Poetry from JD DeHart

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Ash Heap
I’m not sure where all
of this is headed.  Of course.
How could I know?
Today I floated by, literally
above the clouds, above storms.
The world was a series of tiny images.
How do you like a thing
like that?
This is not a metaphor.  I repeat.
This is not a metaphor.
I watched as wings lowered,
moved to create resistance.  I
laughed out loud.
I thought of da Vinci’s drawings,
sketches of how all this works.
Then I saw it in action.
They worked it out, the madmen,
I joked to myself.
Passing over those small heaps
below.  Dotted areas like mold
were trees.  Ash heaps, water circles.
People too tiny to see.

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Travel vignette from Norman Olson

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a quick trip to Amsterdam

by:  Norman J. Olson

 

I guess that of all the places I have been, my favorite is the country called The Netherlands…  the people are tall, intelligent, friendly, practical, industrious and have a country that seems to work without the evils of poverty and crime which blight so much of this planet…  the architecture is interesting, the public transit excellent, and the light is as gorgeous as trees disappearing in the mist…  their dedication to the bicycle as a mode of transportation gives their society a health and vigor that is just a delight to share… a country famous for flowers, bicycles and great art, and a country where the national food is the pannekoeken…  what is not to like????

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Poetry from Margi Garcia

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A Child’s Love

 

The only love I have is for my kids, they give me a reason to live.

Every time I feel like I have no might I look in their eyes and I know that I have to fight.

They know their mom would do anything for them, fight a great big giant the size of Goliath.

Because of them I am the woman that I am today and I’m not a slave in my mental state.

They come to mind every time I want to do something crazy and I don’t do it because of my babies.

I look at them and I see me, the resemblance is so deep. I know that my babies are going to have a real chance at a better life then me. I’m speaking it to be.

I give them tough love because life is tough and they have to understand that nothing in life will just be given to them.

My wish for my three kids are the three H’s Health, Happiness, and Hope. With those three things I feel they will make it.

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Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope

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A Year In The Life Of Mr. Fox
by Frederick Malphurs
drfoxcover
A Year In The Life Of Mr. Fox by Frederick Malphurs is based on true events of the war between the drug cartels in Mexico. It tells of the fear and violence and extreme danger the drug cartels posed to the citizens. it shows how impossible the war on drugs is. As long as there is a demand then they will supply the drugs. One family goes after the drug cartel after they kill their sister as retaliation for something her husband has done. This book is very interesting and very hard to put down. You will want to read it cover to cover. I highly recommend it.
Flight of the Valkyrie
by Dr. Arthur Cantrell
flightofvalkyrie
The Flight of the Valkyrie by Arthur Cantrell is a military suspense thriller that takes place towards the end of WWII. The Germans are in a fierce battle with the Russians as they try to make their way towards Germany. Rumors of the United States having manufactured the atomic bomb have reached Heinrich Himmler. He wants those plans and wants to send his best man to get them. This is a compelling novel that is based on true events near the end of WWII. For fans of history novels, this is an intriguing read that will keep the reader engaged until the very last page. I found The Flight of the Valkyrie a very riveting and very highly recommend this.

The Success Story: Drama from Chimezie Ihekuna (Installment 2)

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Chimezie Ihekuna

Chimezie Ihekuna

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the second installment of Chimezie Ihekuna’s play ‘The Success Story.’ Read the first part here.

At Harp’s Residence…

A bungalow painted blue at the exterior, well-fenced from all sides and beautified by the two grown trees oozing fresh air over a large expanse of land describe the modesty of Harp’s place of living. Greg has stayed at home for three weeks but feels he needs to pay Harp a visit. This is on a Saturday morning at about 9.00AM. Harp’s parents, Mr and Mrs Daniels, are at home to play Greg an august visitor. Greg comes into the house well-rugged, but with just two large-sized seats in the Living Room and a medium-sized dining table, surrounded by four identical foamy chairs to accommodate their siting positions when being served food.

There is a buffet—variety of foods—sizable quantity of prepared rice, prepared chicken flavours and other local and foreign dishes. They can each serve themselves their favourite varieties.

Greg is sited on one of the seats close to the door, watching as Harp and his parents are bringing in from the kitchen, closest to the dining table’s position, cutleries—pairs of fork and knives and fragile plates.

