You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2008.
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Other notable works by James Penha and Sandy Hiss.
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Dr. Charles Frederickson-
FROM WOMB TO TOMB
Desperate lonely hearts craving hugs
Searching for whatever resembles love
Spine curved head bowed forward
Fetal position hope chest bound
Embedded purity highly refractive gemstone
Diamond in rough lacking finesse
Pierced elongated lobes throbbing anticipation
Filigree earrings sprinkled with glitter
Loupe magnifying loose chip flaws
Colorless artificial rhinestone imitative sparkle
Brilliant enough to please fickle
Graces absence being their presence
Virgin springs gurglingly smoothing rockery
Jagged edges ground to halt
Frozen stalactites cracked sliver shards
Meltdown dripping prismatic glossy desire
Quality determined by four C’s
Carat weight Clarity Color Cut
Inferiority complex crown jewel rejects
Star rubies bleeding purple hearts
Crescent moon hanging by thread
Rusty fishhook swallowed dangling guts
Fragrant stars dense with perfume
Confetti celebrating blissful special occasion
Otherwise engaged uncorked champagne effervescence
Popped questions impatiently awaiting answers
Ballroom strobe masked living corpse
Switching partners symphony left unfinished
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RUSTY LIMBO
Where nearly full moon slipped
Beneath beleaguered darkling faceless depths
Mirroring distorted time warp reflections
Midnight blue firmament snuffed out
Eerie disappearing ink light-heartedly treated
Revealing corked bottleneck secret message
Sand-crabs scurrying across gritty scorch
Stranded in ebb tide limbo
Sunken treasure chest embellished recollections
Bivalve mollusk hinges forced open
Water-logged obsolete pirated doubloons spent
Sluggish burdensome shell lifted off
Wading through bloodsucker infested shallows
Sudden drop-off ominous warning threat
Still water walking not running
Snubbing earthly matters that don’t
Consciousness aroused from twilight sleep
Neon fish blinking apparitional eyelids
Looking to clear up nostalgia
Invisibly seeing through the invisible
Prismatic crystal drip-dried salty teardrops
Overturned hourglass illusory curvilinear arcs
Fade resistant colorfast rainbows flooding
Golden age spectrum lost sparkle
Bent stingray slivers summoning dawn
Expectant Sol pregnant with hope
Whiplash tail venomous cervical spine
Jerky motions inflicting severe injury
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JIG JAG JUGGERNAUT
Supercontinent called Pangaea gigantic jigsaw
All earth fragmentary break-up adrift
Oddly shaped interlocking tessellating tiles
Outwitting minors testing major dexterity
Austrian fairytale castle WHEWish view
Incomplete picture missing key pieces
Discarded past lost childhood diversion
Warped cardboard flipped lid resealed
Zigzag mountains reaching incredible heights
Poking holes in big-bang theory
Volcanoes erupting with explosive force
Crusty lava vesuvian outbursts vented
Why is earth so restless
Impossible to solve sphinx-like enigmas
Riddled with shaky groundless IDIOTsyncratic
ASSumptions terra anything but firma
Seismic pressure cooker letting off
Steamy angst chasmal geologic faults
Overcrowded lonely planet seeking consolation
Flooded with tsunami thingamajig-saw-seen chaos
Misfits forced to conform square
Pegs pounded into round pigeonholes
Lofty nests ransacked molten image
Ruffled feathers plucked bareness exposed
Siberian Alaskan drawbridge missing link
Bering Strait suffering bipolar meltdown
Global warming tollgate barred passage
Credibility gap big-wig-wag-VIPerine bottomless p
I
t
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BRITTLE WISHBONE SNAPPED
Wheel of Fortune spinning fiber
Single spindle notched divining rod
Continuous strain of twisted yarns
Seer telling future linear chiromancy
Where stoic mountains remain unmoved
Crashing Olympian pantheon lofty heights
Observing my own destiny firsthand
Unclenched fist revealing fringed palms
Moirai trio never relinquishing control
Mercilessly prevailing over waiver pleas
Daughters of necessity entrusted with
Simply doing their assigned jobs
Dream-spinner Clotho interweaving chance encounters
All too brief butterfly ephemerality
Lachesis drawer of lots moralistic
Golden Rule yardstick determining length
Atropos inevitably snipping frayed thread
