Featured Poems

Blood of Apostle

by on April 22, 2018 :: 0 comments

On the night
a divided
heaven
light
of the Gods
disappears
in darkness
of time.

editors note:

Dark indeed when the sent ones pass (everyone is somebody’s sent one). – mh clay

Caution

by on April 21, 2018 :: 0 comments

You cannot look at the flowers.
The sunrise is off limits.
The list will grow tomorrow.

The mask you wear is no longer sufficient.
Blinders and a gag must be fashioned to fit.
Sit on your hands and talk to no one.

Pretend you do not exist.
The rest of us will do the same,
Pretending you are not there

Until you take the hint,
and disappear.
Hurry up. We’re waiting.

editors note:

Even when not intended, to ignore is to dismiss. – mh clay

River Ride

by on April 20, 2018 :: 0 comments

Something about your river obscures fiefdom –
Did you hear ensconced stories dangling their feet,
immersed? Careful with caressing flicks!
Did you think clouds were consoling
when you held the cold arms of your sobbing soul?

Forget the hokey castle, some games were phoney narratives
— Looks like your omens were tipsy last night
Would you rather ask the solitary maple
— How long till my blood turns blue?

Something about your afternoon bare and intrepid
waits for a boat…
a firefly
a destiny untouched
— I can swim with your shoals, hunts and sojourns.
Just dress me up in those fins you collected from the fair.

– Shaan Bagchi

editors note:

Fancy your fates as you float to the fair; blood blues, fins, or destiny untouched. – mh clay

Setting Sail

by on April 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

Between aft and bow
the foam of wrath
swells to soar
hurl and rush and
heave against the winds
their volumes of vengeance

“How dare you set sail
On my domain
Allotted me before I was named

All mine
the mighty rolls
whale songs of deep and dark
dives to cast you swaying
winds that gasp
sea gulls’ screams
my power to leave you bent
with obeisance

I am the rage of life
Swooping, crashing
into broken pieces
thrashing, gathering,
swelling into knotted coils
rolling in and over
the shivery earth and its quaking creatures

Mine, the bone and brunt of corals
currents that swell
and shrink
with the dance of life

Mine,
the blood thirst of sharks
The scales and fins
knifing through my bulk
of wet and salt

Mine first and given you
the water from my coral veins
And the moon-driven stare
of being
reflected on the dark waters of night.”

editors note:

When you set sail, would you see swells in the swell sea? Respect… – mh clay

You Stop in to Buy a Donut & I Tell You Everything

by on April 18, 2018 :: 0 comments

This was an asylum
For the criminally
Insane (The innocently insane
Had been collected
Elsewhere) and when we first
Broke in, the last
Mad man
was still chained
To the back wall;
Well, not the last mad man
Per se, but his pajama-clad bones,
Some of them.

We put up
Drywall, we built
Shelves, we hosed down the
Concrete floors and advertised
Incredible sales with
Handmade posters taped
To the cinderblock façade
We waited in our bright aprons
For the eager shoppers
Who in the end could not
Find their way to our
Fabulous bargains through the
Tractless swamp. Only the
Ghosts of the long dead lunatics
Drifted down the aisles and
(Perhaps out of pity)
Purchased a can of black
Eyed peas or a box of
Bisquick before returning
To wander out back
By the dumpster, which
Was already sinking
Slowly into the bog a week
After we’d paid the waste
Removal company to slide it
Into place. Now we are only open
For an hour a week, otherwise
The doors are chained &
We sit here in the dark
Waiting for someone in search
Of supplies to stop by.

editors note:

The candid concerns of a “going concern,” apparently not going anywhere. – mh clay

Are they men?

by on April 17, 2018 :: 0 comments

Happy.
Hopeful.
Playing hopscotch.
Giggles galore.

Broken.
Bleeding.
Shamed.
Bruised, black n blue.

A wail silenced.
A breath snuffed.
A hope killed.
Humanity disgraced.

Red spilled on the horizon,
Shame smeared their souls;
An excruciating pain plundered…
Deafening shouts shook the earth.

But those men celebrated their loot,
Their masculinity forced on innocents;
Are they really men?
Because God made men as saviours,
Not to damage and violate.

editors note:

No better words than this poet’s own: The recent rape cases in India have disturbed me. For all the little children around the world and grown ups who have gone through the ordeal, or of any kind of abuse. This message is for the aggressors to do a rethink. – mh clay

‘From a moment in the still Spanish air…’

by on April 16, 2018 :: 0 comments

Just…
(after: the cooking of eggs)
– After Velazquez, 1599-1660

She acts to create
Just something to eat
So every day the human eye
Cannot acknowledge –
The eggs; as an assistant
Seek the immediate reaction
Her sage eyes know just when.
Then, see his youthful distracted
eyes – on some young woman –
his game? Or some masculine
game to win…
distracted in sin – to be committed
still seeing this alchemy
the magic of this egg
becoming something else
this Assumption will pass
by and large, unnoticed.

editors note:

For her, the eggs; for him, the code. One will crack, the other will crumble. (This bit o’ ekphrasis inspired by this picture here.) – mh clay