po·et·ry (poetre), Noun: Literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings
and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; A quality of beauty and intensity of emotion
regarded as characteristic of poems: "poetry and fire are nicely balanced in the music".
Times Square by Jordan Elizabeth Mierek
I was beckoned across the path,
The hand I saw with fingers coiled,
And the breath of a thousand whispers.
My footsteps resounded with the others,
Past and present,
The future of Times Square.
Ghosts mingled with the people,
Voices jumbled,
Languages and colors.
The air thrummed,
The land throbbed,
And a song played through the electric lights.
I can stand still and the world will blur by,
Yet even if I close my eyes,
When I open them I will still be there,
Lost in a sea of faces and heritages,
The world coming together as one.
Even if I stand still for a century or more,
The hubbub will still thrive,
And the laughter will still rise.
The memories will watch,
Through faces crystalline,
The sound of carriages fading into traffic,
Cars and horns,
Electric lights replacing the flickering of candles.
There is a song that is sung,
And it plays through the ages,
Dancing off the faceless lips,
Of those who walk the pathways.
It tantalizes at our fingertips,
Boils the blood and stirs the heart,
Excites the spirit and ignites the soul,
This tempest of a city,
That stirs with this song,
And a beckoning hand.
It is a mystery of secrets,
Lost in a web of magic.
I breathe the words that flow with them,
People I will never know,
But we are all connected,
By the same weaving song,
A song with a heartbeat,
That vibrates throughout the city.
I'm going to sing a song of a thousand voices,
And in it we are all the same,
And you'll never hear the world whisper against,
Because we all stand together again,
The song that is sung in every heart.
© 2012, Jordan Elizabeth Mierek
____________________
Myriads of gleaming candle lights
In a spacious darkness
A blackness that is repeated
With an incessant diverging of fervent colors
A mirage of perpetual eruptions of inner mind
An eminent ecstasy of emerging eternity!
Elusive clusters of embalmed darkness
A jovial monstrous epoch of non-existence
The alluring masked death of unknown silence
That plays a delusive golden music
A life of death extending with no limits in all dimensions
That illumines experience of celestial captivation
The nonentity of past, present, and future
Unceasing manifestations of nebulous visions
The dilemma of oblivion in the loneliness of life
Reaching animate death of never ending time!
King of life and light! King of death and darkness!
Forever alone, apart from all things
The heart of envision
Space, the infinite ecstasy!!
© 2012, Juliette Beswick Pokletar
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The Infinite Ecstasy by Juliette Beswick Pokletar
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A Spy At Home by Joseph M. Rinaldo
Synopsis: Garrison's story begins when he retires from the CIA. In retirement Garrison shares the pain he inflicted on his family during his life abroad. Noah, Garrison's adult son with Down syndrome, a form of mental retardation, doesn't trust dad when he returns home. Experience has taught Noah that dad always leaves again. Over time they grow closer. Louisa, Garrison's wife, gradually accepts her husband back; however, accepting him as her husband and trusting him with her child present two separate obstacles. Tragedy strikes, and Louisa dies. Garrison becomes solely responsible for Noah, who has developed Alzheimer's, common in aging people with Down syndrome. This disease tears at Garrison's heart. Noah ceases to be himself and relives a life his dad knew nothing about. Can be order from Amazon.com
Fire in the Pilbara By Joan Margaret
Synopsis: When undercover cop Geoff Filerman arrives in Broome, he is barely prepared for the reception he receives, let alone the location landed on him from which he must launch his investigations. My destination was the Imperial Hotel and with the first beer trouble loomed. "Hey Sue, is this creep bothering you?" A burly shadow fell across me and hands like graveyard shovels, grabbed me. "You want me to rough him a little?" "Just enough to make him get a job and earn his money Joe. I don't want him bludging off you guys around here." "Oh so he's work shy is he? Well you'll be happy to know that Nungeri Downs is lookin for men and need 'em today." I shook my head in disbelief. Sue had established my credentials, butchered my character and got me a job before I had finished my first drink. To add to the humiliation, after sculling the beer on an empty. To order or locate nearest Bookstore, please ring Australia 03, 57682405 and Amazon.com.
The men came in the early morn as I lay in my bed
They took my son and handcuffed him. They battered his poor head
They threw him in a prison van and then they drove away.
The only thing that I could do was kneel then hoping, pray.
So many of the young men from families far and near
Are taken from their loved ones and simply disappear
And many after torture as in their cells they lie
Are totally abandoned and simply left to die.
