Poetry
- Transition – Jim Smith
- For Jim – Hillary Kaye
- Guevara – Nadja Tesiich (translated from Serbian)
- Mitt: Don’t Run (With Scissors) – Hal Bogotch
- Stream of Consciousness – Heather Freed
- Oh Beautiful For Spacious Skies, From Sea to Shining Sea – Tina Catalina Corcoran
- What – Ronald McKinley
- Venice Desderada – Cameron Prior
- The Sound of Cabrillo – Paul Tank
- Memorial. The Decades Roll Away. I See You – Roger Houston
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Transition
By Jim Smith So now, the curtain falls on the bright sand beach and the wind rises to a fury Was it real was it real or just a dream in the mind of a sea gull flying toward the sun We rubbed skin on skin lips on lips as the waves caressed the earth We performed our dance of a billion years birth, love, death as galaxies collided Weep not my friends there are more like us waiting in the wings to sing their songs As we become the legends of this day, of this hour our stories have their glory in the living, not the telling
For Jim
Inside my head birds talked. Days carried on by themselves. Everyone I know eating bread crumbs. Spring died, right before my eyes. Nothing could be born here. Birds flew away, never saying good bye. Who could blame birds who didn’t have to talk. In the summer, hot like a fire, things melted away. Children turned into puddles, as their mothers swept them into buckets, and used them for pillows, against something they wouldn’t talk of. I walked off, went on dreaming to myself. No one was calling my name, except here and there to say that something had gone amiss. So I flew away myself. Charted a bird flight, right out of the big city. Kissed good bye no one anymore. What care I about coming or going? After traveling a while, I settled down with my soul. Kissing hope good bye I felt too good to care to hope. –Hillary Kaye
GUEVARA
(translated from Serbian)
Mitt: Don’t Run
(With Scissors)
Stream of consciousness
By Heather Freed
Red or blue
The consequence of sounds, meaningless verbs and nouns Words that crumble, lacking truthful grounds Like trying to walk without discs in your spine Like a blind-cripple stepping on to the tight-wire Like swimming to the surface for a breath of air But instead you inhale smoke, and lungs beyond repair And do I dare fleet across the seas Of relentless tar, the etymology Cruel intentions biting deep Even the pandemonium seeks company For what is a wolf without his pack? And so they flaunt you like a talisman You speak promises of stone with feet of clay Meaning shatters, just a needle in the hay Mend and mold words to suit your pursuit Give us Red or Blue to choose But it’s the same hue, the string from which you hang That allows you to advance across the board of their game Words of plastic, lifetimes to decompose Tell me what I want to hear but you won’t get my vote The consequence of sounds, meaningless verbs and nouns A nation that crumbles into cry of dissonant sounds
Oh Beautiful For Spacious Skies
From Sea… To Shining Sea!
By Tina Catalina Corcoran
Oh, There’s oil on the beaches, Kids are sleeping in the sand… We only know what they teach us, We don’t always understand Till there’s oil on the beaches And kids sleeping in the sand… Oh beautiful for spacious skies What happened to our land? Our Public Schools are FAILING, And, the kids don’t seem to know Why they’re ending up in jail, and No other place to go… For our Public Schools have FAILED To teach what they must know… Oh beautiful for spacious skies I used to love you so! Our Soldiers BLEED for FREEDOM! They BLEED for YOU and ME! We “ship em” where we “need em” Even when they DISAGREE! They BLEED and FIGHT and DIE for The RIGHTS of YOU and ME… Oh beautiful for spacious skies God shed his grace on thee… Oh beautiful for spacious skies Cries our for YOU and ME!
What
By Ronald K. Mc Kinley
What a bright gleaming thing is now What other purpose is, than to be Cast aside the material and thought. What cold thing can embrace you. What calculated mind set can lift you. Fly without flight close to mother earth. What reasoned risk can heat your soul. Lust lost to love. Hold the flavor in. Inhale life and spread it on your skin. Close your eyes and see what is. What was there all along, waiting for now, this point in space/time. What a song, a poem, a voice. Held together by billions of cells, encased in a soul. What a miracle you are.
Venice Desderada
For the drinking eyes
The Wise
The world of lies
Matching up to ventilate
The Fools
The world of hate
Somewhere else to console
Your fate
Regardless of the World
With your freak-flag unfurled
I pledge allegiance to Venice
Without being a public menace
What’s the meaning of life here
What I see, What I hear
Or the music in my head
The sunset skies are turning red
–Cameron Prior
the sound of cabrillo
I wanna put up bleachers
In our backyard
I wanna invite all our friends over
Locals only? Nah – let everyone come
They can all take a seat
Facing our setting sunset grandeur
Palm trees Eucalyptus virtual
Urban jungle
Prevalent architecture almost
Intrusive – intruding not quite, not loud
the sound of cabrillo
Get yer ice cream here!
Hot pop corn!
I’ll maybe have to charge admission
It’ll depend on how big the crowd is
Do you really wanna come over?
It’ll be a whole lotta fun
All our friends are already coming
Hope there’s room for everyone
the sound of cabrillo
I guess like Dylan’s Route 61 – out in the sun
Or those packed outside turn 3 at the 500
Bleachers crammed with cheering crowds
Rapturous, glorious, enchanted, loud
the sound of cabrillo
Then suddenly the multi-colored blur of 33 cars go roaring past
Each doing close to 200 mph – so says the commentator
Careening around the curve miraculously close to death
Without the aid
Of those old wooden banked turns
Like they used back in 1915 here
At the Grand Prix in Venice
the sound of cabrillo
Come sit when it’s finally quiet
And look at the sky with me
Come watch the sky fly by
I’ve got the tunes to entice
A background that grooves and moves with the atmosphere
–paul tanck
Memorial. The decades roll away. I see you with
08:13 Monday, May 28, 2012 ….. Memorial. The decades roll away. I see you with closed eyes, and if I may, You haven’t changed a bit. You’re still the same As when we were together. There’s a flame That never will go out. You seem to rise. You walk my troubled dreams. I have grown wise Since our paths had diverged. I hear your voice. Your words form an adagio. What price Am I prepared to forfeit? Realize The gift that you bestowed, and this implies That, etched upon the wall, I’ve found your name. You haven’t changed a bit. That’s why I claim This day for resting laurels, and I pray That your soul rests in peace on this, your day…..
Roger Houston
Categories: Poetry
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