“With the poem, I reach out to an audience equally at odds with official policy, and I celebrate our mutual humanness in an inhuman world.”
POEM OF THE MONTH
MY LONGING
by Pijush Kanti Deb
Whenever I am to be made,
by Pijush Kanti Deb
Whenever I am to be made,
May God make me only for her
In every door of my closed fate,
Before my death and thereafter-
May God write her love in my name
And make her heart always same to same.
Whenever I am to be blessed,
May God bless her instead of me,
In every moment--- happy or sad,
In every poem of my anthology
May God write her passion in my name
And make me a winner in the passionate game.
Whenever I am to be gifted,
May God gift her first my ownership,
In the part of my life---the most collocated,
In my journey and in its every trip-
May God write her beauty in my name
And make my home luminous in her flame.
Whenever I am to be departed
May God set her dream in my eye,
Let my prayer be reverberated
In every molecule of air and sky,
My rebirth be written in her name
And her love bird be owned again to tame.
In every door of my closed fate,
Before my death and thereafter-
May God write her love in my name
And make her heart always same to same.
Whenever I am to be blessed,
May God bless her instead of me,
In every moment--- happy or sad,
In every poem of my anthology
May God write her passion in my name
And make me a winner in the passionate game.
Whenever I am to be gifted,
May God gift her first my ownership,
In the part of my life---the most collocated,
In my journey and in its every trip-
May God write her beauty in my name
And make my home luminous in her flame.
Whenever I am to be departed
May God set her dream in my eye,
Let my prayer be reverberated
In every molecule of air and sky,
My rebirth be written in her name
And her love bird be owned again to tame.
PIJUSH KANTI DEB is a new Indian poet
with more than 225 published or accepted poems and haiku in more than 68 national and international magazines and journals [print and online] including Down in the Dirt, Taj Mahal Review, Pennine Ink, Hollow Publishing, Creativica Magazine, Muse India, Teeth Dream Magazine, Hermes Poetry Journal, Medusa’s Kitchen, Grey Borders, Dead
Snakes, and Dagda Publishing. His best achievement so far is the publication of his first poetry collection,’’Beneath The Shadow Of
A White Pigeon’’ published
by Hollow Publishing which is
available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Contact
Contact
GOD'S VALENTINE OF LOVE
by Susan Marie Davniero
Valentine's Day so
divine
It's God's Valentine
Our gift of life is
adored
Belongs to the Holy Lord
We have the love to give
For He gave us
everything
Sent by the heavens above
God's Valentine of love
Heart with Cross Drawing by Susan Marie Davniero
Credit: Susan Marie Davniero
SUSAN MARIE DAVNIERO is a published poet listed in "The Poet's Market 2011." She writes in traditional rhyme verse and has been published in various publications including Pancakes in Heaven, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Long Short Story, Great South Bay Magazine, Write On, The Poet's Art, Creations, Poetic Matrix, Pink Chameleon, Shemom, and others. She has also written essays and letters published in newspapers and magazines including the New York Times, Daily News, Newsday, Ladies Home Journal, and Saturday Evening Post. Her blog “Susan Marie” is her writing history. They don't know her; yet, by way of writing they might. She is never at a loss of words. She has found her place as a writer and a poet. With every poem published she is inspired to write more. Writing feeds her soul - literally food for thought. Contact
~~~~~
THE PROUD VIOLET
by Robert L. Martin
My journey through cold
Darkened matter hastened me
To rise and find the sun,
That radiant paradise,
That warm hand that
Stretches through eternity,
Born from ancient visions and
Kept alive through its
Perennial plan
My simple, familiar body
Brags about how I
Can soften hearts and
Adorn empty spaces
My evolving, complex network
Explains how Mother Nature
Is a silent genius that can
Rejuvenate itself as it
Passes through time
Even though I am little
I am an offspring of
Nature’s perpetual stability
ROBERT L.
