Two Poems by Maddy Mueller

The Lotus Gate

From shared to shattered

is a moment turned Eternity

so I try to make my heart unbreakable

unable to be penetrated

yet, it figures its own escape

So I tell myself

Ah Joy! tis torn' apart 

in layers this time

and re-formed into a lotus clover

for me, this day

thus a vow I make n'ere again

to let Love forsake it

Am I mistaken its innate hiss

and shaking laughter at me?

Mayhap I must close this place

awaiting reconciliation

Mayhap it's a Miracle in the making

Mayhap by now my lotus flower has grown

sharp edges and teeth

like an inviting white picket fence

with a sign on the gate

that says 'Keep Away' 

                 

Once

At one time she sought the crescendo 

of youth's storms

Now she yearns for the flaps of breezes

that kindly carry her part of the way

The bumpy roads

she once squealed over

with every bounce

feeling like an opportunity

to be thrown up in the air

has changed to the need for paths

pacified as by the rhythms of lullabies 

and as smooth and taut as the glide

of a woman's belly with child

Once she excitedly expected the night 

to ignite in fireworks'

vivid sparks that popped open 

an explosion of mums

which now sit beside her

in a still life painting

They've become taller and plumper

than her original memory of them

having turned delicate pastel

as if someone had gently brushed

them and her eyes with soft tissues

reassuring her that once is forever...

Maddy Mueller is from New York City and resides in Northern California. She worked as Assistant Editor for a newspaper syndication publishing company.. Maddy usually self- publishes her poetry collections but has recently branched out to other venues as well. Her inspiration comes from writer/poet Kahlil Gibran and collective unconscious psychotherapist Carl Jung.

Art by Ernest Williamson III

In Her Fashions

Soul of a Mannequin

After the Noon by Ernest Williamson III

in the aloe
I  reside
accosted by the ragweed
next to,
in congruence with,
cackle and  blandness of your bird songs. 
I've overcome the seeds of hate
but where were they?
what lies were in the basalts of my generalities?
if a canker sore fills the bowels of sanguine hurts,
why do I speak?
if a question answers its intent with flaccid way
why do I doubt?
perhaps I'm too adorned in the sunlight.
too
branded and perched,
alone
residing with aloe;
though
a desiccant
is my heart;
for you are far from the streams.

Dr. Ernest Williamson III has published poetry and visual art in over 500 national and international online and print journals. Professor Williamson has published poetry in journals such as The Oklahoma Review, Review Americana: A Creative Writing Journal, and The Copperfield Review. Some of his visual artwork has appeared in journals such as The Columbia Review, The GW Review, and Fiction Fix. Many of his works have been published in journals representing over 50 colleges and universities around the world. Dr. Williamson is an Assistant Professor of English at Allen University and his poetry has been nominated three times for the Best of the Net Anthology. Williamson holds a B.A. and an M.A. in English/Creative Writing/Literature from the University of Memphis and a PhD in Higher Education Leadership from Seton Hall University.

Garden of Eden by Peggy Carter

The sun was hot that day – 
boiling out of a blue sky; no clouds survived

But we did.

I don’t even remember how we got there –
the open field, so isolated – 
a beautiful view, not that we saw it – 
a few trees as witness – 
endless grass – 
and the mountains, crisp and clear, for backdrop – 

His blue eyes weren’t the only thing to pierce me – 
a handful of flesh on the grass – 

I heard the voices of other lovers, past and future – 

That eden was ours.

As the sun burned through, we were branded – 

Peggy Carter came late in her life to poetry. She started writing in her early 60's and has been consumed with it ever since. Peggy has taken one college class in poetry. She's been taught by Brendan Constantine and Tresha Faye Haefner. Tobi Cogswell has also been influential. Peggy's had the good fortune to have been published in the Bellowing Ark, Decanto, The Stray Branch and Red Fez. She published a chapbook, Reach, in 2013.  

             

Two Poems by Ricki Mandeville

What Endures

 

The notions of trees when seasons turn, 

as even now, at half past fall, the sycamores 

have curled their leaves like old men’s hands. 

And the stubbornness of stars, though stars have 

always seemed too haughty with their faint, cold light. 

And wind—eternal mad sculptor—whisking crumbs

of pyramids across oceans, powdering

them against stark cliffs, blind skyscrapers. 

