April’s Featured Poet – Dr. Charles Frederickson

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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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