MARTIN lives in Bangor, PA. His writings have appeared in Mature Years, Alive Now, Verse-Virtual, Storyteller, among
others. He is also a jazz pianist and the church's organist at First
UMC in Wind Gap, PA. Contact
~~~~~
DALLIANCE
by Floriana Hall
Tender
are the moments
We share together
Not always on the same page
We are not always the same age
But close in our hearts.
We like each other
Husband or wife,
Mother, father, sister or brother,
Friends or extended family
And that is the key
To continuous harmony.
No relationship is perfect
But is better with respect,
And hearing opinions open-minded
Trying not to outshine or undermine
The rapport which we seek.
We do not have to pretend
That we are just fair weather friends
No matter what, we will stick together
Like glue on an unopened package -
We are the package that is open,
Above board and all together
And we never regret time spent
In relationships where we are content.
We share together
Not always on the same page
We are not always the same age
But close in our hearts.
We like each other
Husband or wife,
Mother, father, sister or brother,
Friends or extended family
And that is the key
To continuous harmony.
No relationship is perfect
But is better with respect,
And hearing opinions open-minded
Trying not to outshine or undermine
The rapport which we seek.
We do not have to pretend
That we are just fair weather friends
No matter what, we will stick together
Like glue on an unopened package -
We are the package that is open,
Above board and all together
And we never regret time spent
In relationships where we are content.
FLORIANA HALL was born in 1927 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She is a Distinguished Graduate of Cuyahoga Falls High School, Ohio in June 1948, and attended Akron University. She is an author and poet of 17 inspirational books, nonfiction and poetry. All of her books are available on Amazon.com. She has five children, nine grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren. She is the founder and coordinator of THE POET'S NOOK at Cuyahoga Falls Library. Contact Website Website
~~~~~
THE BRIGHT RED BIRD
by Patricia Crandall
The bright red bird
sits upon the swaying branch of a tree.
Tree limb upon limb upon limb
sways with gentle wind.
Pure white snow surrounds the acreage.
The bright red bird
sitting silent, composed
a vivid pleasure to my eye.
His mate
has left his presence
while I admire him.
The bright red bird.
I shall not harm him,
The sun shines fleetly
on snow and the red bird.
He flies away.
In the distance
buff-colored mate
flies with him.
PATRICIA
CRANDALL has three books in print: a thriller, THE DOG MEN, a
historical volume, MELROSE: THEN AND NOW, and a poetry book, I PASSED THIS WAY.
She is currently working on an adventure/thriller novel and a book of bottle
mining adventures. She lives with her husband on a lake in the Grafton Mountains
in upstate New York. Contact Website
~~~~~
TO DIANE
by Fred Leavitt
I
My violin shrieks
and rends the air with lament
but look who wields the bow
don't blame the instrument
I write ill-matched couplet, tinkly rhyme
but others, with words full-known to me
breathed life to Kubla Khan and Leda's swan
and the fair Lake Isle of Innisfree
II
My spirit was dormant, uninspired
listlessly played by those I knew
aimless drippings on a cluttered canvas
and then came you
Newfound emotions surged within me
for Gods can be made from fools
I knew beauty, passion, tender love
It's the worker, not the tools.
FRED LEAVITT was born in Brooklyn, New York, to homemaker Goldie and poet and teacher Ezekiel Leavitt. He has virtually no memories of his father, who died when he was four. He started his collegiate studies at 16 at the City College of New York, dropped out, went to Brooklyn College, dropped out, and randomly chose Eastern New Mexico University where he graduated with a B.S. in 1964. He received his Ph.D. degree in psychopharmacology in 1968 from the University of Michigan and did post-graduate doctorate work at the University of California, Berkeley 1968-1969. Leavitt has been on the faculty at California State University, East Bay, California almost all his adult life. He also has taught for one or more semesters at Williams College; Northern Arizona University; the University of British Columbia; the University of Hawaii; the United States International University (in both Kenya and the United Kingdom); the University of Utrecht (Netherlands); Bogazici University (in Turkey); Massey University (in New Zealand); and National University of Singapore (Singapore). Leavitt gives occasional talks to medical doctors for their continuing medical education requirements. In 1964 he married Diane Bright. The Leavitts live in Oakland, California, and have two married daughters and two grandchildren. Contact
|
~~~~~
THE WAY WE WERE
by Shirley Securro
The way we were
The best for sure
The times were good
and we all could
be happy and dream
reach goals it seemed
Things were pure
and we had a cure
Times were slow
in rain or snow
when people cared;
they loved and shared
The comfort of my home
it seemed
Was all that I had ever
dreamed!