Nirvana search suffering painful pleasure
Life after death blessed afterlife
Do-gooder deeds paving karmic roadbed
Fallen leaf outliving conventional usefulness
Compulsions shed like withered petals
Pick rosebuds over fragrant blossoms
Stripping thorns stemming from self-extinction
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PEACE OFFERING
Frothy rabid hatred empty pockets
Holed up resistance spewing revenge
Rusty tear ducts weeping inconsolably
Impotent rage drowned in fear
Enigmatic fir sentinels attention bent
Conical shadows leaning on crutches
Ghostly skeleton branches eyeless needles
Mud encrusted no longer evergreen
Brittle fragile saplings broken arrows
Bowing east leaning towards Mecca
Nebulous silhouettes lost twilight prayers
Bound to nefarious eternal darkness
As dusk surrenders shrouded nighttide
Passes into itself beseeching Sunshine
To come out of hiding
Teaching bluebirds to chirp again
Uprooted cringing hostile earthy clumps
Caught in tangled undergrowth bramble
Thorny rosebuds unshackled cuffs polished
Dense clueless thicket demons unbound
Forever yet never vibrant afterlife
Crumbly wick hysteria rendered incarnate
Trembling flames resettled ashes-to-dust
Snuffed wind-blown votive candle relit
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NO MAN’S LAND
Weekend escapism wilderness nature hike
Carving previously unexplored wasteland trails
Trudging through prickly thistle bramble
Wading across knee-deep stony rills
Sterile bleak moor harvesting melancholy
Evaporated teardrops pools of sorrow
Maudlin dried up peat bogs
Luminous stingray sunstroke draining vitality
Fruity scent rebirth tinted green
Fleshy herbage shy pastel wildflowers
Ripening ovaries hopeful come-on petals
Enticing seedy pollen gathering bees
Roving grasshopper lies in wait
Pulsating hind leg veins poised
To jumpstart intrepid wanderlust in
Hot pursuit of quiet solitude
Hanging by sticky silken thread
Pupa cocooned away from loathing
Emerging butterfly unfolds wings takes
Leave not yet sure whereto
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CHAMELEONS
Vicissitudes of wrinkled nature show
True colorless ambiguity bare naked
Heart exposed lonely old world
Lizard’s quest for perfect mate
Its mirror image past unrecognizable
In camouflage uniform undetectably blending
Into terrain disguising scaly discerning
Soul changing clothes polishing markings
Coat of many colors reversible
Lining turned inside-out making first
Dance moves wild carnality soars
Free throes of untamable spirit
Flash fire burning inside puffed
Cheeks grown flush colorblind gaze
Another shade of effervescent hide
Imagined slowly facing proposed mate
Creeping into breeding habit tongues
Hissing then silently making love
The connection between life and
Death drowning in chromatic harmonies
Crystallizing same blood type sweet
Relief comes quickly teacup and
Saucer snugly stacked within each
Other while disembodied creatures unwrap
Retractile tails slithering away in
Opposite directions disappearing into veiled
Moonless haze heavens beyond reach
Rain forest shrouded in darkness
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AUTHORITY
Secrets of our storybook universe
Backed into corners unfolding pages
Flipping through yet-to-be edited chapters
Scanning indexes for prophetic solutions
Chips off old writer’s block
Bipolar slow unsure glacial meltdown
What lies beneath monolithic icebergs
Once upon certainties currently aren’t
Compromised more-or-less climate change
Rising global temperatures shifting gears
Weather patterns heightened sea levels
Extremes increasingly frequent severely intense
Global warming bodes cataclysmic effects
Fact not fiction apocalyptic forecast
Taming circus freaks of nature
Illusions deled droughty famine stetted
Uphill struggle pitted against downtrodden
Pretending to love each other
Forced smiles fake friend betrayals
Denying inevitability of sharecropper fate
Help make our endangered planet
Safe for diversity uniquely special
Respectful tolerance our humanistic goal
Environmental protection united common cause
Nothing worth knowing can be
Taught prefatory wisdom proofread enlightenment
Skepticism turned to leap-of-faith derring-do
Conviction copyrightable granted literati authority
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Granular Vision
Stretched blank canvas cursory glances
Infinite needle’s eye threading loopholes
Unlikely soiled landscape begs forgiveness
