The Painter’s Mantle
The Painter’s Mantle By Nayanathara Whenever I get time, I do pen a few lines of poetry or don the painter’s mantle, Not a mere hobby or an idle woman’s pastime – But an exploration of my long-lost identity, an honest expression of my thoughts, an aesthetic unravelling of my past, present and future. Quite often, I do spend a considerable time pondering over my life’s incorrigible patterns – Its sudden undulations, its sloppy curves, mountainous terrains, gargantuan crevices and gorges, its stupendous waterfalls… After having thought long and hard, I finally wield my long, broad brush and palette of cool, placid colours. In a span of few hours, a painting ...
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January 21, 2010Pathetic Sympathy
Pathetic Sympathy By Marc Jan There is a symphony renowned in the world for being candid and in complete cadence, known as La symphony du Soleil - Orchestra of a loosely known truth, of loosely lucid use. The crowds hail it as sweet, seemingly oblivious to any flaw it may have, segued unto the smooth outlines of life - a paper sail-boat navigating the imagination of description itself, blown by desire for beauty. Wrist watches are taken and returned at the entrance; even the slight dissonance of time's tick disrupts the fluidity of music and the colour that permeates from it, creating chaos where there should be only beauty. Delectable elegance, voluptuous reverence, a mind-bending resonance veneering timeless bounds - a ...
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January 21, 2010Fiberglass Dinosaurs
Fiberglass Dinosaurs By Karl Koweski The frozen monstrosities hulk in the Tennessee woods like junkyard Camaros. It’s the prehistoric world as envisioned by Dr. Seuss. red dinosaur blue dinosaur one dinosaur two dinosaurs Fiberglass dinosaurs languish in the mid July heat. Giant toy reptiles consort regardless of Mesozoic period. Deep time is an illusion in the reality of the moment. My family and I stand in the shadow of a forty foot tall Tyrannosaurus Rex shellacked into PBS subjugation. My wife views Dinosaur World as a chance to exercise her legs after a four hour drive. My daughter sees it as another experience to relate to her grade school friends. For me its another wasted fifty dollars, another bead on a vacational string of wasted fifty dollars. My three-year-old son sees a ...
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January 21, 2010Time
Time By Marc Jan I once was told that manifolds held in them a scripture of numbers unlike integers; the kind that slipped beyond fingers like butterflies watched in awe. Their logarithm was diaphanous with variables tending towards infinite cataclysm of organisms - this chaos; it brewed their magic, their life. I forgot who told me this -- the shine of the next day though, I could count. It was weaved in twos, pairs, conjugal proposals of marriage, love, dance and heat. The warmth radiated from the particle- comet showers on my skin, prickling shivers from my fingertips -- why did I let go so easily? Oh, a physicist! That's who told me... But by day three he was ...
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January 21, 2010Words Between Us
Words Between us By Ivana Plucinski Words between us Are not the breathing wind that hides our footprints, Not waves that fall on any shore Nor conquest, nor bitterness of defeats This lexis of intuitive wing Sets course by star In images of coming home And echoes of understanding, The matter of life may weigh heavy In the mass of memory And by inertia or momentum spin Might resist new fields of being, Content with virtual force of wishful influence, Looking into mirrors of time Where orbits of the planets Make ages in the mind. Words between us Fly from the ashes, make new fire New lust for life real energy, Attracted ...
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January 21, 2010Untitled
Untitled By Micaela Gardner I was just a little dot Sat lonesome on a page. I did my job; ended a sentence Earned minimum wage. But when I saw you across the line I knew I'd finally be whole when We two dots came together: We made ourselves a colon. We had our baby daughter: A beautiful little dash. Straight as an arrow yet On occasion a bit rash. Sometimes--not always--she was abrupt And would interrupt and scoff At her absent-minded brother, Ellipses Who'd often trail off... One thing I've learned about good parentheses That endears, organizes, and amazes Is how carefully they tuck them in at night (Their little fragments and phrases). Love is a misplaced comma It trips, you, up, like this And causes the eternal pauses Before an unsure kiss. There ...
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January 21, 2010Morality: The PseudoPoet
Morality: The PseudoPoet By Marc Jan One night, below a starry fright a whimsical poet heartedly writes, fighting his imagination; what might he say? Who may he help? What are his mights? The pathetic altruism he seeks lays under covers - where lovers - protect modern survival. Political theories unwind into poetical satires - The martyr of truth is really just another blasphemous casualty of reality's backwash: the waves of motivation behind human dulcoration. One life means nothing in the wake of genocides, one need, nothing preceding compulsory dandies. That is the poet's truth, for he writes to remain mute.
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January 21, 2010the End, End, End, End, End
the End, End, End, End, End By Jenny Bass the End, End, End, End, End baby we’ll call it an end. glowing embers abandoned into the night. both left in trailing ruins crumbled tattered fraying ends of losing this (waking up in the dark: it’s gone. it’s gone.)
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January 21, 2010Every Minute
Every Minute By Karl Koweski eighty acres of rain forest is destroyed this is a difficult statistic to wrap my mind around considering it took four guys six hours to cut down the elm tree in my front yard
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January 21, 2010Liberty
Liberty By Jenny Bass Liberty wore a US flag as a disguise she fed herself on pigeons and child livers and Fall You people are turning my wonder into cemeteries I never could return to that ship crossing time knowing of a wind gust because I was watching the water now I have become a frozen doom marked only by a tomb stone lullaby How? I plead you to tell me how all of life can lose its value abandon me some burglar rode through my farm throwing a dead crow at me while don’t you see the mountains made me cry because they never leave (I was born on the new moon in Cancer) the ...
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January 21, 2010