 

Does the soil in my garden hold a memory 

of roots, of rain, as I crumble it in my palm?

Trees, stars, mad wind, black earth all endure. 

And what of love; does it?  Even when 

the heartless wind empties my hands of it, 

does a bit of it remain—a taste, a trace?

 

 

Rains

 

At 5 a.m. rain wakes me, boughs outside

the window going wild in northwest wind: 

gnarled horses galloping crazily in place

while you twitch and murmur in dregs of sleep.

In an hour, the wind will lift my hair, trail it

like yellow paint across the sullen canvas sky. 

You’ll drag your hands through the damp wilds of it,  

weave it through your knuckles, hold it like pale rags 

next to my face, press your thumbs to my cheekbones, 

say everything but goodbye & my eyes will leak

rain enough to drown every poem I’ve written.

I will clench my teeth against the wind 

and watch your jacket, darkened at the shoulders, 

disappearing down the pot-holed road. 

 

Ricki Mandeville is an editor, poet and dreamer fortunate enough to live near the ocean in Huntington Beach, California, where, on the best days, the tide washes up a love sonnet which she has no choice but to write. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, San Pedro River Review, Pea River Journal and many other publications.

Interview w/ Poet Marianne Szlyk

1. Who or what inspired you to write poetry?

I’ve lived in a number of places where local identity is important (or used to be important): New England, Oregon, Indiana, one beautiful and terrible year in NYC, and even Washington, DC, as its poetry scene flourishes within the cracks of this city of transients.  When I was growing up in New England, I spent time in both the country and the city, so both places inspire me.  Music has always been important to me although the type of music I listen to has certainly changed over the years.  I have also come to terms with the fact that I am more interested in character and setting than in plot, so poetry is more natural to me than fiction would be.  Also, it is very hard for me to make terrible things happen to my characters.  In any case, I am enjoying poetry this time around.  I have worked with inspiring teachers (Reuben Jackson and Chris Goodrich), and the poetry communities online and off have been quite hospitable.   Dr. Michael Anthony Ingram and the D.C. Poetry Project have been most welcoming, especially given our different backgrounds and approaches to poetry.  (They are more performative, and I am more of a print poet.)

2. Do you have a favorite place to write?

I generally like writing (and grading papers and so forth) in our not-so-new addition.  It has skylights, a beautiful picture window, a stereo, comfortable furniture, and cats.  I’m not a café writer because I feel too self-conscious; probably I am a suburban homebody at heart.  However, I will do my handwritten first drafts elsewhere, often at a poetry workshop but sometimes in a café or on a train. 

3. Who are your favorite poets, alive or deceased?

When I was younger, I immersed myself in the confessional poets, especially Robert Lowell, Sylvia Plath, and Anne Sexton, but I also enjoyed more observational poets like e.e. cummings or William Carlos Williams.  As one of my early teachers (Jane Shore) was a great admirer of Elizabeth Bishop, I have been influenced by her, too.  I am not a rhyming poet at all, but now I admire what Gwendolyn Brooks has done, balancing craft and observation of her community.  At this point in my life, writing about community and place appeals to me far more interesting than writing about self does.  I enjoy the Chinese poets (Han Shan, Li Bo, etc.) in translation although I realize that translation is never the same as the original, especially, as my Chinese students have taught me, when it comes to their culture’s poetry.  John Donne has always been one of my favorites, too, although I must say that I prefer the secular poems to the holy ones.  I also enjoyed reading Yusef Komunyakaa and Daniel Nathan Terry’s poems this summer.

I’ve enjoyed getting to know Felino A. Soriano, Mary Jo Balistreri, and Joan McNerney.  Felino’s work ethic and dedication to poetic evolution are particularly inspiring!  Charles Clifford Brooks III has a fabulous voice.  I have been intrigued by Martin Willits, Jr.’s poems on Celtic astrology.  I have a love-hate relationship with astrology, but I like seeing the Celtic signs’ ties to nature.  And, of course, I’m looking forward to getting to know other poets, especially through Poppy Road Review and Flutter Poetry Journal.

4. What five words best sum up your personality?

Nostalgic, contradictory, reflective, optimistic, close-to-the-vest.