My son was missing many months. I found it hard to cope
I kneeled beside his bedside and weeping prayed with hope.
I hoped they would be merciful and would not harm my boy
And soon they would release him to my eternal joy.
There's been a revolution. They're dancing in the street.
The tyrant has been overthrown, The victory complete
They said they'd found survivors but they are sick and weak
It would be hard to learn their names as many cannot speak.
For many weeks I searched for him in hope that he would be
Alive and being cared for in a nearby sanctuary
And then at last I heard the news. He'd been identified
My joy was so unbounded I laughed and prayed and cried.
But when I went to see him they warned me I should be
Prepared to face the outcome of his captor's cruelty.
He'd suffered dreadful torture because he'd not betray
His friends and their involvement, so they could get away.
They'd broken both his kneecaps. He could no longer walk
They'd cut of all his fingers to try to make him talk
The tortures they inflicted too horrible to tell
Had left him lying in a state of agony and hell.
I hoped that with my nursing I could help him through the pain
But though I've nursed him many months His agonies remain.
I hear him in his torment and ask the dear Lord why
He lets my poor son suffer. I hope that he may die.
One other thing I hope for. That very soon we'd see
The freedom loving Nations wipe out all tyranny
So everywhere throughout the world true justice will be done
I hope it for all people especially my son.
Pandora's Box stands open. All evil spread around.
But in its darkest corner the seed of hope is found.
Let everyone throughout the world in sympathy unite
To take that little seed of hope and show it to the light.
© 2012, John Ernest Giffard
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Pandora's Box by John Ernest Giffard
That Cezanne Girl by Joseph Grant
You wander alone in anger along your recent ancient past
Castigating those now for a love that was never meant to last
I wonder what crime was it that I did commit unto you
Other than be human and treat you the way none others do.
It's all in your face and those forever stunning eyes
That you could never tell my inner truth from his outside lies
You covet your blanket of insecurity, don't know who to be
While stoned in your indecision wandering down your wrong way street.
There were no strings attached, no, no, no, nothing like that
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, if you stand inside the pain
Just wanted to see you smile sometime in the shadow of your sun
I chose to offer you freedom, but never thought that you'd run
All the time we've wasted is time worthlessly spent,
We've talked many a mile in my boots but you've never left
Someday I'd love to see the look upon your pretty face
When you finally realize, you ended up back in the same place.
You were my newest religion, I, your latest cross to bare
Forgive me his sins; shake the halo from your hair
To his hell you are forever bound
The resurrection has come and gone and fled to the next town.
Nobody's winning here, nobody's uppin' his worth.
You may think you're on a higher plain but you ain't leaving this earth
You ain't hungry no more cos you ain't never been fed
I guess I'll go on home now and go back to my own bed.
There are no stormy seas to prevail, no white capped waves a' gale.
You've abandoned your freedom ship before you set sail.
You are no longer mine, so I am not yours to do with as you see fit
Don't blame every guy cos you once believed someone else's bullshit
I was there to help, but you've got no more white flags to wave
For our love is no longer sleeping now but in its grave.
I think what you need is to take up and go back home to your mama
Married now to your issues and you can't divorce from the drama.
Love is a museum for you to visit but never stay
All your portraits of pain are hung the wrong way
But the galleries have all closed, the sculpture's already been cast
You should never roam your future while stuck in your past.
So, you'd better leave now, forget those who've bled for you
Chase down your shadow to solitude; I'm done playing your fool
You've done your time, said your lines,
You are now free to break other hearts than mine.
© 2012, Joseph Grant
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Holding True: Essays on Being a Writer By Susan Ioannou
Synopsis: As a writer, if you thrive on encouragement, this book is for you. From three decades of editing, teaching, and writing fiction and poetry, Ioannou knows well the thorns and honey of the literary life. "When we write, we are up against the wall. Who am I? What do I feel? What do I think? Writing forces us to be alone with our thoughts, to work through the wrinkles of our own living." At the same time, when the lines are flowing, there is no greater high-what keeps a writer addicted. These pages bring ample light and balm, support and inspiration. What's more, there's laughter too, as fable and satire poke gentle fun at foibles and absurdities on the literary scene, and remind all writers of the importance of holding true. Can be order from Amazon.com
Umbra By Eric Basso
Synopsis: After completing his first collection of poems, Accidental Monsters, in six months, Eric Basso immediately began Umbra, which he finished on the eve of his thirtieth birthday. It is a poet's giant notebook, a laboratory for almost daily experiment with form and image. Many of the poems here read as extended haiku, others record fleeting visions, fluctuating states of mind, dwarfed mysteries of intrigue and sudden loss, brief comedies, or simply moments of heightened perception, all fixed like flies in amber. In this early collection, Basso unabashedly offers the reader poems written without a net. For anyone who wishes to look behind the curtain, Umbra is an indispensable document. Can be order from Amazon.com
Mammoth Cottonwood outside Mabel's window,
tell me, please, whisper what you've seen.
