Poetry from Michael Robinson

Dark Days

(Inspired by Nikki Giovanni)

I sit in my prison cell,

My first date with a prostitute was my last day of freedom,

Dreaming when my world was alive,

Now I’m in a 6×8 room with a toilet and sink,

I have been here the last 20 years wishing to see my mother,

One more time before she goes to heaven,

While I sit in this cell with a toilet and sink.

Choices

(Inspired Nikki Giovanni)

For Vincenza Antonetta

I had no choice to not be put away in that mental hospital,

With its padded rooms and five-point restraints.

I had no choice to not go insane with those memories of rape and incest and killings.

No, I had no choice to escape from my past.

No choice from receiving those anti-depressants and shock treatments

Cameras watch me 24/7

Nurses wearing those white dresses and white hats and stockings,

There was no choice for me not to go insane—

As I count the pads in the ceiling.

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Poetry from Bea Garth

The Wind Storms Outside

Your curtains billow gleaming slightly of gold as we talk of forests and seas, two adventurers laughing at our twists and turns marveling at these gifts we’ve won wrestled from our respective Gorgons both of us rushing to speak of the edge of land and water almost making love to it wild like this wind and then just as quickly, soft and sensuous bejeweled by the stars and moon.Meanwhile the beach lies before us, pregnant, frothed by the ocean’s hiss while the sky begins to shift, letting through the sun’s last strands. Soon the wind subsides as we get up
shake hands and go our separate ways.

 

 

Low Tide

If life were simpler

I wouldn’t keep dreaming of you

and how the ocean wind

whipped our ears  and blew our coats

as we searched for shells,

I wouldn’t remember huddling with you

feeling our passions rise

despite the wind, despite the ocean’s hiss.

If life were simpler

I wouldn’t need to imagine you

finding limpets and bleached olive shells

at low tide.

 

 

 

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Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope

Review of The Trotter of Tweeville: Harraf Namrattle by Shirin Lederman
harrafnamrattle
The Trotters of Tweeville Harraf Namrattle is a very cute book. It should be read by mothers and fathers to their children, teachers to students, day care workers to the children they watch. It teaches all about manner and the importance of thinking before one speaks. There is too much rudeness in the world today, especially from children. This book teaches how much nicer it is to think before one speaks and hurts the feelings of another. I highly recommend it.
The Trotters of Tweeville Zavis DaMavis, Book 2 by Shirin Lederman
zavisdamavis
The Trotters of Tweeville Zavis DaMavis is as delightful and educational as the first book. The illustrations are colorful and so cute. Book 2 teaches children on the importance of treating others as they would like to be treated. This is also a must have for anyone that is in charge of teaching young and impressionable minds. I highly recommend this book.
Not So Wise Old Owl by Robert Parfett
notsowiseowl
Not So Wise Old Owl is the perfect book for toddlers, preschool and even kindergartners. Each page rhymes and can be read to children in a rhyming sing song voice. It is a very delightful story and just flows as it is read. Children will love the story and parents and caregivers will have reading it to them. I very highly recommend this book. I absolutely loved it and it brought a smile to my face!

Poetry from Neila Mezynski

Schools out

She asked them if school is out tomorrow, he said no today in his dressed up pants, she did a little hop jump like that.

Neila Mezynski

Bio: Neila Mezynski is author of 6 books: 2 from Scrambler Books and Deadly Chap Press and 1 from Folded Word Press and Nap; 2 echapbooks and 3 pamphlets.

Poetry from Tony Longshanks LeTigre

was it just a dream?
so many things that happen in San Francisco
were like a lucid dream, looking back
like the time i hopped the gate of a vacant Victorian
in Pacific Heights (owned by the hospital across the street
& gathering dust for two decades),
& the back stairs started falling apart
as I scrambled up them
& inside, the house was like a dusty city
on the edge of forever, & how strongly I could
sense the ghosts of the servants who once
toiled in that now cobwebbed kitchen
with its faded & ripped open wallpaper
& how strange it was to be all alone
in that eerily quiet mansion,
slowly ascending the creaky stairs at night
by the light of a candle, telling myself,
“don’t be scared — don’t be scared — there’s no one here but you”
—& anyway, did it really even happen,
or was it just a dream?