Dissolving perspective untouchable as grace
Self-portrait donning forced unctuous smile
Wrinkles seeping across once-fair cheeks
Instinctively knowing what lies behind
Transparent faceless mask fake persona
Still life wondrous covetous desire
Proper universe reconciling misspent hours
Settling for several teeming minutes
Everlasting penance deep purple salvation
Spitfire constellations innumerable expired stars
Fallen from divinity usefulness outlived
Remote light-years are gulped down
Voraciously detached shadows swallowed whole
Perennial bulbs coaxed into bloom
Petals opening with brazen yawn
Private parts exposed unblushing display
Pungent scent best only imagined
Pastoral landscape wrapped in silence
Stretched horizon fantastic surrealism grounded
Perfect triangle parallel tracks diminishing
Perspective fixed to vanishing point
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Boundless Imagination
Nonsense is one-way of perversely
Looking at existence through the
Wrong end of far-reaching telescope
Laughing at life’s absurd follies
All discoveries made and acts
Performed originate as creative fantasies
Daring adventurers explore predestined fate
Intrepid fearless journey without maps
Dare to give taking liberties
Risks others regard impracticably unsafe
Try and fail but never-never
Fail to try-try-try again-again
Those who hide behind masks
Eventually expose their faceless selves
Rip off let’s pretend disguises
Encountering inner anima self-awareness truths
Hopes become realities only when
We learn how to confront
And reasonably solve our own
Waylaid problems face life now
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Dr. Charles Frederickson is a Swedish-American-Thai progressive visionary, feisty vagabond and passionate do-gooder who has wandered intrepidly through 206 countries, an original sketch and poem for each presented on
imagesof.8k. This e-gadfly is a member of World Poets Society, based in Greece, with 200+ poetry publication credits on 6 continents, including: Above Ground Testing, Angelfire, Ascent Aspirations, Auckland Poetry, Blind Mans Rainbow, Both Sides Now, Carillon, Caveat Lector, Cordite Poetry Review, Dance to Death, Decanto, Eclipse, Flutter Magazine, Fullosia Press, Gangway, Greatworks, Green Dove, Indite Circle, International Poet, Listen & Be Heard, Living Poets, Lunarosity, Madpoetry, Masque Publishing, Melange, Newtopia, Neon Highway, New Verse News, Planet Authority, Poetisphere, Poetry Canada, Poetry Cemetery, Poetry of Scotland, Poetry Stop, Poets for Peace, Poetry Superhighway, Pyramid, Sz, The Smoking Poet, Vintage, Ygdrasil, Ya’Sou! and Zafusy.
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James Penha-
CASUALTY
I could always get Dad to talk
about how he had felt
welding Mighty Mo’s top mast
before She sailed
to transform
Her peachy-cheeked sailor boys
into heroes.
On the Aurora model my brother,
listening to American Bandstand,
put together
with glue and dirty, patient fingers,
Dad pointed out the very spot,
in scale,
where he stood free
atop the wide Missouri
above the Brooklyn Navy Yard
dry dock.
My father brought his thumb
to bear upon the decaled star
memorializing
the immortal moment when
MacArthur
himself
ended the Pacific War.
In answer to my friends
who had to know
what my daddy did
while theirs
breathed down
Audie Murphy’s
dogtag chain,
I used to say
what Dad used to say
to my brother and me,
“Building those ships
was important work, boys.”
But I heard the qualm.
He regretted
the missed chance
to die for his country
and give us up
until,
without warning
one Sunday morning,
the asbestos got him.
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CHAOS
IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA
The federal government calls it
arid
shrubland,
but it’s desert to me
when it hasn’t rained two years.
And home.
The sheep,
they’re too weak
to bear
their own wool,
so we sell ’em to Saudi
for barbies, I guess.
Now the shrub, it can last
three years without rain, but
we’ve got the perfect balance here,
if
of course, it will rain,
before three years.
I can’t think
different.
A year ago, the crickets
got real quiet,
and the moth hung
on our panes.
Rain, says the black fellas.
I believed ‘em
‘cause I had to.
So don’t a big black thundercloud
puff
across my station here
quiet,
and it pours itself
right where the pond was
‘til the sun shines
on swans and ducks
floating
in the middle of the desert?