The joys and sorrows, the plans-bent and straight, the promises-kept and shattered,
the lover's bitter sweet pain, swept away, alive and dead,
folded, compressed in time, to this second, 300 years brings tears to my eyes.
I arrive mid-summer, July has nearly rotted out,
To see you and all your brothers and sisters suffering,
stressed by fires, drought, and time.
Yet over the Pueblo you stand unmoved, unperturbed, a little taller,
a sentry tower, knowing, watching, silent, keeping.
Each year for the last three I've come
to this sacred place to study and dream.
All of me aches to share this heaven,
this magic with another on a journey as noble,
to share with someone, the one with the angle's heart of fire, the writer's soul.
Lonely, searching, I walk to you, greeting, paying respect, then asking you,
reaching as for my unknown lover's face,
my hand gingerly on your grey-brown crust, overgrown and gnarled.
And I listen, listen through my skin, through your skin, to your beating heart,
I listen for the thrum, the life inside, begging, dying to feel half the peace I know you do.
We merge, you welcome, exchange silent heartfelt hello's.
You see me bring my wounded heart here once again,
willing to crack, and feel, to open and yield,
ready to cry and scream and come undone,
or laugh with the coyotes at my twisted fate.
You were watching, Cottonwood, when I forgot you were, you heard my prayer
past midnight as I lay upstairs in my bed, naked and alone,
run through by the pain of a love I feared would never come.
At that moment, through open windows poured,
With the same sweet breeze that kissed your leaves as caressed my core--
--you breathed the promise of a love delivered.
© 2012, Scott Lutz
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Cottonwood by Scott Lutz
Until He Came by Elaine Rosenberg Miller
Until he came, it was a world divided
And walls shot up.
Rising out of the ground like tombstones.
Askew, errant, graying fractured tombstones.
Forgotten markers of long lost lives.
Dividing the living.
Black.
White.
White.
Black.
Separate and unequal.
One denied protection under the law.
The other acquiescing.
Then he came.
He, with his soft, cherubic face.
Determined sloe eyes.
Velvety, ebony eyes.
His lingering, languid, words hung on long after he departed, like some sweet, intoxicating perfume.
He marched.
In his well-cut suit.
He crossed the bridge, arm and arm with the awakening multitudes.
Young, old, women, men.
They would no longer sit silent.
They followed his rhythmic, constant, poetic voice.
A lullaby of reason. Right. Humanism.
They marched.
Year after year.
He spoke and the heavens listened.
The heavens listened.
And he was answered.
The nation, the world, turned and saw his vision.
He came.
He was ours.
Then his message, his words spoke for him.
And we are his children, his gifts.
© 2012, Elaine Rosenberg Miller
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The Eloquence of Desire by Amanda Williams
Synopsis:Set in the mid to late 70s, Ticket to Ride is an epic tale of two people coming-of-age in the wake of a world transformed by the currents of social, political and philosophical upheaval that began in the 60s. Ten The Eloquence of Desire is set in the 1950s in Colonial Malaya, and the UK. Amanda Sington-Williams delves into the minds of George, his wife Dorothy and their twelve year old daughter, Susan. Their relationships are turned upside down when Dorothy discovers George's affair with his boss's daughter. George and Dorothy are sent to Malaya while Susan goes to boarding school. Still ruled by Britain, Malaya is in the throes of the Emergency. The intense tropical heat and her fear of the civil unrest turns Dorothy into a recluse. George embarks on another affair. He and his new lover befriend a Malay boy and his family who live in a kampong in the jungle. But the villagers are supporting the insurgents and it is Susan, over from England, who finds her father and lover in the kampong after an attack by Chinese Communists. It is only after this event that she discovers the truth about her parent's relationship and her psychological disturbance eventually forces her to see a psychiatrist in London. Richly descriptive and well researched; The Eloquence of Desire is a page turner where obsessive love, the terror of war and the lost innocence of childhood are explored. Can be order from Amazon.com and from the publisher, sparklingbooks.com
BFF and the Secret Santa By Amanda Lawrence Auverigne
Synopsis: It's the last week of classes at university, and Lydia Foster is struggling to find happiness. She's lost the love of her life, Lucas Howe, who ended their relationship to be with someone else. Her best friend Amber is having a torrid affair with a professor and Lydia must keep it a secret. Her final exams are extremely stressful and Lydia worries over her grades. On the morning of her last examination, Lydia awakens to discover that her troubles are just beginning. She receives a gift from a friend that may change her life. And save it. Can be order from Amazon.com
We could fall asleep through anything--to avoid reality
Spent time like it was counterfeit-
Not worth a freaking thing.
