Dead town - an elegy

In dead town, plastic bags circle and twirl in dust storms,/ Discarded fast-food confetti lines the windswept streets –/ Concrete aisles wedding all to forlorn hopelessness,/ The emptiness of an unconsummated dream... [more]

Jackass In The House

There’s a Jackass in the White house
He’s eaten all the corn,
filled the halls with bullshit
the Neocons call porn.
He’s killed our sons and daughters; sent them off to war, and threatened us with more to read

Why don’t you just scream?

Scream if you have to.

Scream and prove you are still alive.

Read more at The Shore of My Dreams

To love

A shimmering light,

A twist of sparkle,

A breaking dawn,

A glowing horizon.

A smearing glimmer...[more]

Life's Punches

Another one of life's trials like always unexpected came walking down my road Sized me up knocked me down like an eager young boxer punching my beliefs to the ground Completely numbed I find myself left with nothing No anger or resentment no ... entire poem

Cars In Corn Fields

Calling Cornfield Cathy:
Where do you sleep tonight?
Are you still there in the corn field
doing all the Mister Rights?

The Ballad of the Second Chance Saloon

Well, I'm a rambler, a gambler and a bad man all through there never was nothing that I wouldn't do. I rode into Deadhorse one late afternoon where the one place for whiskey was the Second Chance Saloon. More...

Zen Dawn

Zen Dawn

click to read

Diamonds - (A Septet)

Diamonds
skidding across snow,
warm giggles endowed by sun
wrapped in quiet skies and whisper winds.
February's gracious dance
in white soft slippers
toward spring.
more

feng shui is when she walks out talking the dog and the last pack of cigarettes

nine times out of 10 when she says she means it, she really does mean it (more)

Untitled Restraints

Trapped inside my secrets,
my house of rising sun,
where will my journey end
if I should choose to run?

Continue

Bar Rags

Shiny glasses
Stained by lips of moral decay
Kissing liquefied pain from cruelty goblets
Topsy turvy patrons balanced on stools hanging on for dear life
Against the storm. more

Reborn

Wet raveled t-shirts whip the backs of boys in chaotic locker room hurricanes that lead to punches after the shirts unravel; fighting words

leap, as the wet tip licks a dot on the back and a jolt of painful pleasure surges. Painful because it hurts, but full of pleasure, because you know you

deserve it. Just like the dinners when you say what your parents don’t want to hear, or drunks misunderstanding worried words to try and help;

a fist is the answer, a punch here and there or an unraveled diary, its fibers distorting after school activities and screaming your hidden thoughts

through tangled subjects and predicates high school English teachers would love to dissect and place in poetry contests to somehow put

....

More

Celestial

Soft hums
Wrapped in blue folds
Of celestial bliss
Vibrant skies racing with white clouds
Homeward.

More

The oceans of time turn unafraid

of all my futile rage.

Read the rest at The Shores of My Dreams

Walking on the Edge

Walking on the forward edge of winter as it tilts, tipping over toward spring-- more

You throw your love

at me like firecrackers

Read the rest at The Shores of My Dreams

Bad Jobs -- Poetry Prompt

I've posted a limerick and a haiku on the theme of "bad jobs" and invite my fellow/sister poets to participate in my latest limerick and haiku poetry prompt on the "bad jobs" theme. I hope to see you over at There's No Substitute For A Bad Job Limerick and Haiku Prompt, where you can post your bad job verse links. Thanks!

Poets Who Blog: Valentine's Day

Poets Who Blog: Valentine's Dayttp://midwestpoet.wordpress.com/2008/02/13/saving-va

Enter The Ekphrastic Poem Contest

Inspired by a photo published at Zyzzyva Speaks. Enter the contest.

Blog Critique: Poetry By Stacey

I received the following comment this morning from a reader and thought I’d oblige the request:

I hope that you dont mind me asking,BUT, would you mind viewing my poetry blog and let me know your opinion on my poems (good or not so good). I have never set up a blog before so any advice on how to prehaps get a bit more recognition etc would be very helpful. Thanks and hope you enjoy reading them as much as i enjoyed writing them.

See how I respond to Stacey at World Class Poetry Blog.

As the Moon

His eyes have been fixed on the darkened sky For hours after her red car pulled away To sleep’s call his heart won’t let him reply sewil-nodnal.livejournal.com

She's Gone

Golden bars glimmer,
shimmer and shine
trapping my heart
in empty sunlight.
No clutter, no flutter.
No obstinate squawk.

More...

Out at Sea

My heart is as a boat without a sail Drifting down the tumultuous sea of love..... sewil-nodnal.livejournal.com

Somehow They Know

Somehow they know-- camellia buds, tiny green fists clenched tight against the world. more

My Favorite Place

My favorite place is far away
but not so far from here.
It takes a while to get there
even though it is quite near.
The road I take is winding
except when it is straight.
I can't wait to get there but I guess I'll have to wait.

Who wants to go with me?

Dirty Talk

I could sense her desire,
her body electric,
kisses like fire.
A moment we rarely knew
as she let go
of her inhibitions.
Talk dirty to me...

Two-Line Crystalline Poems

Moody wind whines in spiral curves
blasting Fall leaves in bewildered swerves.

Her grin, a slit empty of grace
happiness never to paint her face.

More...

Stormlight and Prayer

An afternoon of thunder and stormlight. An hour of prayer. Dear God, I wish-- More here

Why Book Critics Are Losing Their Dog Gone Influence

There is an interesting discussion going on about the state of literary criticism and blogging. It was started by William Skidelsky of Prospect Magazine. I found this little gem through Bud Parr’s blog, Chekhov’s Mistress, though I was disappointed to find that the quote Parr borrowed from Skidelsky was nowhere to be found at this URL. The following snippet was actually borrowed from the Prospect magazine blog:

Get the full analysis at World Class Poetry Blog.

Show Me Your Tattoo

"Tattoo"

Say young lady with the soft plush eyes,
do you wear pink for comfort
or more for style? Does your hair
flow forever like a river,
a nature spring?

Read the rest of "Tattoo" at World Class Poetry Blog.

Dial-A-Poet: An Idea Whose Time Has Come And Gone

John Giorno is a giant among poets. He was friends with William Burroughs and Charles Bukowski, lover to Andy Warhol, disciple of Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsburg, and has been an inspiration to at least two generations of poets since. That’s quite a pedigree.

Find out what I think about Giorno, Burroughs, Buk, and the future of poetry.

Sea Change

Day mysterious
Draped in gray indifference
While white sparks gather
In edgy excited crowds
Marching in mob formation.