozen on the run,
Twenty-five meters high up in
The air, in total perfection.

Breath held in inspiration full,
The cliff-diver now plunges down
In perfect stance, as head first strikes
The surface waters of the sea.

The golden sun-set forms a veil
Of light of varied hues and shapes;
The diver’s body looking dark,
And touching down in three seconds!

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poem by John Celes
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Dirty Language

Why, I do simply adore
delicious dirty language
delivered without dressing
coarse and unashamed

I adore elocution expert
riling 'sounding tone for timber
salivant 'lascivious for the falling
riling ravishing raconteur

Master Orator

Why, I like girls with glasses and garters
lingerie lending lascivious language
intentioning rendering luscious
lavender
livid lexiconjoury vivid

fine silk lacing for debasing
delicate dialectics directing me

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poem by Randy Resh
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A Day Untitled

The dew sparkled like a thousand jewels
as the rising sun bathed each blade of grass.
The promise of a summer day
as the morning began to pass.
Clouds of mottled grey
like warriors gathered on the horizon
blocking the sun and bringing a chill to the air.
The bright awakening of promise
is swallowed up by a dull sky,
yet no one took much notice
as the birds played in the air,
their arial acrobatics distracted
the foreboding dull sky.
As no rain threatened
to take a days pleasure away,
although it was cooler
the early sun still left warmth in the air
and life still went on gently
as we rested on our holiday
in a laid-back life

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poem by David Harris
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April Guest

Summer has arrived too early,
before I’ve even set the table.

It does not apologize. I offer it a drink,
a stack of magazines, but it’s in a
chatty mood, follows me to the kitchen

and warns about the perils of cutting
garlic and onions in full sunlight

tells me a joke about the slashed bagel
that rushed to the ER. I pretend
to laugh, suggest that summer

fold the napkins, count the spoons and forks
but it keeps talking, the noisiest time of the year

with all those raucous bar-be-cues and squealing kids,
acrobatics applauded by claps of thunder.
Perhaps another guest will ring the bell

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poem by Barbara F. Lefcowitz
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From A Spider...

Human, human, stood all alone, in the room,
Watch me, while around your walls, I zoom!
That you have spotted me, it is all too clear,
As I see your face, suddenly fill with fear.

I get bored of just standing here all static;
Watch, while I do some clever acrobatics!
See how I can hang from this here beam;
Oh no! I never meant to make you scream!

I see that you can only walk upon the floor;
Well, I can do walls, ceilings, and a lot more.
For a while, I was hanging over your head;
I hung from the ceiling, just above your bed.

Upon me, your eyes appear to be super-glued;
I detect that you are not in the best of moods.
You seem to want to keep me within your sight;
I'm tiny, compared to you; why take such fright?

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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At First There Was Only The Truth

at first there was only the truth
it was born
it did not know anything about lies
and being pure
and unrelated yet to anyone except to mother
the truth remains to be the truth
until many things happened
on its life,

father lies at him
at first he is confused
and brothers expect him to be this way and that way
like what his sisters is telling him
from time to time

truth wants to remain true
because there is joy to its nature
but nature too dislikes it
and then it inflicts pain
to it

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Proclamation Without Pretension

Art is going to sleep for a new world to be born
"ART"-parrot word-replaced by DADA,
PLESIOSAURUS, or handkerchief

The talent THAT CAN BE LEARNED makes the
poet a druggist TODAY the criticism
of balances no longer challenges with resemblances

Hypertrophic painters hyperaes-
theticized and hypnotized by the hyacinths
of the hypocritical-looking muezzins

CONSOLIDATE THE HARVEST OF EX-
ACT CALCULATIONS

Hypodrome of immortal guarantees: there is
no such thing as importance there is no transparence
or appearance

MUSICIANS SMASH YOUR INSTRUMENTS

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poem by Tristan Tzara
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