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Los Angeles And London

LA has the density
of London, and its sprawl
lacks truly the immensity
that makes detractors crawl.
Los Angeles has open spaces
more than London does;
while London has more royal faces,
LA has more buzz.
LA’s fault is San Andreas,
in London it’s the Pakis;
both say, “Illegal to kick ass,
except against Iraqis.”
They both are surely very great
but how long will this last?
Now enemies are at the gate-
for both the die is cast.

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Praise God on High

Praise God on High
He sits there and knows why
The reason for each housefly
From fungi to the pie
Even those far and nearby

Praise God on High
The Owner of the Sky
The sweetness of July
The secrets of my Sigh

He knows them all
He sees my fall
With love install
I hear no yawl.

He is what nature's sprawl
The snowfall, the menthol, the cat call.
My faults he does not recall
Everything in Him is so beautiful.

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Face

There is a face I know too well,
A face I dread to see,
So vain it is, so eloquent
Of all futility.

It is a human face that hides
A monkey soul within,
That bangs about, that beats a gong,
That makes a horrid din.

Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
Athwart the human eyes,
And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
And utter social lies.

So wretched is this face, so vain,
So empty and forlorn,
You well may say that better far
This face had not been born.

poem by Stevie Smith
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Sacred Band I

A drizzle starts to fall
upon the lands you lay;
may your crosses stay,
white marble to sprawl;

The three hundred died,
Inscribed lines of red,
as dusk crowned bled,
Charons baleful stride.

Eternal blooms to care
adorn Aurora's daughter
at a macabre slaughter
to maids tearful stare.

Glory bestows Laurels,
gray sky hails forsooth,
Thyrse on soils blooth,
invoking Churches bells.

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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Starstruck

So awe inspiring, just magic,
Head up to those twinkling skies.
Yes a feeling, very cosmic.
Observing with'Starstruck' eyes.
I stood there just looking,
Words I search to find.
Then they came, so fitting,
Certain words come to mind,

'Pin-holes in the curtain of night',
That line from the film, 'Highlander'.
A beautifully fantastic sight,
A sight of absolute wonder.

Twenty plus years, for that night,
Countryside skies so clear.
Because of pollution blight,
Urban sprawl, couldn't get near.

Glorious yet sad,

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poem by Guy Lipmore
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Good Friday

In the middle of nowhere—in Missouri—
Alongside a manure-smelling highway,
Farmlands sprawl across the open country,
And I watch the sun dissolving away.
The red sky blotches in bruised indigo.
The daylight bleeds out, exhausting its glare.
An ocherous harvest moon lies below
Sparse, cinereal clouds that crosshatch the air.
A Pentecostal billboard passes by,
Diverting my senses and attention.
A secluded, road-side church is nearby,
Brimming with advertised condescension.
Today, I'm told of my spiritual loss.
It's Good Friday. I see the neon cross.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Surrounded

One foggy day, one foggy night,
no sun, nor moon to give us light.
An opaque mist steals over all,
not see-through, just an eerie sprawl
of candy floss. Such tones of white,
lingering like a odious blight.

One foggy dawn, one foggy chill,
there is no warmth, temperature nil.
It’s closing in, and firmly wrapped,
no sign of lift, one’s feeling trapped
here in our world. Sits, silent, still,
trespassing of its own free will.

One foggy land, one foggy scene,
no view to see where one has been.
Nothing in front, nothing behind,
just a place where one is confined,
surrounded by one vast smokescreen,
clear small oasis in between.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Hide and seek

Out of reach stays the moon.
Is it why it is ever a beauty?
If so, you too, staying
beyond my reach.

Hard to span, sprawl out hills.
Is it why they enthrall?
If so, you too, being obscure
For me to span.

Within the nest lives the bird.
Is it why it is enchanting?
If so, you too, well guarded
For me to gain access..

Away flowers the Jasmine.
Is it why it is scenting?
If so, you too, blooming
Away from my yard.

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poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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No Whisper, No Sound.

Look at all the cracks in this wall.
If things don't change, they will sprawl.
You've been given a warning, a simple call.
One more month to watch it fall.

Rotten apples have been landing below.
Not even worthy of picking up to throw.
Disease is evident as this tree grows.
No green grass on the other side to mow.

Rancid days and hours are spent.
Like worthless dollars on houses for rent.
Soon to wonder where the good worker went.
You've been given a warning, a simple hint.

This dear boy hasn't time to hang around.
This tree is worthless and sagging the ground.
A little nourishment and hope can be found.
I will leave in silence, no whisper, no sound.

poem by Gulliver Gimble
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Night of Ethereal

Night of Ethereal
By: Adam M. Snow

I heard a gentle tapping upon the night,
Stirred up with a humble fright,
As Darkness fallen upon my sight.
This kindled lamp is my only light,
Which flickers out till all is dark,
Which left upon me a kindled mark,
Which left me alone in a chamber murk,
Alone in a chamber cirque.
Not a candlelight to guide me,
Not a light to see.
I try that I must, but I cannot flee.
I try that I must to break free.
Out of my mouth sprung a whimper,
A plead with a simper,
As dark becomes a blur.
Darkness as if it were,
Beseeched upon the nightfall.

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poem by Adam M. Snow
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