“We’re all moving, moving, moving. Isn’t it nice?” ~ Charles Olson
••• The Mad Gallery •••
“Bordering Moorland” (above) by featured artist Eleanor Leonne Bennett. To view all of Eleanor’s works, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery.
••• The Poetry Forum •••
This last week in Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum… we hied the hype of haiku happenstance; we linked to lazy wish manipulation; we powered through to the peak of candy kisses; we stood in a stream of stolid star talk; we stalled adrift, in river, stream and sea (we see); we grabbed our ghosts in depths of Yuletide greetings; we needled twig on branch on trunk, tree eternal, life from loam. We grow, we glean, we grapple with the issues of the Season. Eternal stirs the Swirl! ~ MH Clay
Sound of Trees by Sheighle Birdthistle
I listen to trees.
There are sounds
Living within roots
Knowledge and knowing
Spreading like fingers.
My mortality hit me
As I awaited sleep
I made a prayer…
To see next morning
To see and hear
My tree of choice.
It grows in my garden.
A French tree
That unites me.
To the earth and sky.
I listen, laugh and cry
When my tree whispers.
Poetry allows me freedom
To vent my difference
I hate the chopping down
Of trees, it stills a voice.
A voice that I still crave
It is the call of a universe
I knew long ago
In the land of sighe.
Dancing in circles
Trees gilding silence
Of dance and Druids
As tresses guide the
Fairy longing for life.
Birds come for wisdom
Red squirrel exercises
Sun plays with shadows
As raindrops cry.
The French tree unites
With roots outstretched
To a myriad of forest.
The whispering continues
It transmits to home
It transmits from home
And nourishing earth
With longing, stretching
To the sky in jubilation
At being alive.
December 26, 2015
editors note: When the Day of days is past, this is the tree for all seasons. Yes! – mh clay
Sentimental Snowcapped Romance, Seasonally by Tyler Malone
Winter’s a season to carry in a pocket,
hoping it’s as pretty as remembered.
Holy ghosts of Christmas pasts, futures and presents
wish our world ices under heels.
Some search for angels in snow,
expect gifts they know they’ll love,
or will explain what a life feels like.
Find what’s built, don’t crumble with it.
Grow experiences outlasting heartbeats.
Every night’s holy. Drain glasses, always feel full.
Sing simple carols as loud as favorite swears.
All hallways wear mistletoe as years become old loves.
Be lucky stomachs are as knotted as lights
before kissing, breathing out ghosts goodnight.
December 25, 2015
editors note: An eternal Season’s Greeting from our Short Story Editor (also a poet in his own write) for all who would keep their ghosts alive. (Read two more from Tyler on his page; greetings, for contrast, from a brief season in hell.) – mh clay
Off the shore by Haris Adhikari
The oars are stuck
and so the boat
in this exotic high land
far away from the shore.
But no, no problem!
I’ll see to it, fix it
and go on with
rowing, rowing, rowing
to places unknown
from where I was
or where I am. There, too,
I’ll be off the shore
though far and beyond
I can see, I can see
many a river
and many a sea.
December 24, 2015
editors note: On this, of all eves, wherever we can be, defined by whatever we can see. – mh clay
I Can Hear the Stars by A.J. Huffman
counting me, as if I were something
backwards that would eventually disappear
like morning. They giggle, check me
off their points, a not-too-human to-do list
that doesn’t really need tending,
just attention from a blind(ing) audience
as temporary as dream.
December 23, 2015
editors note: One hell of a lag time; our answers won’t reach them before they’re gone in a flash of nova we’ll never see. – mh clay
Circus love by Elissa Landrigan
On a carousel at dusk
a sticky pink cloud
from a cardboard cone
and I loved your sugar coated words
on your lips
swirls of powered sweetness
round and round and round
dizzy with confection love
December 22, 2015
editors note: Add the red suit with that tricked-out sleigh and it’s a candyland of romance for the season. – mh clay
Falling Stars by Noel Negele
I am tired of imagining a life where
I’m the best version of myself
While all the rest are the same
It used to take hold of me for hours
This wonderful reverie
Where I luxuriated in jolly scenarios
Of good loving
Of noble money-making
Giving good speeches
And drinking very little
And snorting even less
But I’m tired of it
I daydream in the night for too long
Until the sun shines a pale glow
Through the autumn clouds
And the rays never seem to reach me
I have some living to do
Some people manage to delay it
With university and all
But that didn’t work out well for me
I am greedy by nature
And terribly lazy
Yesterday I saw a falling star
And I wished I’d see five more
So I have five wishes
Instead of one.
December 21, 2015
editors note: Not lazy! Focused energy; five is better than one. Not lazy at all. – mh clay
HAIKUS by Nicolas Grenier
in the middle of a haiku
on the next page
between minuscule letters
on a white sheet
with a semicolon
sooner or later
my life in poetry
December 20, 2015
editors note: All our random words, strung together, punctuated by life; a period, an exclamation point or a slash. – mh clay
••• Short Stories •••
Need-a-Read? This rowdy tale, “Headbang”, comes to us from writer Gary Hewitt. Here is what Short Story Editor Tyler Malone had to say about it: “Sometimes, what we want the most is bigger than us. It’s timeless. It’ll eat us whole and leave piles of bones behind after it drags us for miles and allows us to limp away as we praise grace.”
Here’s a few slaps to wake ya’ up:
The jukebox dared to play New Moon.
“Charlie, who put this on?”
“Weren’t me, it’s one of those tossers over there,” shrugged Charlie.
Tony cast a fury glance at Soulboy, Dollop, who wore his muscles under his belly and Library Lad.
“They come in our pub and stick their crap on, it ain’t right is it, Sid?”
Sid followed Tony’s gaze. Soulboy was trying his best to ignore the unwarranted hostility.
“You behave yourselves. Any trouble, you’re barred.”
Tony shook his head. He liked Buster yet the landlord worried too much.
“I ain’t gonna ‘ave a pop. I don’t like it though when mugs swan in here and think they own the place.”
Dollop dared to glare at Tony.
“Is he staring me out?”
“Come on, mate, let’s just have a couple of jars.”
“All right, but I ain’t happy.”
“You got a problem?” said Dollop.
The adipose drinker moved towards the bar. Tony grabbed the neck of his bottle. He’d used the strategy enough times in the past.
“Why do you keep slagging off our music?”
Dollop’s words were too much…
Get the rest of your raucous read on right here!
••• Mad Swirl Open Mic •••
Join Mad Swirl & Swirve the 1st Wednesday of January (aka 01.06.16) as we kick things off for the NEW year at our NEW Open Mic home, The Underpass Bar (located at 650 Exposition Ave in Dallas). If you haven’t experienced the poetic prowess of Jolee, you’re in for quite the movin’ set. If you have seen Jolee, you know this will be quite the show!
Come on out, one & all. Get a brainful of Swirve, share in our open mic madness! If the spirit is movin’ ya, get yourself a spot on our list. Come to be a part of this collective creative love child we affectionately call Mad Swirl. Come to participate. Come to appreciate. Come to swirl-a-brate the new year of open mic madness!
P.S. If you can’t be here LIVE, you can view the whole show via our Mad Swirl UStream Channel! Just click here at 8:00pm (CST) and watch the mic madness swirlin’ live.
The whole Mad Swirl of everything to come keeps on keepin’ on… now… now… NOW! Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year, every decade, every every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the mad conversations going on in Mad Swirl’s World? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We’ll be here…
Short Story Editor