SHIRLEY SECURRO has been
published in "Best Poems and Poets of 2005," "Who's Who In
International Poetry," "Famous Poets of the Heartland," and
more. She was a finalist in a chapbook contest with AMERICA "Let Freedom Reign" OUR SACRIFICES OUR HEROES
by Bear House Publishing. She has designed two book covers for other authors
and does poetry readings for churches, weddings, funerals, and meetings. Contact
~~~~~
MY ROCK AND ROLL DAYS
by Susan Marie Davniero
I look back rather to find
My youth left far behind
When record discs spun around
When record discs spun around
Dancing about to the rockin’ sound
Songs that spoke of peace and love
This teenage girl found plenty of
And when self could do no wrong
I listen silently to a ballad song
Musical score records my fate
The songs play on to future dates
Bade farewell to carefree ways
To my early Rock and Roll days
Yet when act two comes along
I find the music still rocks on
Songs that I didn’t forget
The party isn’t over yet!
SUSAN MARIE DAVNIERO is a published poet listed in "The Poet's Market 2011." She writes in traditional rhyme verse and has been published in various publications including Pancakes in Heaven, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Long Short Story, Great South Bay Magazine, Write On, The Poet's Art, Creations, Poetic Matrix, Pink Chameleon, Shemom, and others. She has also written essays and letters published in newspapers and magazines including the New York Times, Daily News, Newsday, Ladies Home Journal, and Saturday Evening Post. Her blog “Susan Marie” is her writing history. They don't know her; yet, by way of writing they might. She is never at a loss of words. She has found her place as a writer and a poet. With every poem published she is inspired to write more. Writing feeds her soul - literally food for thought. Contact
~~~~~
UNITED
by JD DeHart
I want to spell united, but
too frequently spell untied,
the ends never quite looping
together. There is no fork
sticking out of this situation,
for sure. I once thought I was
perfect, but it turns out I was
wrong. I used to think utopia
was around the corner,
but the only utopia I have met
was a girl who left quickly.
JD DEHART is a writer and teacher. His work has previously appeared in Long Story Short, and has also appeared in Eye On Life Magazine and Eunoia Review, among other publications. DeHart's first chapbook The Truth About Snails was released in Fall 2014. Contact Blog
~~~~~
MISSING OF THE BIRDS
by Michael Lee Johnson
Keep my journal short.
Just review January
through March.
Life is a dig deep
snow on my sorrow.
Bare bones of naked
sparrows,
beneath my balcony,
lie lifeless.
The few survivors
huddle in bushes.
Gone, gone is kitchen
bowl that holds the seeds.
Sparrows cannot get
inside my refrigerator door
nor shop late at
Wal-Mart during winter hours−
get away with it.
I drink dated
milk. I host rehearsals of childhood.
Sip Mogen David
Concord Wine with Diet 7Up.
Down sweet molasses
and pancake butter.
I give in to
condominium Polish demands.
My neighbor's parties,
loud blast language.
I am weak in the Jesus
feeding of the poor.
I now merge day with
night and sleep
avoid my shame and
guilt.
I try clean, my thoughts of shell spotted snow.I see fragments, no more feeding of the birds.
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 875 small press magazines in 27 countries, he edits 9 poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom which is available at Amazon and iUniverse (136 pages 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 71 poetry videos on YouTube. Contact Website Website
~~~~~
FERRIS WHEEL
by Ginny Cope
I'm listening to the sound of chairs a riding,
The cranking of the wheels of bright light.
