Monday, August 17, 2015

A Poem by BZ Niditch


Taking My Chances

Motioning my last poem
from my first sight read
green eyes open notes
played all night
huddled now
by shadows of grackles
in front of my doorway
on a bicycle ride
over my exercises
predicates a new existence
as my alto sax
turn the page
by the summer boats
of last night's attention
in soliciting jazz
as the sea wind opens up
though a window's voice
as an early flotilla goes by
in the home harbor
searching for lobsters.




BZ Niditch is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher.  His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including:  Columbia:  A Magazine of Poetry and Art, The Literary Review, Denver Quarterly, Hawaii Review, Le Guepard (France), Kadmos (France), Prism International, Jejune (Czech Republic), Leopold Bloom (Budapest), Antioch Review, and Prairie Schooner, among others.  He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

A Poem by Michael Lee Johnson


Witches and Queen

I love the walk on the isle
into your brain cells.

I'm rolling heart ache
in a lover's night.

I stand on solid ground.
You preach to me,
I find you there:
you scream out.
"I'm witches and queen."




Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era:  now known as the Illinois poet, from Itasca, IL.  Today he is a poet, freelance writer, photographer who experiments with poetography (blending poetry with photography), and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois, who has been published in more than 750 small press magazines in 27 countries.  He edits 8 poetry sites.  Michael is the author of The Lost American:  From Exile to Freendom (136 page book), several chapbooks of poetry, including From Which Place the Morning Rises and Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems.  He also has over 70 poetry videos on YouTube.
Links:  http://poetryman.mysite.com/
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/promomanusa
https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos
http://bookstore.iuniverse.com/Products/SKU-000058168/The-Lost-American.aspx
http://www.amazon.com/The-Lost-American-Exile-Freedom/dp/0595460917

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Three Poems by April Salzano


Advice from a Stranger

Sizzle at the wedding,
she said.  It's sweet talk and flora,
like three Junes & a monk
in mountains, but separate.
We are demons in a survivor's club,
a long way from either
home or redemption.  Broken
language is our harbor,
losing is our storm.



Dead Last & Counting

We are determined, clever girls
in red houses, running damage
control.  We are going dark,
riding on nothing but night
roads.  We are windows of quiet,
keepers of truth.



Following the Dog Star

My sister the moon will be hard-
going like desire.
There is a code.  It takes
eleven days and sixty-one dares
to reach no man's land by midnight.
A secret waits at the front door
& ghosts are at work like fractures
we are dying to seal.
I will tell the bees I am a basket
case, skinny dip in a dune.
South of blood is beach, old
women in a knitting circle are darning time
like socks, wearing death like shoes.



April Salzano teaches college writing in Pennsylvania where she lives with her husband and two sons.  She is currently working on a memoir on raising a child with autism and several collections of poetry.  Her work has been twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in journals such as Convergence, Ascent Aspirations, The Camel Saloon, Centrifugal Eye, DeadSnakes, Visceral Uterus, Salome, Poetry Quarterly, Writing Tomorrow and Rattle.  Her first chapbook, The Girl of My Dreams, is forthcoming in spring, 2015 from Dancing Girl Press.  The author serves as co-editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press (www.kindofahurricanepress.com).




Friday, June 26, 2015

A Poem by Rony Nair


Conk

the moon looks like the eyes
turned,
against the grain.
a nomad passing the buck,
she calls time
on the game.

the loony bin upturned;
draws a final breath,
between the first fire and the next,
plastered across the training school;
and the next young thing.

Redemption is charity.
A game.

the moon looks like the eyes
tilted
at the rain.
of you brooding over
the steps.

we began the climb.

While you called time,
on the game.

the cretins lie in
refuse bins crated.
the alligator bags
and the brocades that pass
for fashion.
for sport.
There's the small alley way
and the next
big thing

the moon looks like
your eyes-no way around it

while you called time;
on the game.



Rony Nair slogs as an oil and gas Risk Management "expert/director/Vice President/consultant" up on the greasy pole!  He's been 20 years in the industry since starting off as an Industrial engineer a long time ago.  Extensively traveled.  Dangers fronted often.  But that's his day job.  The one that pays for bread and bills.



Wednesday, June 24, 2015

A Poem by Norman J. Olson


in the winter of oz there will be fewer flying monkeys

monkeys shake their fists
at
the movie screen
where 2014 is no longer playing.

yes there is a mystery here that
monkey brains cannot
comprehend
and

monkey greed will destroy
what monkey ingenuity built




Norman J. Olson is an internationally published poet and artist.



Thursday, May 28, 2015

A Poem by Ken L. Jones


Transitional

Once while swigging barefooted wine near an ancient cherry blossom temple
Where sea life played upon traditional instruments
Until in the tranquil gardens there I became a marathon of sensations
In its savory sauce where I've always returned for seconds
Whenever I can migrate away from my perch of electronic waste
To enjoy its harvest of liquid gold pelicans
Above the waterfront where I watched them soar
Through the palace of the trees as they carved out the history of over the hills
Then above dry lakes and salt marshes where they disappear
And then like the shepherds on a Bethlehem hillside
I sleep out in the open by the starlight of my TV screen dreaming of a lush birdsong garden
That spoils so quickly leaving behind only the aroma of ironwork courtyards
That gives me the redemption of being used by a higher authority
During my slices of sleeping alone on that beach of innumerable roses
That fell from the sky while sea nymphs drifted across the frame
Until I moved well beyond Betty or Veronica and became a Barry White ballad instead
That fractured into amber hues upon the surface of the moon



For the past thirty-five years Ken L. Jones has been a professionally published author who has done everything from writing Donald Duck Comic books to creating things for Freddy Krueger to say in some of his movies.  In the last six years he has concentrated on his lifelong ambition of becoming a published poet and he has published widely in all genres of that discipline in books, online, in chapbooks and in several solo collections of poetry.  

Monday, May 25, 2015

A Poem by John W. Sexton


Discontinued

squid gods
ink our dreams . . .
we wake thoughtless

          the nailing ships
          pierce the depths . . . holds full
          of mermeat

a nosebag of oats
his snuffled meal . . . the sky's beyond
clipped Pegasus

          the palimpsest house . . .
          our host swings a cat
          into many fornevers

telepath murderer . . .
who would
have thought it?

          the new range of
          omnivorous leather suites . . .
          discontinued



John W. Sexton lives in the Republic of Ireland and is the author of five poetry collections, the most recent being The Offspring of the Moon, (Salmon Poetry, 2013).  He also created and wrote The Ivory Tower for RTE radio, which ran to over one hundred half-hour episodes from 1999 to 2002.  Two novels based on the characters from this series have been published by the O'Brien Press:  The Johnny Coffin Diaries and Johnny Coffin School-Dazed, which have been translated into both Italian and Serbian.  He is a past nominee for The Hennessy Literary Award and his poem "The Green Owl" won the Listowel Poetry Prize in 2007.  Also in 2007, he was awarded a Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowship in Poetry.