Big thanks to Editor Glory Sasikala for publishing "Without Becoming Shattered" in the September Issue of GloMag.


https://joom.ag/hgne

Taurus of Man

(An Ekphrastic Poem)

Neither lit lamp nor prayer replace this dark

exhibition of a graveyard.

Alas, Guernica, tongues as pointed pieces,

sharp shattered shards of broken blades.

An eye-shaped bulb does not the red reflect,

two-fisted grips of death-like hands.

Alas, Guernica, hands with monstrous bent,

razors caused by strafing fusillade.

Winds of war and arrows blown through windows.

Bull’s tail drawn as arm of the dead.

Long necks neighbor faces beyond salvation,

art - black, white, and gray shows what’s been slayed.

The Taurus of Man shown in pen and ink

depicting his need to conquer.

His stubborn belief that he’s meant to fight war.

Eyes askew - agony forever displayed.

Thank you to Poetica Review for publishing "The Hunter of Words."

The Hunter of Words

I was never a predator

until I discovered the prey of books.

Like the last call at the bar,

I tell myself I must finish

the current chapter

before closing the cover’s door.

My reader’s attitude never grows jaded.

Every re-read of Pinter’s Betrayal

is more bitter than before.

Each revisit to Narnia,

a fresh slice of Heaven’s sweet pastry.

For too soon the pulse of life is stilled,

And while, many say that at worst,

death is a nothingness.

I disagree.

At worst, it’s a place without books.

Thank you to Poetica Review for publishing "Mondsüchtig:. 

Mondsüchtig (Lunatic)

What is the sound 

of starvation of words?

When the flames of expression

die in the grate

When your tangle of memory,

like twisted sheets,

strangle on a bed of thought

The weapon of your tongue

now dulled

If words come from thoughts

and thoughts make the world

will you now expose

the unexpected guise

of the lunatic

within your sphere?

your grand optimism to still the world

with your single word

“me”

lies dead on the ground

as millions of voices rise above yours,

all of them asking others

“what can I do to help?”

Thank you to The Writer's Magazine for publishing two of my poems in the September Issue.

Here's one of them:

Dennys At Midnight

It seems now so long ago.

Hashing out problems,

and firming up philosophies

over priced right coffee and pancakes until 2:00 a.m.

Learning the art of conversation

from my tribe-

Long ago,

They still walk beside me.

I hear their voices ring and sing

in my memories.

Comfortable silences and smiles

or raucous conversation

disclosing mutual experiences.

Friends gathering in that nocturnal eatery,

lending support,

walking in while others walked out.

Today, I am alone in my thinking.

How I miss one of

America’s best therapy lounges.

How I long for the glue of firm friends

that kept me from falling apart.

How I long.

Thank you, Mark Antony Rossi, for publishing my poem in Ariel Chart.




http://arielchart.blogspot.com/2019/09/as-i-saw-boulder.html








As I Saw Boulder


Those retro hipster streets, crowded with bohemian images,

abutting the mountains grand, recollecting peace and hippie love.

One New Age store replete with Occult books and Tarot cards 

intended to teach and to guide.

The street musicians’ chattering guitars play folk (Dylan, Baez, Mitchell)

or perhaps the acid rock (Hendrix, Cream, Doors) one era dug.

Another New Age store that sells incense, that spiritual return

to the time when the peace pipe filled the air with smells

of myrrh and burning grass.

Street dancers and magicians with magical movement

to keep the groove alive and remembered.

Thank you, Mark Antony Rossi, of Ariel Chart for publishing my poem.

http://arielchart.blogspot.com/2019/09/tilting.html







Tilting


He carries oblique remarks

upon the canvas of his lips.

He paints them as disordered fact.

He paints them as distorted fact.

He slants the truth; as reckless

as concert crowds

after the last note is played.

To meet the artist as a truthful man

has long been my wish.

If art is meant to be beautiful, 

let it dwell safely in his mouth.  

Thank you to Amanda Steel for including three of my poems in the Autumn Issue of Printed Words.


https://gallery.mailchimp.com/e2c7528f98e8fa3c893c6c12d/files/655c1e3c-6bc4-4f0c-b32c-1a1b87dca51d/Printed_Words_Autumn.pdf


Here is one of them:

Dark Feelings about Daylight
By Linda Imbler

For those people never charmed by dawn-to-dark,
who pull the shutters closed.
These lines are written to channel a declaration.
It’s okay
if the taste of sunlight
is bitter for you
or if you can’t find acceptance among the tinny voices.
I’m equally perplexed
about those wildly dependent
on the communion of camaraderie.
Like you,I’m always leaning in the mirror
trying to comprehend why summer’s torch is always blinding.
But I think I never will.