5. Other than writing, what else do you love to do?

My husband and I enjoy going to concerts and plays.  We manage to listen to quite a bit of jazz by old and new artists.  We like eating at small, ethnic restaurants when we can although that is difficult since I really have to watch my weight.  I love walking to work in the morning through the neighborhood.  I love doing yoga, playing pick-up Ultimate Frisbee with the over-40 crowd, and going to the gym as I would not be around today without either.  I love exploring new-to-me neighborhoods in Washington, DC and elsewhere.  We love spending time with our cats Callie and Thelma. 

6. What are your current, and/or next projects?

During the school year, I am focused on teaching, but I take time to work on my blog-zine, The Song Is… promoting it, recruiting new poets, and coming up with different contests.  The fall contests honor Thelonious Monk and singer-songwriter Gene Clark.  In the spring, the contests will focus on women in music as well as swing music.  I am open to suggestions as long as they don’t involve me listening to music I dislike too much. 

This fall I’ve also published my first chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, with Kind of a Hurricane Press (Barometric Pressures Authors Series).  I want to promote it a little more, especially once the semester is over. 

When I return to writing over break, I would like to revisit some of the themes that have inspired me.  The Camel Saloon recently published a series of photographs from Newfoundland, a place I’ve never quite made it to, and I’d like to respond to a few more.  I would also like to put together a second chapbook with some of the poems I’ve published recently, but this chapbook will be more focused around either geography or music.

I am also open to different themes and inspirations.  Poetry must keep evolving as the poet’s life evolves.

Poppies Poppies Everywhere by Alex Nodopaka

Two variations on poppies

Alex Nodopaka was immaculately conceived in Ukraine. Exhibited finger paintings in Russia in 1940 before flipping his finger at and leaving during the Soviet shenanigans. Studied tongue-in-cheek at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, Casablanca, Morocco. Has been doodling since. Lives in the USA where he self-appointed as art pundit. His interest in literature and the visual arts is exhaustively multi-cultural.

Art link: http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/alex-nodopaka.html

Blackpool by Michael Holme

The tide is coming in

stirring the murk of sediment 

below fluffy clouds

of water.

Sunlight bounces off the time-lapsed like images 

of a sky, 

and an elasticity holds in vastness.

Blackpool in spring warms to get ready.

We’ve longed for our day out here

to break the monotony of suburbia.

Rain daggers fall on Manchester; here diamonds 

pinprick the blue sheet that climbs to the precipice.

Summer will bring thousands;

honest Northerners. We’ll be back.

We’ll sit again eating fish and chips

dreaming beyond the edge to slow Ireland.

Michael Holme is a 40+-year-old UK writer. He has been published in many places, and poems are gathered at www.michaelholmepoetry.com. When he’s not writing he plays the piano and gorps at his budget art collection. He’s recently been seduced by abstraction.

Narrow Alley in Morning—From One End to the Other by Tobi Cogswell

Tattered seam of sky

ripped by curls of iron

and quiet chaos—

an opaque surface

hangs suspended, while

the morning blush of sun

patterns jigsaw pieces on

worn stone and smooth walls—

pungent color softened by shadow.

Balconies dry clothes,

somnolent flags of people’s lives.

Their colors fly, like ticker-tape,

floating pinks and reds, ready

to greet the day. Out of sight,

roused by the hush of lost dreams

and the smell of coffee, one

mangy neighborhood rooftop cat picks

a careful path through chimney smoke.

Tobi Cogswell is a four-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee.  Her sixth and latest chapbook is “Lapses & Absences”, (Blue Horse Press).  Her seventh chapbook, “The Coincidence of Castles”, is forthcoming from Glass Lyre Press. She is the co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.sprreview.com).

Labels by William Cullen Jr.

Handwriting from the dead

is what the nun said

his penmanship resembled.

She prophesied he’d never

get better

and he never did.

His suicide note

beautifully clear and concise

caught the essence of himself

written as it was

in the ink of his own blood.

He ended the letter

thanking his teacher

for being the inspiration

beyond his life’s calling.

William Cullen, Jr., is a veteran and works at a social services non-profit in Brooklyn, NY. His poetry has appeared in Camroc Press Review, Christian Science Monitor, Gulf Stream, Right Hand Pointing, Spillway and Word Riot.