thunder resounds
in the background
like a warning . . .
if I could just say it aloud
it would go away
quiet—
I've always yearned
for silence
on this still night
even the wren's cry is jarring
three days
the canvas remains pristine
untouched, white
nothing to paint or write about
while you are gone
running
to the subway
this autumn morning
our uplifted faces
bathed in rain
when he knew
I drank tea, he brought a box
from each country he traveled
today he loves me
from Shanghai
rain on the beach
a tape from my friend . . .
a small piece
of him in each
tiny drop
© Aurora Antonovic
Aurora Antonovic is a Canadian editor, writer, and visual artist whose work has appeared over four thousand times in publications spanning twelve countries and five continents. She is a recent Pushcart Prize nominee, and haiga editor of Simply Haiku. She is also editor of A Little Archive of Poetry, a publication that seeks to promote the love of verse in all forms. Aurora recently illustrated Marie Lecrivain's chapbook, The Painter, available through Lummox Press -- http://www.lummoxpress.com/newlp.htm
THE PLANT MAN
I drink water to grow.
I bend toward the sun.
My petals are fresh.
I perfume the air.
Some curse turned me into
a plant man. Bees try to
get busy with me
and nasty slugs slime
their way into me and
try to eat me. I must
have done something wrong
to be assigned this curse.
CRUEL LIGHT
Wouldn't you deny
the light in the sky
if it deterred you
from sanity?
I wrap myself
in the thickest veil
I could find because
of that cruel light.
It shines on me
wherever I go.
It is relentless and
devours my thoughts.
Who is in charge of
that light? I don't know
what God has cursed me
and for what means.
I am simple.
I don't seek fame or
acquaintances. I
seek solitude.
But this light is
cruel. It finds me.
I believe this light
wants me to die.
A BIRD SINGS THE BLUES
A bird sings the blues,
perched on a brown branch,
without a slide guitar
strumming along.
A bird sings the blues,
perched on a brown branch.
It pierces through my heart.
I hum its song.
It carries through the wind
into my bedroom window.
It brushes against my sorrow.
It measures my anguish
with its solemn melody.
Why does the bird sing for me?
© Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
West Covina, CA
Let us Compare Books
(For Brother Alaf)
A humble request,
am sure you will agree.
You already have read all that I have,
in your request.
Simply,
climb unto the altar,
as a child pushes a seat to a table to reach its top.
Look through the windows of the soul,
and ask again,
of the essence within,
what do you wish to compare.
Lives need not comparisons,
but the wisdom gleaned, and compassion.
From my elders,
have read so many books,
and continue to read,
not books,
but life.
Your dad's shared views are from a giant.
What does an ant have to contribute,
in beauty, to a Monarch butterfly?
Within your reach,
you have all of the answers.
Civitas Dei
Patimonio de la Humanidad fueron declaradas por la UNESCO las siguientes ciudades.
The following cities were declared by the UNESCO, as Patrimony of Mankind.
Cada jaula universitaria pregona tu audacia,
y tu legado,
has sido una fuente inolvidable de inspiración.
Sin embargo,
toda Espana decoró la visita de un poeta en una manera inolvidable.
Nunca a escondidas,
todo fuiste investigado y hallado en pleno día.
Una de las razones por las
"coincidencias inusitadas" reuniendo a un ilustre Médico internista, Dr. Diosdado,
impresionante é Iluminadora
llegáste a las letras,
España.
Alcalá de Henares,
Cardinal Cisneros may not have been instrumental in your birth,
but planning a "City of God," for the world may well have been his genius.
"Civitas Dei,"
were the first claim made to an,
original model for universities,
conceived in the western world,
amazed, in this writing.
You were the ideal urban community which missionaries brought to the Americas.
Don Quixote’s author,
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra,
one of Spain’s gifted child,
was heaven sent from Alcalá de Henares.
Merci beaucoup!
Ávila,
Its sponsors wrote of you,
between "heaven and the stone" is Ávila.
One of nature’s skyscraper,
she stood one thousand and
twenty seven meters tall, above sea level.
She is one of Spain’s most strategic points.
Advancing a splendorous view over great plains in the north,
and the rocky walls shielding her back in the south.
Your weather,
so Mediterranean on both extremes,
wherein January is your coldest and July, your hottest.
On its axis,
so lay back is our home,
planet earth.
Ancient builders were cognizant of her strategic and alluring position,
and linked four more sisters of Mankind’s Patrimony,
Segovia;
Salamanca;
Toledo
and Cáceres.
Saint Teresa de Jesus took her first breath under your skies,
and San Juan de la Cruz,
patron saint of Spanish speaking writers,
his home Fontiveros,
part of Ávila.
Muchas Gracias!
Cáceres,
Its wonderful concentration of architectural designs,
enchanting
from its inception of prehistoric markers,
to its confluence of cultures
manifested in its architecture
is Cáceres.
An exquisite encounter of cultures,
each fertilizing each other,
leaving behind
a paradisiacal island blend
for today’s visit.
To a poet’s dream,
it’s so sweet and exciting.
