HUNGRY FIRE Here is a debutante Burning on a hungry fire That is sparkling and searing Chewing the nerves in her chest Gulping the blood in her spleen Though not satiated The fire is hissing like the sound a snake might make Symbol of hungriness written on the wall of her hub Designed by blue flames She feels the hungry fire burning and burning The fire to flow like water that flows in the ocean The fire to glow like a candle that glows in the dark The fire to sparkle like freshly fallen snow that sparkles in winter This fire is felt not seen I feel hungry fire burning in me too. Aisha MLabo writes from Katsina,Nigeria,and is a Law student of Umaru Musa Yar'adua University Katsina Nigeria.
Monthly Archives: December 2022
Poetry from J.D. Nelson
a football party at a house across the street— yellow moon grows full chickpeas & brown rice . . . a spider climbs down a thread to investigate leaves are blown from trees— the driver with a flashlight asks for directions in the chicken coop a few mice scurry away . . . the cold autumn wind bare tree silhouettes against the cloudy night sky— the dog sniffs dead leaves crescent moon at dusk— the squirrels’ nests are revealed in the bare branches ------------- bio/graf J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poems have appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of ten chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Nelson’s poem, “to mask a little bird” was nominated for Best of the Net. Visit http://MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at http://JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.
Poetry from Canadian poet Lisa Reynolds
Poetry from Gerard Sarnat
Theater Of Your Absurd
Arguably during life’s central act,
drama included both of us finishing
education and training, raising our family
plus finding fulfilling work; I was the adult
more in need of nurturance, well as support.
But during one of these last smaller phases,
maybe approaching a decade now, it occurs
that I, more often than not, am likely partner to
give in excess of receive. Fair’s fair, reciprocation
fine ‘n dandy unless Gerard’s basics aren’t being met?
Thanks, Stanford Medical School
While passing on their short-lived plan you get joint Ph.D. in social psychology then oy veh become an academic shrink
(Didn’t happen); when I chose The Farm because of virtue of five not-standard-four-year curriculum, which unlike maybe say Havad, seemed extremely convenient for kid who never took any college pre-med--also since pass-fail rather than grades-although first semester was flunked by Nobel Laureates teaching biochemistry’s ust-review course for most classmates
---But all new to Sarnat….Schmoozing one noon with Dean’s Office secretary he reveals Faculty Senate now’s looking
at my exam book as example of students on LSD: specifics being absurdly wrong I complained to Chairperson they should at
very least, give Gerry a chance to defend self against charges. He expressed guilt t denying due process, and after Gerard
ranked tops on year-end final exam, R.M. look it upon himself to make things right. Although I used extra downtime to major
in San Francisco’s 1967 Summer of Love, sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll; I luckily ended up sponsored by sequential Internal Medicine Department honchos for plum internship then junior residency at Beth Israel Hospital!
subtle absurdity
some folks (perhaps all, & I am just not observing other bodies)
have commodity runs, maybe changing glasses frames every year
whereas Gerry only gets new ones if my style is no longer available
would guess occurs in neighborhood of once per decade
though yesterday
for a very 1st time you began to understand or realize, after 2-term-President
or even cicada lifecycle periods of wearing that single quite old pair of slippers
over last most recent era, it appears Sarnat’s become sooo promiscuously volatile
Gerard Sarnat has been nominated for the pending 2022 Science Fiction Poetry Association Dwarf Star Award, won San Francisco Poetry’s 2020 Contest, the Poetry in the Arts First Place Award plus the Dorfman Prize, and has been nominated for handfuls of 2021 and previous Pushcarts plus Best of the Net Awards. Gerry is widely published including in 2022-2023 San Diego Poetry Annual, 2022 Awakenings Review, 2022 Arts & Cultural Council of Bucks County Celebration, 2022 Rio Grande Valley International Poetry Festival Anthology, The Font, BigCityLit, HitchLit Review, Lowestoft, Washington Square Review, The Deronda Review, Jewish Writing Project, Hong Kong Review, Tokyo Poetry Journal, Buddhist Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, New Delta Review, Arkansas Review, Hamilton-Stone Review, Northampton Review, New Haven Poetry Institute, Texas Review, Vonnegut Journal, Brooklyn Review, San Francisco Magazine, Monterey Poetry Review, The Los Angeles Review, and The New York Times as well as by NYU, Slippery Rock, Northwestern, Pomona, Harvard, Stanford, Dartmouth, Penn, Columbia, North Dakota, McMaster, Maine, University of British Columbia and University of Chicago and University of Virginia presses.
