Issue  -  2009  IV

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Set Me Free

Valley to Valley

Mountains to climb

Sinful sorrows

Can only be mine

The search for happiness

Calls for a journey too long

The path's not strong

But I'm holding on

I see the scars that you have left me

I have no fondness of you in my memory

You were unkind and cruel

You never followed the rules

Playing your games were always hurtful

Being tied down you called me ungrateful

The comparisons were too strong

Because expectations were dragged on

You still have that hold on me

And it's about time you set me free

Monette James

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Dmitri Peskov

Another Week

We fill the days

With bits and pieces

Of old memories. With nieces

And nephews whom we scold a little

For being young and non-committal.

The papers bring the same old news

Of some political excuse

For buying this and bombing that....

It's all so trite and very sad.

Dmitri Peskov

The poet reports:  I have been writing poetry since high school, but the transition from a mere hobby to a necessary activity has been gradual.   I write mostly in Russian without much hope of reaching an audience; I also write in English.

I left Russia at age thirteen and lived and studied in many countries before settling in the United States. I hold a Master's Degree in French Literature but work primarily as a modern dancer and choreographer in Chicago.

I am currently thirty-five years old.

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Once A Daydream

once a daydream collected
on my soul and I kissed
its breath so much it blew
gently away
it had pleasure from
my attention and called
on other daydreams
to join in the web of
salted yawning I
promised to provide

once a winter storm
crashed into my roof
and I applauded it so strongly
it continued to devastate
the house
engulfing every shadow
that crept quietly
behind the walls

once a voice trampled
on my daydreams
I asked it to go away
and not be around me
anymore

why are you still here
with me
can't you see that I am lonely?

Chris G. Vaillancourt

Chris G. Vaillancourt has been involved in the art of writing as long as he can remember. Chris is a Canadian poet who has enjoyed publication in numerous small poetry magazines and newsletters,such as Pagan Lady Poetry Journal, The Inkling; The Lance; Opussum Review; Red Dragon; Poesia International; Plum Ruby Review; Windsor Star; Quills, Poetry Sharings, Poesy, Poetry Stop, Detour Memphis,and a host of other print and ezine publications.. He has enjoyed the publication of several chapbooks of his poetry, such titles as "Walking On The Moon" (4 Winds Press) and "teardrop of Coloured Soul" (PublishAmerica) Currently his new book, "I Walk Naked Into A Cloud" is set to be released in the next few months. He has a BA in Psychology from the University of Windsor and a Diploma in Sacerdotal Ministry from the Saint Andrew Theological Institute.

Chris lives in Windsor, Ontario, Canada.

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Morning Prayer

let us sip culture from paper cups

watch deep thoughts rise in ghostly steam

dress ourselves in aroma

go on safari for the meaning of life

in the darkness

of our coffee

gulp down the romance of it all

so when we open our mouths

only love will tumble out

Shannon Marie Kortbek

The poet reports:  grew up in po-dunk town north of Sacramento, California which locals refer to as "woodpile."  I wrote my first poetry at age eight; Dr. Seuss might have applauded my efforts of simple ryhmes and silly themes such as rhyming my mother's first name, "Pam" notions as she was obsessed with "spam."  I now compete in poetry slams occasionally and enjoy writing of all types.  Professionally I am a sign language interpreter currently living with my husband in Orlando, Florida.

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Santiago del Dardano Turann

MOON OVER THE NIGHT TIME PACIFIC

Moon Over the Night Time Pacific

The moon bathes in

The ocean mist

And drips a hazy

Cool light onto

The water that

Finger paints it

Into waves.

Santiago del Dardano Turann

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                                           Santiago del Dardano Turann

The poet reports:  I was born in April of 1968 in Cincinnati , Ohio , and grew-up in rural Butler county.  After a period of wandering I settled in San Francisco , California .  I have worked blue collar or retail jobs my whole adult life and do not have a college degree.  I began to write poetry in 2006. 

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Terry Miller

The Blue Bird's Song

this morning
I heard
 
the blue bird's
song

and believed it

Terry Miller

 

 
Terry Miller is a published and award winning poet from Fort Bend County, Texas.  His work has been published in Sol Magazine and other Texas publications.  He is a member of the Gulf Coast Poets Society and is the founder of the Fort Bend Poets Group.

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Musee du Louvre

Bygone hollow moments fading hours

Embedded forgotten promises left unmade

Countless years spent wandering through

Deserted camel martyrdom humpbacked dunes

Buried treasure broken trunkless legs

Once almighty empires inevitably decline

Transient power resifted breezy icons

Overshadow bareness nothing permanent remains

Verboten statues lurking atop pedestals

Cyclopian stonecutter laser beam gaze

Iron ribbed muscles throbbing urges

Twisted torsos seeking peaceful solitude

Aphrodite of Milos disappearing plinth

Original inscription defaced blank slate

Sand pillars stretching beyond horizon

Opaque lapis lazuli wasteland traces

Headless Nike Victory of Samothrace

Shy ripped forelimbs folded prayerfully

Practicing flight on borrowed wings

Sharp arrowy tips tail-feathers windswept

Decade shrinking ancient history adrift

Brazen giant reborn new colossus

Sacred olive wreath crowning glory

Halo set atop sweaty brow

                                            No Holds Bard Charles Frederickson