And the soot that the cab driver
throws into your hands. I've been there.
Have you ever been surprised when you looked at the ocean?
Flicked our cigarettes in the sand
Defying our meaning
Running your fingers through dirty-blonde waves
No, it can't exist--Something big
Something actually important!?
And dreaming!
We - everyone
Sweaty hair caked to hotel beds.
Closed our eyes to pick their peaches.
Fake orchard in the South.
Paradise-you been there?
Did someone say pair o' dice?
I've been there.
Girls in bow ties and skintight velour
Dealing us our separate failures
Smoke in our throats
I've been there.
I am the slot machine-
Disappoint everyone
Just to make a living.
© 2011, Allegra Freund
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Brine by Allegra Freund
On The Road Beyond the Midnight Passion by Matt Panetta
On the road beyond the midnight passion,
We anticipate this world of hypnotic mystery.
Have you seen the markings beneath the sun,
Where we embrace together to celebrate our birth?
The rhythm of creation continues to beat,
As we remember the warmth of the promise land.
Now we're consumed by fear and mistrust,
And kill those who have once done the same.
The hunt for survival is now a religion,
And war is our temple of worship.
Still we try to change the repetitive mantra,
But dwell a cast under Lucifer's wing.
Our essence seems to no longer exist,
The future is an atrocity.
Destiny can be ours to control,
If we reconstruct this eternal damnation.
Look inside your own reflection,
And transform these dreams into an establishment.
Immerse within the pure and divine,
As we enter the glorious city.
© 2011, Matt Panetta
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Dark Poetry of Mine By Tyler W. Stinson
Synopsis: Not for the faint of heart, Dark Poetry is the thoughts, views and passions of people who live in a cold and heartless world. A window on the thoughts of a guilty soul as he encounters violent people and the mentally ill. Dark Poetry of Mine paints a violent and sad world, shows God as the merciless one who condemns you to hell. It is the abyss of one man's soul. Can be order from llumina.com
It's My Divorce Too! By Marina Lombardi
Synopsis: There have been many books written by adult experts about divorce and its impact on children. However, ten year old Marina Lombardi set out to express this impact from a child's perspective after a limb on her family tree broke off. Now, as a young woman six years later, she knows with certainty the importance of sharing her story and letting other kids know that they can prevail in the rough waters of their upbringing. Interviews and ordering information can be accessed HERE.
Subconscious fears abduct our rewards of infancy,
Where innocence lies between the realm of reality and a blissful dream.
All unexplainable mysteries will be answered,
On the night we take ourselves upon the world of the unknown.
Beyond the enchanted gates of love,
She smiles through the breaking clouds,
Which awake us from this ancient dismay;
These years are why the songbird sings beneath the gentle moon.
Who are we of flesh?
Nothing but a breathing magnum.
Take us to the hour of revolution,
Where the divine fulfill premonitions of faithful unity.
Let everything around you ease,
And be focused in your mind;
We'll be guided away from these misfortunes.
Together, living in eternal ecstasy,
We dance around the flame;
Now until forever.
© 2011, Matt Panetta
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Now Until Forever by Matt Panetta
Endless Conception by Matt Panetta
We are born into a world,
Of misleading dreams,
Where we are given opportunities,
To unfold what's beyond recognition.
Not all of us are able,
To discover these ancient scriptures,
But we'll travel far across the years,
Into the dawn of endless conception.
The day is coming,
And I came to you.
Soon enough,
We will join them,
Soon enough,
We'll be free.
Somehow in dances,
Our souls will live again.
We can't change what we have created,
Unless we learn what it is that we've done.
Children,
Stop and look around.
Rewrite the book of sin,
For the night is young.
There is no longer a fear of God,
When the sky is filled with derision.
Death has disappeared;
Are you awake?
© 2011, Matt Panetta