All is finally set…Mr Daniels takes the sitting position of the family head. His wife sits adjacent him while Harp sits opposite. There is an adjacent foamy chair reserved for Greg. Mr. Daniel signals Greg to come over.

Greg joins them… Harp serves himself some spoons of prepared rice, chicken flavours, stew, and juice drink poured into his used jugged-sized cup. Mrs Daniels serves herself the combination of fruit wine—a combination of lemon, water melon, pineapple, and her plate filled with strawberries and mashed potatoes. Mr Daniels is a copy-cat of his wife, when it comes to food preference.

Although Greg is yet to serve himself, Mr. Daniels begins the discussion (his wife and Harp are already eating)

Mr Daniels (Pretends not to know his name at first): What’s your name?

Greg (humbly answers): I go by the names Greg Smith

Mr Daniels: Oh! Are you the one my son talks about whenever he comes to spend the semester at home?

Greg (chuckles mildly): Yes

Mr Daniels: So, you’re that genius at the University of Perth taking everyone by surprise…My son has told me about your exploit—your success and popularity. I’m impressed. So, tell me, what’s your source of inspiration?

Greg: My inspiration has, is and will always….

Mrs Daniels (temporarily stops eating to interrupt the discussion): Mr Daniels, don’t you realize the young man is yet to serve himself. We’ll have more than enough time to interact with him when we’re done eating. Give him a break! He’s going to spend time with us.

(She pose a question to Greg, stares sternly at him) Won’t you?

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Poetry from Mahbub

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Mahbub

Mahbub

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If You Are By Me

 

Nothing impossible if you are by me

I can cross the bar without stinging

I can spread my hands in the wave of ocean

I can float with the stars in the blue sky

I can move to the space overcoming

The danger of earth’s bad environment

I can lie beside you sleep with you

Having always hugs and singing love songs

All my sorrows and sufferings

Jam- packed in heart can be removed

Strewn in the warm sunny day

Under the colourful rim of the space

We can enjoy the earth stretching

I can make a castle of leaves and flowers

Where only inscription of love, we advance.

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Poetry from Christopher Bernard

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Spring Symphony

 

By Christopher Bernard

 

 

Spring:            Oh! Hear my call, oh world, my home!

 

The World:      We hear your call! The traveler’s home!

 

O Spring, rejoice us now!

 

The winter’s brutal winds have gone:

The storm

Has wrecked

Its last

Redoubt.

 

The birds are flying from the south.

They perch gravely on the fence;

Appraising bush and tree, they scout

A place to nest far from the cat

That watches from the windowsill.

 

Through the crust of snow and ice

That kept asleep her summer dream,

Earth’s eyes awake

As the sun perks up the daffodil

And turns the eyes of all to him

Until the universe itself

Beyond even his sovereignty

Breaks into music by a German old

In love with his Clara, his life, his earth

For a season; till

The trees uproot,

And the canyons wake

From their cold trance,

And the bears give birth,

And the mountains dance.

 

Spring:            Now, drunk on joy, let all things dance!

Oh, drunk on joy, let all things dance!

 

The World:      Till tizzygiddygiddydizzyfizzytizzytipsy we be,

All around

We fall down!

 

Spring:            And drunk on joy, now all things dance,

(So drunk on joy, how all things dance!)

 

The World:                 Till everybody

Finds this treasure:

Love, like life,

Is pain and pleasure.

 

Spring:            Drunk on joy, you’re drunk on joy!

 

The World:                 No, you’re drunk

As a love-lorn boy!

 

Spring:                        For Spring is love!

 

The World:                 And love is spring!

 

Spring:                        Dance if you know this!

 

The World:                  (If you don’t know, sing!)

 

Spring:            Drunk on joy, let’s all dance!

 

The World:     Oh drunk on joy, let’s all dance!

 

Spring:                        So drunk on joy –

 

The World:                  Oh, drunk on joy –

 

Still drunk on joy . . . !

 

(Pause.)

 

Spring:            Oh! Hear my call, oh world, my home!

 

The World:      We hear your call! The traveler’s home!

 

All:                  O Spring, rejoice us now!

 

_____

 

Christopher Bernard is author of two book-length collections of poetry, The Rose Shipwreck and Chien Lunatique, and is co-editor and poetry editor for the webzine Caveat Lector. His third novel, Spectres (originally serialized in Synchronized Chaos as “AMOR i KAOS”), will appear later this year, from Regent Press.