by Michael Neal Morris
by Michael Neal Morris
Acts of Magick
by Laurie Corzett
If our will’s work is to be done,
We must go out and do it
Action, once begun,
Has beauty and power to it
Aiming true to course
Needs thought and reflection
Feed movement from the source
Of our yearn toward perfection
The play is never done
Each and every one
Performing through their part
Reinvents our start
So join the song, and sing your tune
Dance strong beneathe a rousing Moon
Another day, another seed
Bursts out into the Sun
seeking outlet for those crazy thoughtstreams, is always moving into new (or resurrected) projects, including Emerging Visions visionary art ‘zine:http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com — Issue #21: Threshold Revelations invites you to take in trance lucence.
by John J Kazlauskas
I thought it would be easy
to just walk away
with no explanation
like players after a game
they pass each other and say
but down deep they don’t mean it
how can you congratulate
who just beat you
as if it was not that important
just a diversion of sorts
a way to pass the afternoon
but later when you are alone
sitting at the dinner table
you realize that it was
the hardest thing
you ever had to do.
John J Kazlauskas is retired and living in Tucson Arizona where he writes, paints, swims and cooks. This is his first attempt to get his work published.
Tonight’ s Argument
by Anna Stuart
It is a brazen word you carve
into the air tonight.
Your vocabulary abruptly
shatters all my arguments.
I lose my strong hold
of stubborn justifications.
“I love you no matter what.”
flies across the room
hitting me harder than
I ever dreamed any words would.
I surrender knowing I lost the argument
but still have won you.
Anna Stuart lives and writes in New Jersey.
Fever in Ivory
by Melanie Browne
the partridge rosette that sits on her head,
shredded remnants of spring scattered
across the stonehenge
of her heart,
She doesn’t pray for
like all the others-
instead she sits and waits
her heart counter to
the precambrian wind,
she is frozen
like a statue of Mary,
far from Jerusalem,
the hammer of wintertide
colossal clock of winter
Melanie Browne is a poet and fiction writer living in Texas.
From a Child’s Eye View
by Shirley Robertson
children don’t notice long lines of traffic
they hear the windshield wipers going doo-roop, doo-roop
they hear the rain dripping
the cars swooshing by
they see semis, much more enormous than dad’s SUV
they see wind tossing leaves across the interstate
the ten red cars passing
they feel the rain tickle their fingers through the open window
they feel the cool, wet air
the damp seats
and are startled to learn that the windows
MUST BE ROLLED UP NOW!
Shirley Robertson is a poet and blogger from St. Louis, Missouri, former editor of The End, a literary magazine, and Morning Coffee, a newsletter. Her new e-book of short verse and haiku is now available for free download: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/119212
Malibu Mornings (2004)
by Ariel Westberg
Each hour treads hastily upon bliss
and fleeting desolation.
Upon love and hate, even as the trees
gently call my name,
as the ocean is serene….
The tip of ocean’s tongue lapping at my toes;
granules of sand finding their way home
as this breeze is destined to my skin….
These sightless waves, they do not discern.
They reach indiscriminately
between a woman who believes that she does belong….
and a woman who does not.
But my lovely life winds down the bend
with knowing grins.
It gives me these Malibu mornings.
If I could do what a woman would do
maybe I’ll learn to be unafraid.
But my love does not fathom its enormitity.
And my strength doesn’t realize its mission.
Young and unhinged, as I sail along
the cocophany of the shore.
All I want is to belong
As the ocean wants for nothing.
Ariel Westberg is a poet and singer-songwriter from Los Angeles. She attended the Evergreen State College and Cornish College of the Arts in Washington State where she studied writing, classical composition and vocal jazz. She has been writing poetry, drawing, and singing since she was a small child. Writing has always been her first love. Her work has appeared in various poetry publications and she is currently writing a childrens’ novel.
by Aashish Thakur
I called a tree- ‘Tree’
And said-‘I am the wind’
I called the wind-‘Wind’
And said- ‘I am the cloud’
Then I shout the name -’ Cloud’
I saw the lightning and thunder
Angry cloud said-‘ How dare you, I am the rain’
Then I asked the rain- ‘How are you river?’
After that, my legs never got dirty
And I never felt thirsty
Aashish Thakur, a young poet from India. His poems look at the world through the oriental lenses. The myriad colors and subjects of life bloom in his poem but with a very personal tone of voice. Which defines his own existence in this absurd world.
by Johanna Donovan
Johanna Donovan is a transplanted Swiss who lives in New England.