Essay from Joan Beebe

THE ADIRONDACK MONTAINS
WHEN I GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL, MY MOM BOUGHT ME
MY FIRST CAR AND IT WAS A REALLY OLD ONE.  HOWEVER, I
WAS PLEASED AND EXCITED TO START MY DRIVING LESSONS.
NOT LONG AFTER THAT, IN THE SUMMER, MY FRIENDS AND I TOOK A TRIP TO THOSE
BEAUTIFUL MOUNTAINS.  WE WERE ABLE TO STAY AT A RUSTIC  LODGING RIGHT
ON A LAKE FOR ONLY $2.00 PER NIGHT PER PERSON.  OUR $30.00 OR $40.00 WOULD TAKE
US THROUGH A WEEKEND, BOTH PAYING FOR LODGING, GAS FOR THE CAR,
FOOD AND SOUVENIRS.  THE FEELING IN THOSE MOUNTAINS BROUGHT A SENSE
OF PEACEFULNESS AND HAPPINESS TO TRAVEL THROUGH ROADS WITH FORSTS OF PINES
AND OCCASIONALLY SEEING SOME WILDLIFE,  ESPECIALLY THE DEER.  WE COULD
SWIM IN THE COOL LAKE WATER BY THE LODGE OR TAKE THEIR ROWBOAT
AND PADDLE TO A SMALL ISLAND TO EXPLORE OR JUST SIT AND BECOME A PART OF
THE QUIET BEAUTY THAT SURROUNDED US.
ONE TIME, WE ALL WENT TO A SQUARE DANCE IN THE NEXT
SMALL TOWN AND WHAT FUN THAT WAS.  WE DANCED AND TWIRLED OUR WAY
INTO THE NIGHT AND DROVE BACK TO THE LODGE TIRED BUT HAPPY
ABOUT OUR EXCITING TIME WITH THOSE GOOD PEOPLE OF THE
MOUNTAINS.
IT WAS ALWAYS A SAD TIME WHEN WE HAD TO LEAVE TO DRIVE HOME.  HOWEVER,
WE KNEW THAT WE WOULD BE BACK AGAIN AND VERY THANKFUL THAT
WE COULD ENJOY THE BEAUTY, FUN AND WONDERS OF THE ADIRONDACKS.
IT ISN’T A SURPRISE THAT WHEN I MARRIED AND HAD CHILDREN, WE TOOK THEM TO
THOSE MOUNTAINS WHICH INCLUDED, NOT JUST THE SPECIAL FUN PLACES FOR CHILDREN, BUT
ALSO TO A DUDE RANCH SEVERAL TIMES WHERE THEY LEARNED TO RIDE A HORSE,
BONFIRES AND COOKOUTS, SWIMMING AND ENTERTAINMENT
IN THE EVENING.  SO MANY GREAT MEMORIES OF THOSE DAYS.  WE STILL,
OCCASIONALLY, WILL DRIVE AGAIN TO OUR PRECIOUS MOUNTAINS TO
ENJOY A BOAT RIDE ON THEIR SPARKLING LAKES, EXPLORE GIFT
SHOPS, EAT GOOD FOOD AND SLEEP BETTER AFTER A DAY IN THE
PURE AIR OF THE ADIRONDACKS.

 

Poetry from Dave Douglas

Imaginarium

My school had a lengthy class
But they were all as such.
One teacher took us places;
She did not need to say much.
Along the white line to nowhere
I stood quietly as was trained,
But black ink shot out of my pen
And my classmates complained.

In the quiet of my bedroom
I covered pages with imagination
Until I was warm with thoughts
And traveled every nation –

To mountains new to my eyes,
To ocean depths I had never been,
To temples and public houses
And faces I had never seen.

“I felt the senseless rage drain
From every pour in my body
Until the plunder of my soul
Could no longer rescue me!” …

My adrenaline soared off a cliff,
I murdered for a woman’s hand,
My ears rang from the applause,
And none of it actually happened.

“The thoughts of rest slowed,
Slowed long enough for the wind
To move from the golden hills
Until the walls of my heart thinned.” …

And, I had boxes and boxes of stories
Stacked for any willing editor.
But the flow of the process stopped,
Like a dam destroying a river.

Springs and summers passed,
Until every season felt like winter.
While I had balanced out each day,
The library was my single adventure.
Until one day, a sunrise surprised me!
It peeked over the mailbox with delight,
An acceptance shined on a story of old –
Imaginarium! And, I continue to write.

Dave Douglas