He is a Harvard College and Medical School-trained physician who’s built and staffed clinics for the marginalized as well as a Stanford professor and healthcare CEO.Currently he is devoting energy/ resources to deal with climate justice, and serves on Climate Action Now’s board. Gerry’s been married since 1969 with progeny consisting of four collections (Homeless Chronicles: From Abraham To Burning Man, Disputes, 17s, Melting the Ice King) plus three kids/ six grandsons — and is looking forward to potential future granddaughters.
Poetry from Gaurav Ojha
FREE, IF your past can’t recognize you for what you are now Free, IF you know that the face you carry is a mask that has been unmasked many times Free, IF you realize that you are a pretender that you always wanted to become Free, IF you can think even when they want to think for themselves but they can’t Free, IF you let your life speak rather than measure your being on the shadows of other lives FREE, you want to try again, even IF you have been tested out many times Free, IF you remain interested in something just to feel its resonances in your bones Free, IF you can travel on a bumpy road that doesn’t have any destination Free, IF you can let go of everythings you have for who you are FREE, IF you realize that your a selfish gene and you are only here for a brief survival Free, IF you recognize the difference between having and being Free, even IF someone closes the door on you, we are all under the same sky Free, IF you can imagine a possibility even when without any probability Free, IF you can walk in and out of the market without buying anything Free, IF you can suspect what you have been told with what has been discovered Free, even IF you have chosen the most traveled way, you know there is no other way out FREE, IF you are not framed within an idea or identity, which says you are us/not like them Free, IF you can meet someone for that moment, without diluting her present with past Free, IF you know that you have to carry a rock to the hilltop and roll the burden down Free, IF you realize that it's just a circus in rounds and the audiences admire their clowns FREE, IF you can find ALL in NOTHING and Nothing in All
Poetry from J.J. Campbell
to kill any horse around welcome to the place where laughter died where the dreams of innocent children are hung from a tree for the birds to pick at and eventually slaughter where the crosses are burned with the same gasoline that the police use to trap the wrong colors on the wrong street on the wrong side of this town where the ghosts have enough drugs on them to kill any horse around where old poets seek a quiet death in some abandoned relic of a vibrant past when the creative ones only have violence left run for the fucking hills -------------------------------------------------------------------- nice and festive they have the christmas decorations up at the hospital they look nice and festive it's a quick smile before the doom starts a few doors down ---------------------------------------------------------------- sink deeper old lovers laugh at me as i sink deeper into this fucking depression all chances now officially pissed away toxic isn't even the beginning of it but the urgency of now still exists one fist for the bottle both fists for the gun there's bound to be a cold, lonely night before too long --------------------------------------------------------------------- i should change my ways my doctor told me the other day alcohol was slowly killing me i laughed and said my plan was finally working he didn't seem amused told me i should change my ways that train left years ago i told him i'm closer to being one of my heroes now he said i should pick better ones i laughed and told him if i would have had his life of privilege maybe that would have been possible ---------------------------------------------------------------------- a little closer than these old people were comfortable with i was following a blue car out of town i was running late and the blue car couldn't give two shits about going the speed limit i never tried passing the car i probably did get a little closer than these old people were comfortable with i breezed by them once we got on the highway, never bothering to even look over i was on the off ramp getting ready to turn when that blue car came by in the other lane honking the horn and giving me the finger i laughed hopefully, i'll get the chance to see that blue car in town one day you know, return the favor so to speak
Poetry from Jalaal Raji
THE BLIND ARCHER Oh Love, how unfair and rude are you Shots without permission, of two hearts, one Makes him suffer the pain of heart, one blur hue While the other freely live in vain and fun With your arrows and bow, one like the mouth of a bay, you’ve made many a deceived sheep fall in love with the mouth-watering wolf, its death While he thinks he’d give him a sound sleep And Echo with Narcissus, the narcissistic angel-boy That her voice, in the cave she waited, vitiated to echo And through you she avenged on the one that toy For you made him fall for a self-nymph, his reflect Harmless you look though armed Can’t see that, because you’re blind Though sweet you infect, you’re wicked But the love of Aphrodite, your mother Is one soft, gentle, loyal and tender For she comes abreast only when you bid her That sweet I crave for in, and further On her lips I slept off when I kissed her For her love compared to yours is sweeter Shall you continue to make monkey fall for sparrow And you, partially with Psyche, but your bow and arrow