Featured Poems

What Does A Vertical Line Form

by on April 29, 2016 :: 0 comments

the morning
is snow white,
only snow.
grass blades
are as dead
as her skin,
converge at the corner
of the nearest road;
other roads
have merged
with the dense forest.
measure me
from the nearest road.
i know,
the distance
remains in the vertex

below snow.

editors note:

The shortest distance between two points is too cold. – mh clay

Haikus 1 & 2

by on April 28, 2016 :: 0 comments

Haiku #1

Thunderous clouds
Flashes of lightning
God taking selfies

Haiku #2

Leaves gossiping
Breeze spreading rumours
Storm in a tea cup

– Shirin Hasrat

editors note:

Then post both to social media (thumbs up, smiley face). – mh clay

Dark fortnight

by on April 27, 2016 :: 0 comments

Spring
Is hindered
In my garden.
Waxed by winter
Freezing so pale.

A furrow…
Did plough
In the ocean of my heart
And the current
An electric shock…

My eyes are blind
Meteor from the heaven
Freezes.
And galaxies not seen
None of the milky ways
move.

It is so dark.
And dark
Where is the light
You took on lease.
Goblet of your dew
Collecting.

In a dark fortnight
How am I to satiate
My thirst…
Without your face.

editors note:

Spring; sprung in slow sips from a light goblet. – mh clay

Feast

by on April 26, 2016 :: 2 comments

The restless thrill of living
blasts into my face
like a funnel drops from an Oklahoma wall cloud
and wind sucks the breath out
of my lungs and thrusts me on my back.

I’m new then as my tired body slips away
like a snake sheds skin
as I see the earth around me.
I thank god or Anybody for the feast before me.
What does one do with this dangling on the edge –
this free fall of wanting to
feed ravenously on the world?
I eat like a wild animal –
devouring warm flesh,
crunching bones and licking fat,
spitting out sinew until
there is nothing left to rot or pilfer
and in the end
I am mindful not to choke
on the enormity
of such a big catch.

– Ursula Barretta

editors note:

Those newest to the feast feed fastest. So much to swallow, so much to taste. – mh clay

Takeoff

by on April 25, 2016 :: 0 comments

Suppose I spelled “LOVE”
On your bare stomach in cocaine
And quoted Lord Byron?
I mean, I don’t have another bump to my name,
And I’ve memorized Byron
Like I’ve memorized the wrinkles on my balls…

But the love is still there, right?

It’s all that we have left,
And we’ll trip our faces off on that stuff
Raving through the night
Until our swirling hearts
Separate like grease and water…

Love for years and years or
Love for three hours, forty minutes, and
A fifth of Bacardi:
I love it all because I love you.
Monday’ll still come,
Even if the flight is cancelled,
And I’ll still take off from
That airport, where blue lights
out the small window, past the wings,
Mean goodbye for now.

– John May

editors note:

An erstwhile philandering Lothario with love in his heart and frequent flyer miles to log. – mh clay

Shall I wait for dawn to come

by on April 24, 2016 :: 0 comments

Shall I wait for dawn to come
And bring his fragrance
To the thoughts dry
Like a jejune land
The night is amarulent
Cacophony penetrates it
I shall close the eyes
Perhaps, tomorrow
There shall be green and water

editors note:

Dry night, dry pages. Bring a wet day, like ink and tears. – mh clay

That Thing You Kicked In The Knees Called Youth

by on April 23, 2016 :: 0 comments

Remember when every prayer you drew
through gritty brown lips sounded like Alleluia
and tasted something like watermelon candy

Remember you were never the brightest of gems
but you shined like a diamond anyhow
Where the light danced off of your facets

Remember your edges felt lovely to bask
in the brilliant commentary of the sun

Remember you had teeth for soul and bone for spirit
and you ran all your relationships through a grater
purely for the thrill of flesh-colored confetti

Remember you were once the frustrated virgin
with a week’s worth of borrowed lunch money

Remember the world was your massively endowed hooker
you raided her Victorian secrets like they were candy
and left gaping holes of red through her fishnets

Never mind the shortcomings and contradictions
life was all about the contractions

Remember being drawn to questions that laid more questions
which in turn mated with question marks
but you often ran out your welcome with the ellipses

Remember the sky was not your ordinary dead end
just another mile marker on your highway

Remember you and the angels engaged in heavy pillow fights
made hammocks out of the cumulus clouds
then played hopscotch over the contrails

Remember in the morning you awoke to the slow swish
of windshield wipers clearing the mist in your head

– Samantha Hawkins

editors note:

When that thing kicks back; don’t dodge it, grab it. Never let go… – mh clay