Saturday, June 28, 2014

A Poem by JD DeHart

the danger of elevating others,
the angel now painfully
visible and laden with error,
the high place creating only
the possibility of fall,
shatter, damage,
now a porcelain figure
lies on the floor, cracked
and suffering, and I am no doctor
nor priest, uncertain of what to do.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  His writing has appeared in Eye On Life Magazine and The Commonline Journal, among other publications.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Two Poems by Ken L. Jones

The Minotaur In The Dime Store

My thoughts they are a puppet show
Where sour apple paper dolls
Act out candlestick lit bedtime stories
As ashen as Emily Dickenson’s
Purple shadow songs
And in the sweet, sweet lilac
Of my afternoon nap
Where tumbleweeds like spinning wheels
Perform a rusted symphony
As I dream of the silver dust of your kiss
Now an apparition in the mist
A warm whisper of indigo
Because though we still live together
You left me long ago.

A Still Life

On this prize overcast almost raining morning in May
My papier-mâché heart breaks with sympathy
For the steam driven merry-go-round
Of our landscaped courtyard of nights and hours
Where in a vineyard that we planted long ago
But have lately let grow fallow
We bicker like beasts in a menagerie
About topics whose dim corridors appear endless
And when we are done for the day
And unspeaking and in separate rooms
All seems like hallucinations I cannot remember
In this my garden of quiet sadness 
Where I attempt somehow to live through all of this
While I paint what well maybe my last canvas

Ken L. Jones has written everything from Donald Duck comic books to dialogue for the Freddy Krueger movies for the past thirty plus years.  In the last three years he has gained great notice for his vast publication of horror poetry which has appeared in many anthology books, blogs, magazines and websites and especially in his first solo book of poetry Bad Harvest and Other Poems.  He is also publishing recently in the many fine anthology poetry books that Kind of A Hurricane Press is putting out.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

A Poem by Amy Barry

Tomorrow Maybe Love
With long, powerful movements,
she covers one yard after another,
swimming the breaststroke,
raises her head above the
surface, draws air, then
lowers it back down.
Weightless, timeless in the water,
alone in the swimming pool,
thoughts of him haunt,
murmur and whisper.
Uncertainty plagues,
like a toothache.
Amy Barry writes poems and short stories. Her poems have been published in anthologies, journals, and e-zines, in Ireland and abroad. Her poems have been read and shared over the radio in Australia, Canada and Ireland. She loves traveling. Trips to India, Nepal, China, Bali, Paris, Berlin have all inspired her work. When not inspired she plays Table Tennis.