Featured Poems

I want myself back, my crescent moon

by on October 22, 2016 :: 0 comments

My crescent moon, I was like you
Many, many years ago — idyllic, and free
Of dirty treads, of wounds and pain.
You’d beam bright upon my being
When I’d be down in disturbed liquors,
Pull me closer to you, my crescent moon, you’d
Create havoc in hell and heaven,
Calm me down, my crescent moon, you’d
Wake my soul up from extreme exhaustion
And I’d see you riding on dinosaurs,
Up and high in spirit to win the world,
My true warrior, you’d show myself
Calm and compassionate in the beasts’ eyes;
Oh! I want myself back, my crescent moon.

editors note:

Yes! Bring back the days when the Man in the Moon was you! – mh clay

Math, you, and I

by on October 21, 2016 :: 0 comments

If all the world was a pie chart and all the people
merely percentages of a greater whole number
then you would be a three-dimensional, fuchsia-colored slice
And if life just consisted of sterile integers and barren digits

you would be the picture worth a 1000 pixels squared
I would be the nervous wreck of a train going 90 mph
barreling for nowhere in particular, too soon, too fast
Because some equations never change

no matter how many times you divide and multiply
Divide and multiply, divide — oh you get the point
If the value of you is me to the infinite power
then the value of me is x times the square root of your love

I told you once you were my favorite digit
I lied, you are my favorite improper fraction
so very top-heavy, and by that I mean brain-wise
Compared to your numbers, I am wanting

When simplified, our least common denominator is 1
before you I wasn’t even a prime number
wasn’t worth a notch on the number line before or after 0
I was a textbook manic, a black splotch of a decimal

introducing a most resplendent series of 9’s
And you solved every one of my word problems in short form
But if I could be less than binary with you for a minute
more transparent, and screw the math altogether

I’d tell you that no amount of factors or multiples
will ever lead me too far away from you
Because our differences plus the ratio of your 2 lips to my 2 lips
are the sort of statistics dreams are made of

editors note:

Love in (rational) numbers. (We welcome Samantha to our creative congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Two flowers

by on October 20, 2016 :: 0 comments

Two friends, two days,
Two ways, two lives.
Too late to be like two flowers.

Things were said,
Said was thrown,
Hurt was gifted.
Too late to be like two flowers.

Two friends, one day
One way, one life
To become two flowers.

Fallen leaves,
Dried out roots,
Trampled under dirty boots.
Too late for two flowers.

– Sakazaf

editors note:

Indifference? Betrayal? How fragile our bonds can be… like these two flowers. – mh clay


by on October 19, 2016 :: 0 comments

The weight of grass is heavy
Upon my shoulders; lift it,

Scythe is, mow it, let the cattle
Feed that I may walk again.

I sit upon a log in the shade
Of Wood. I sip mate.

I visit Buenos Aires and lie
In bed all day and watch cartoons.

I just want to sleep in
One Saturday, One Monday.

I want the Field Crossers
To stop trampling the grass,

To stop walking across my back
When they think I am napping:

Don’t they know the padlock turns
Are all numbered and recorded?

Editor, Advisor, stop planting corn
When I want my fields clovered.

I want again my daily strolls
In the quiet of Wood,

To watch for hours the bumblebees work
And lock eyes with the mockingbird.

editors note:

Clover over corn? Yes! (This poem is a fine one of the mad many included in Stephen’s new collection, A Ranch Bordering the Salty River, published by Finishing Line Press. Get it here.) – mh clay


by on October 18, 2016 :: 0 comments

above the mainly positive is known
so let there be discussions and the Name
proponents of the member language shown
before the circle turns around again

consensus joins to vet the written word
the advocates speak in a language plain
but opposition makes it seem absurd
and still Vienna begs to be explained

the doctrine of the standard proposit:
to add it up you must include your toes
it’s rational as long as it has Wit-
tggenstein assume an a priori pose

epistemology is well and good
but what is what if you’re misunderstood?

editors note:

Yes, precisely… What? (Read another of satnrose’s mad rants on his page; fear, assuaged in beer. – check it out.) mh clay


by on October 18, 2016 :: 0 comments

The dust I have acquired over the years
has hid my eyes from all that is before me
And I rust, disappear a little from your memory
Your vision
It has been a slow ride
And now the hills have turned their back
And I am not exactly sad
Or happy, I can’t see very well.

– Goirick Brahmachari

editors note:

No definition, no disappointment. – mh clay

Not Forgotten

by on October 17, 2016 :: 0 comments

So it starts
With a star explosion

Giving light to billions
Giving life in the form of minions

The architects with blood of Prometheus
Crafters of stars and protectors of the origin of light

All things are already learned
They just learn them again for cosmic kicks

Learning that they are their own creation
For that moment of salvation

Sun born galaxies rise and are left in their wake
Leaving the sparks of their imagination to light the night sky

Limits are set
But are not real

We believe what we perceive
Boundaries placed by what we can see

The Galaxies surround us unseen
Eyes closed by the infinity of space

They do not see, there is no limit
Above the horizon of their night sky

Where dreams are formed
And new realities born

Who am I?
What is this?

Do I belong?
Have I longing?

Who ignited so many stars?
And why do I see only a glimpse of their life span?

What we are
They once were

Lost to be found
With only questions

Hold them still without answer
Invite light not words, ignite stars not wars

Some questions serve better unanswered
But not forgotten

Left in the presence of being
With their own destiny to fulfill

– Bob Burke

editors note:

Learn to leap limits as luminaries for long-lost lookers. – mh clay