Slowly falling round and round
Rising to turn and turn hitting the ground.
You never know how you might be stuck,
Here on the top or at the bottom
I'm a senior citizen on this old ride
A simply delightful Ferris wheel
This indeed is the bright ride,
I cover my eyes as we go in the air
Miles away you see the steel lights
Strollers below look upward with delight
The grinding after being greased,
My pleasure in riding is my relief.
Locking the bar between us is neat
Age is endless for those who like to swing their feet
GINNY COPE was born in Silver Springs, Maryland and she was
raised in Fort Worth, Texas. She is now married and a housewife. Her hobbies
include art, music, singing, writing, poetry, short stories, short plays, and
short screenplays. She has received two awards from the Famous Poets Society in
Talent, Oregon. These include the Editor’s Choice Awards in two anthology
books. She is a VIP Alumni. She plans on continuing writing poetry, short
stories, short plays and short screen plays for journal magazines such as the
Poet’s Market. She has had one other poetry magazine called Write On! Poetry Magazette publish four of her poems
from the Poet’s Market in Fairfield, Utah.
~~~~~
WOMAN IN PORCELAIN
by Patricia Wellingham-Jones
She glows
female mystery
in white porcelain
slender
elongated
face nose throat
delicate
in feature
in feeling
lips sensitive
slim neck carved
in symbols
of her tribe
female
mystery
eternal
PATRICIA WELLINGHAM-JONES is a former psychology researcher and writer/editor with poetry widely published in journals, anthologies and Internet magazines. She has a special interest in healing with poems recently in The Widow’s Handbook (Kent State University Press). Chapbooks include Don’t Turn Away: poems about breast cancer, End-Cycle: poems about caregiving, Apple Blossoms at Eye Level, Voices on the Land and Hormone Stew. Contact
~~~~~
by Floriana Hall
It's crisp and fresh each morning,
Our new fallen snow.
It is white but has no odor
Unlike daisies I know.
To gaze at dazzling white
Is a rather pretty sight for the eyes, except
I'd rather it be out of sight, out of mind,
Not out my front and back door.
The snow turns to ice with zero degrees
Don't mind the cold, but don't like the freeze!
When winter blues or blahs are here
Life can still be a blast.
With birthday parties,
Valentine's Day, President's Day,
Any sunny day,
Those are things that will last.
FLORIANA HALL was born in 1927 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She is a Distinguished Graduate of Cuyahoga Falls High School, Ohio in June 1948, and attended Akron University. She is an author and poet of 17 inspirational books, nonfiction and poetry. All of her books are available on Amazon.com. She has five children, nine grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren. She is the founder and coordinator of THE POET'S NOOK at Cuyahoga Falls Library. Contact Website Website
~~~~~
SEALED WITH A KISS – SWAK
by Susan Marie Davniero
At
eighteen I vacation away from home
On the roadway free to roam
Pack luggage with best friend Marge
Destination was Florida at large
Mom's loving letters from home wrote
Writing "SWAK" on her envelopes
Another love letter meant more to me
Sent by Bob, my husband to be
Bob's words of love spoke
"Marry Me?" - was all he wrote
On the roadway free to roam
Pack luggage with best friend Marge
Destination was Florida at large
Mom's loving letters from home wrote
Writing "SWAK" on her envelopes
Another love letter meant more to me
Sent by Bob, my husband to be
Bob's words of love spoke
"Marry Me?" - was all he wrote
 |
| Mom’s SWAK Envelope,
Credit: Susan Marie Davniero |
SUSAN MARIE DAVNIERO is a published poet listed in "The Poet's Market 2011." She writes in traditional rhyme verse and has been published in various publications including Pancakes in Heaven, Coffee Ground Breakfast, Long Short Story, Great South Bay Magazine, Write On, The Poet's Art, Creations, Poetic Matrix, Pink Chameleon, Shemom, and others. She has also written essays and letters published in newspapers and magazines including the New York Times, Daily News, Newsday, Ladies Home Journal, and Saturday Evening Post. Her blog “Susan Marie” is her writing history. They don't know her; yet, by way of writing they might. She is never at a loss of words. She has found her place as a writer and a poet. With every poem published she is inspired to write more. Writing feeds her soul - literally food for thought. Contact
~~~~~
UNEXPECTED PLEASURE
by Patricia Crandall
The delicate ting-a-ling
of breaking ice
as the lake dispels
winter
PATRICIA CRANDALL has three books in print: a thriller, THE DOG MEN, a historical volume, MELROSE: THEN AND NOW, and a poetry book, I PASSED THIS WAY. She is currently working on an adventure/thriller novel and a book of bottle mining adventures. She lives with her husband on a lake in the Grafton Mountains in upstate New York. Contact Website
~~~~~
SUN SET
by Debbie Hilbish
It is a ritual I perform, trying to steal glances
With… almost timid anticipation.