Thought it was a damn mirage.
No sense,
yes?
so, it’s got to rain
soon.
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WOODY ALLEN, ALIVE AND WELL
When does wise turn sad? When romantic
melancholia depress?
When nourishing fire’s ash drop with a vengenace?
When love shed like?
When the old dog too stiff to greet you at the door
even if she hears you enter?
Is it cued by the short days? No wonder
Ibsen frowned on the other hand.
Will work suffice?
How much happier really
is Stallone? Well, then
Beatty? Redford?
But . . . Woody?
I trailed Woody Allen up Madison Avenue once.
Block after block, I slowed to his footsteps. He
talked with a woman oh
twice his height. Not Keaton,
nor Mia of course. They parted the waves.
In the wake, I watched millions
tilt their eyes and try to watch
with casualness
where they went.
Not one broke stride;
we yielded Woody his vector. But at the plane
of passage
all turned for the denouement
with their heads upon their shoulders
and quickly back to each other to ask,
rhetorically, “Do you know who that was?”
or to say who that was.
The sure
only smiled.
Others looked back.
This city was Woody’s.
I watched Woody and the woman
turn a block onto Fifth and into an apartment house.
It has taken me years to intrude with this, but
my sadness
makes me want to write
that Woody
lived with reverence.
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A native New Yorker, James Penha has lived for the past sixteen years in Indonesia. No Bones to Carry, a volume of Penha’s poetry, has just been published by New Sins Press. His award-winning 1992 chapbook On the Back of the Dragon is now downloadable from Frugal Fiction. Among the most recent of his many other published works are an article in English Journal; fiction at East of the Web and Ignavia; and poems in THEMA and in the anthologies Silver Boomers (Silver Boomer Press), Queer Collection (Fabulist Flash Publishing) and Only the Sea Keeps: Poetry of the Tsunami (Bayeux Press). Penha edits The New Verse News, a website for current-events poetry.
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Sandy Hiss-
Siam Rose
The abalone handle
inscribed Siam Rose
rests gently in my palm
as I hold the mirror close
to my fair isle skin
and a face whose features
suggest Amerasian
Dark almond eyes pierce their
way into reflections of golden
temples and Buddhist monks
praying in fire-orange robes
Scent of incense burns away
ancient Thai prayers
drifting up into the sky
only to dissipate and rain down
on the dusty streets of Bangkok
cleansing the city of foreign
dirt and immorality
I think of the GI in olive drab
stumbling his way into
a side-street family bar
to drown his homesickness
in Budweiser
Then she appears
strutting around in slinky silk
and 3” heels, a debutante in heat
walking over to the lonely GI
who glances at her
trying to look unimpressed
in that I-don’t-care-who-you-are
kind of way
But he does care
fumbles with his wallet
trying to remember how much love
he brought with him
and what to name me
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Synergy
On the outside,
my demeanor is calm and cool;
a magnolia quietly surrendering
its sweet scent to the putrid
odor of a world in decay.
Trapped in a grey room,
I’m the fading white on the walls.
The crystal vase sparkling when
the lights are turned off. Dropping
hints within specks of dust.
On the inside,
in the nude, I’m on fire;
an orange aster burning the marrow
in my brittle bones. Thriving
on smoky fumes and dead poetry.
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Blind Lily
She always wore an Oriental Lily
tucked seductively behind her right ear.
She had never been to the Orient
but in her past life she was a geisha.
The fortune teller in the old Victorian
told her so; it had to be true.
Downstairs, pale linen curtains shrank
under the sun’s heat, their beauty marred
beneath a patina of ochre rays.
Soaking in a bath of orange blossoms,
she tried to wipe away the porcelain
veneer that coated her life. White was
never her color; she longed to be a yellow
girl who glowed in the sun like Buddha.
So she prayed to him, chanting words she
memorized from a travel brochure. Gray
strands floated like jellyfish around her
envy, stinging her cloudy eyes.
She couldn’t see.
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Sandy Hiss‘ poetry has been published in over 65 print and online poetry journals. Her first book of poetry, Ever Violet, was published in April 2007 and can be purchased at d-npublishing. She also has 2 chapbooks, Beneath a Black Pearl Sky and Petal Storm at Lulu.
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