© Eduardo A. Cong
San Diego, CA., USA
Bansal
(insaklang kinen Jose Hanibal P. Viloria tan Cherry S. Fernandez; inbalikas nen 14 December 2007 diad risipsiyon na kasal da)
Say abung ag onoogip
abangon ya sanagew
atilek lad dalagurog
saray salin onsabi onalis
Diad sakey ya silir
duaran kamarerwa
ontalabotob onyesaes
mankulyaot san onreen
Sanlabin manomameng
siopa ray imbitaan
ya ag lilinguanan
kanayon ya masingalngal
Ta perwisyo saray arom
‘gapo’y baing dan mankaokolan
balet saray maoyamo
nepeg iran midagop
Diad sayan okasyon natan
pansakeya’y duaran manangaro
ya pirawat day onamong
ya pilalek dan manilalak
Katon miapag ed ligliwa
nen Jay tan Cherry ya sanasawa
manpikasi ya say samba’d altar
igalang da’d andiangga.
Wedding
(dedicated to Jose Hanibal P. Viloria tan Cherry S. Fernandez; delivered on 14 December 2007 during the reception of their wedding)
The house does not sleep
awake all day long
deafened by the clatter
of feet coming and going
In a room
two souls
murmur whisper
shout then silence
All night thinking
whom to invite
not to forget those
relatives malcontent
Headache others are
No shame in demanding
But those modest
Had every right to attend
In this occasion today
two lovers unite
whose desire is to live together
who hanker for children
Thus share in the joy
of spouses Jay and Cherry
pray that oath before the altar
they honor in eternity
© Erwin S. Fernandez
http://theotherdissent.blogspot.com/
Finally, A Year-end Poem
Just before the countdown could begin, the fireworks' smoke
already had the city's lung choking. There in his room upstairs, I saw
my nephew thumbing through the pages of a poetry book. He is
quite geekish at eight; the book, half-wrecked, is two years old.
"Uncle, uncle", he exclaimed. "Don't you have a New Year poem?"
"I have of course, it isn't there" , I quipped.
The year has turned, he kept insisting: "Uncle, uncle, show me one!"
As if a New Year poem is something like a coke-cum-mentos bomb,
or something as spectacular as anti-gravity. But still, any poem
is better than levitation. And so on his palm I wrote the URL of
an old, abandoned blog of mine. "Do a rummage on the archive,
little boy." I tapped his shoulder gently. Alas, after some thundery,
trumpety minutes he came back and showed me a poem he has just
printed, entitled: 'Listen to the King's Dying Words'. "I like this one
uncle, you have such a New Year poem" , he yelled smiling.
I smiled back thinking how in the hell he did get to discern it
and how he learned, at an early age, that a New Year poem
doesn't necessarily have to be written late December, nor January.
© Lolito Go
Lolito Go, 22, is a sexually insecured artist/bum in Olongapo City. He was a former SK Chairman in the city. He ran for barangay councilor and lost because he refused to cut his 3-foot long hair. He has no plans of returning to college. He is an avid fan of Hitchcock, Nietzsche and Ginsberg.
that big white puffball
floating miles above earth
far beyond reach
to be that cloud
free and on my own
this chilly morning
I get up and make tea
two cups on the table
I drink and watch the sunrise
wait for you to wake
(first appeared in Ancient Heart, December 2003)
leaf skitters alone...
in the cold wind and sleet
I run in pursuit
seeking any companion
for my lonely heart
(first appeared in Above Ground Testing, September 2004)
the crickets
sing in one great chorus
an evening song
I sing alone
will no one join me
lovers holding hands
on this warm November day
watching them
I think of you
and our empty hands
© C. W. Hawes
C W Hawes is a human services worker who divides his time between Minneapolis, Minnesota and rural northeast Iowa. His muses are Whitman, Millay, Basho, Issa, the Imagists, Takuboku, and Rumi. He holds a bachelor’s degree in history and political science and a Masters of Divinity degree. His work has appeared in Carnelian, Lynx, Simply Haiku, Lilliput Review, Amaze, Makata, and The Ghazal Page, among others.
Roadmap
brave heart
breakneck speed
world rally
collision course
missing by inches
and seeing red
tempers fly
accident alert
unsure ground
unsure hand
mutually assured
coded roadmap
deadline pressure
lost momentum
stalled engine
the long road
out of Eden
and fuel crisis
mercury rising
great mileage
but no warranty
beyond diplomacy.
Outsider
before him eternity
waxing and waning
of energy, the old man
disabled for the night
shut out of the day
feels like the outsider
as the dark loneliness
drowns him like waves
of wriggling maggots
diminished existence
perpendicular orbit
and wobbly movement
that first day on earth
the long roll call of time
and darkness turns up
overwhelming the dropout
the incorrigible sun
brings him cyclic motion
which the unrelenting passion
dares not acknowledge
life goes on unfolding
like the newspaper
full of representation
of the same human calamity.
© Bishnupada Ray
Bishnupada Ray is a reader in English in North Bengal University. His poems have appeared in Indian Literature, New Quest and Makata. He is the author of three volumes of poetry titled Possibilities, Dark Age and A Place In The Sun.
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