Though even I am not naive enough
to believe
the interlude is for me alone,
for one moment,
I pretend;
hues of barely there random pinks
beginning
to whisper softly against the blues,
azure to powder,
is for my eyes only.
No room for jealousy
at the infinite lovers before
and even now,
whose breath quickens
as does mine,
experiencing
oranges with subtle entry
exploding
into a panorama of purple-red
bursting fire
to spark the soul
and ignite a passion
so intense it’s taking breath away.
The high low sharp intake
of mountain range
mimics the quickening of the heart
in silhouette.
Reaching
a climax and
still
proclaiming subtle reluctance to end too quickly
the sun sets gently
ushering in the night sky
and I sigh
DEBBIE
HILBISH has been writing poetry since she was a young
teen. Her first book of poetry was published in 2007, followed by a published
chapbook in 2010. Debbie has held poetry readings throughout the southwest and
had seminars, sponsored by Arizona and New Mexico libraries, on poetry
appreciation for young adults. She also hosted an eight week author’s fair
at The Reader’s Oasis bookstore in Quartzsite, Arizona from 2008 through 2012.
She is presently directing her energy towards working on her first novel. Contact
Photo Source Note: "Maxine Kumin in
1974" by Marthe Willendyck (mother of Thierry Bingen at English Wikipedia)
- It was taken by her friend Marthe Willendyck, my mother, at her home..
Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via WikimediaCommons.
LOOKING BACK IN MY EIGHTY-FIRST YEAR
How did we get to be old
ladies—
my grandmother’s job—when we
were the long-leggèd girls?
— Hilma Wolitzer
Instead of marrying the
day after graduation,
in spite of freezing on my
father’s arm as
here comes the bride
struck up,
saying, I’m not sure I
want to do this,
I should have taken that
fellowship
to the University of
Grenoble to examine
the original manuscript
of Stendhal’s unfinished
Lucien Leuwen,
I, who had never been west
of the Mississippi,
should have crossed the
ocean
in third class on the
Cunard White Star,
the war just over, the
Second World War
when Kilroy was here, that
innocent graffito,
two eyes and a nose draped
over
a fence line. How could I go?
Passion had locked us
together.
Sixty years my lover,
he says he would have
waited.
He says he would have sat
where the steamship docked
till the last of the
pursers
decamped, and I rushed
back
littering the runway with
carbon paper . . .
Why didn’t I go? It was
fated.
Marriage dizzied us. Hand
over hand,
flesh against flesh for
the final haul,
we tugged our lifeline
through limestone and sand,
lover and long-leggèd
girl.
Read the entire poem at:
For the poet’s biography, see:
Quoted for educational purposes only.
All work the copyright of the respective authors.
BACK TO
VOTED ONE OF WRITER'S DIGEST'S
101 BEST WEBSITES FOR WRITERS
FOR NINE CONSECUTIVE YEARS!
THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
No comments:
Post a Comment