Tag Archives: iron poem

two forks #1 – Lois E. Linkens

Staggering piece by Lois E. Linkens

“Once I met a fork in that craggy road,

And it did two bold options so present –

Two ways in which to go, with choice proceed

Across the scanty plains of life and breath.

One was easy. Simple love for concrete minds

As was solid writ, to nakedness combine

And so become a woman in the truest sense.

Like that! I’d live by Eden’s face and hence

Would bat all questions to our bodied stance”….

https://loislinks.wordpress.com/2018/10/02/two-forks-1/

Art by Dan Hillier.

Across The Bow – Matthew D. Eayre

Across The Bow – Matthew D. Eayre

Breathless and formidable as always:

“Far from my mind is the thought
of what I may possess
or what others have not

A place between understanding,
perhaps
education is not the measure
of a man’s knowledge
and experience is only one of many

I cannot find the sound of reverence
echoing down hallowed halls;
as though none had been before
today sounded the first call…”

Read this stunning story on Sudden Denouement Literary Collective:
suddendenouement.com/2018/09/28/across-the-bow-matthew-d-eayre

Poetry of Monsters is also his doing!

Writers of the imperfect maps- Iulia Halatz

Writers of the imperfect maps for the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, where words are blades and images glint like fire:

Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn:

suddendenouement.com/2018/09/19/writers-of-the-imperfect-maps-iulia-halatz

© Iulia Halatz

Photography art by Cecil Beaton.

I am delighted that five of my poems were included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

Venusberg

Venusberg – Written for the Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

She walks slowly
like music

She feels gently
like water caressing
the stone it pierces
in the long haul of time…

The cleavage of a rose
tells all about her beauty.

Fine alabaster lies
In the heart of her skin.
Sweet fruits alive
in the deep velvet
of a green swirl
are dappled with her insurmountable scent.

She catches the tendrils of care
sent by your star
She buries them
in trenches
in her armature of love.
Your breath is
mortgaged to her smile…

Burnished sunsets
chant
the moment
She steps
in the shade of the evening:
“Can you dance on water with I?”

© Iulia Halatz

I am delighted that this poem was included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

Buried moon

Buried moon, buried moon
Who to talk about at noon
When dreams are plundered by light
And powdered in gold and charcoal dust.

Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse
and at falter to surmise
the scanty slumbering traces
that led stupors into trenches.

The owners of the light
Do not know its might
and the pleasure of the sun
to astound and burn above…

Buried moon, buried moon
I want you soon…

As to play my feral dreams
around the all surviving tunes!

 

(Reposting an old poem)

Art – Buried moon by Edmund Dulac.

Sun chokes the atmosphere

Sun chokes the atmosphere
Moon dies and takes
the truth and breath of you
Stars inscribe the sky
and determine
who’s alive…
What are your dreams?
Ask your heart
and put an old wish
to the slaughter.

Wild is the conspicuous green grass
that tells itself
to reach the stardust smell of spring.
Old is the key
that keeps away the chains
and charms unfathomed
to open a new gate
As you wear another’s
beating heart
melting in
and dripping of blue lust
Not knowing when
to destroy the dark
and say:
I am saving the meat
of my dreams for you!

 

Art by Konstantin Koborov.

Persephone’s dusk

Why can’t we
sleep with the Gods?
be with them
turn their thoughts to foam
touch and revere
their lapis lazuli skin
until myths flicker in the cave

and the earth booms at their voices
The rain from Olympus
is the fog in the valley.

Life is not all lovely thorns and screaming butterflies.

 

Art by Gervasio Gallardo.

Happiness

…Happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair. – Jane Kenyon

Happiness is immaculate
and wordless
Happiness is the fire person
Burning for your path
Lighting like the moon
dense and bright and alive
Hoovering on the alphabet blue
of the world
Uncovering a soul into desire
Pulling out a Love
that dissolves and finishes…

Happiness is the love
carved into the bark
that kills pitfalls and
feeds the unicorn-green grass.

Happiness is a father
that lived oceanless
for a daughter to grow
tied to the oceanside.

 

Art by Hansol Choe.

November

It was November ~ the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.
L.M. Montgomery

It was November ~ the month of promiscuous trees, turbulent moons dressed up in haze, opal leaves layering the smock of earth.

 

Art by Charles Vess.