.jpg)
Issue 12 - November 2008 - Poetry
List 2008 by Aaron Chandler
life drove past me today.
i had pulled over at a farmers’ market
or a roadside stand,
smelling roses and such or
eating bratwurst.
i can’t remember
exactly.
but i saw him roll by.
he waved as he flew past.
i didn’t realize it was him at first
until i saw the populated back seat;
then i recognized him.
he was chaufferring a carload of people
i used to know.
they were smiling and laughing, but
didn’t know how to react when they
saw me
standing there
with a dying rose and a half-eaten pork sandwich in my hand.
Death of an Idea by Niki Ανδρικοπούλου
I saw the moon
rise from another side,
the human thumb
pointing its finger.
I saw the roots
uprooted
the fruit unshelled,
the rivers drained,
and the waterfalls
hushed.
I saw the whole
spilled out,
one by one.
When a dear friend of mine
drove his head
across his gun,
I saw the death of an idea.
He went down there
for his silence’s sake.
Taken by my hand
to cease the never-ending end
He whiled away his time
there.
His eyes used to
blink a line
of miles of dark –
his palms,
a gypsy lady picked them up,
opened two holes
and saw our future.
She said we ought to turn
the world upside down,
for nothing smaller can be done
to free our minds
from our hearts.
So I walked out
to bring nature in,
swallowing a color
from the rainbows’ feast,
throwing lightning
at my glittering crown.
And when I started multiplying
the mass of us
by the speed of light,
After I discovered
our energy’s vast number,
we took off,
like twin thunder
forcing up an enormous spread
of mingled, blown integrity.
Stepping our feet against
the white wall
we pressed and pushed
until the last layer of softness.
And in the air we prayed,
we feared and cried
until the vanishing point of laughter.
And we swam for truth
among flaming meteorites,
inside the blood of silver
shooting stars,
and towards the mirrors
of our freedom.
And we brushed our minds
with a new flashing
color light,
and we plucked out
the world’s metallic heart
and we killed off what was surreal.
For the truth was only small,
a sharp piece of stillness,
destined to stub incessantly
our precious, defeated,
so ugly self-importance.
EveryGirl and I by Christine Craig
If Everyman could only
understand
The pulse and rhythm of beating hearts
true love;
This undulating feeling
where nothing is impossible
and every new day
bears new promise.
Her body. My breath.
My body. Her breath.
Same difference.
We shed ourselves like writhing snakes
Peeling one another off, annually,
only to grow back
stronger.
If Everyman could only
understand
he would place us back
upon our pedestal, for We
are Everywoman.
Kind and cruel, claws and talons
painted like petals,
poised ready
to fight to the death
for one another.
Silken skin and bruised thighs
dirty dresses, torn stockings,
silent screams...
And everything that ever was
the embodiment of youth and
passion and hope
is alive and dies within us
and in the end,
Everything will be okay.
Because if it ís not okay
Then it ís not
The end.
Inspiration by Natalia Herrero
Lightning rarely strikes in the same place twice.
Writers defy nature, by being the exception to this rule.
Its unpredictability lies within each creator,
for one cannot forecast when the electrifying idea will occur.
However, we can be certain about the fact that it will come.
Every once in a while,
the universe synapses with us.
A world-wide connect the dots game is on,
and we are driven into a state of total awareness,
where a feeling of thundering understanding takes hold.
Clear skies become cloudy,
air turns into heavy wind,
and rain bathes the writer’s blank page,
turning water into ink.
But all this cannot be accomplished
without being an active player in nature’s game.
With each flash of light, secret spaces are revealed,
and it is up to us to cross their thresholds,
and find that hidden treasure, the superglue clue
which will allow us to write our world accordingly.
Still, it is what we do with our raindrops that matters,
for no two are ever alike.