LIVE NOW CELEBRATING FIVE YEARS OF GLOBAL POETRY THAT BONDS US

THE POETIC BOND V
CELEBRATING FIVE YEARS OF GLOBAL POETRY
ISBN 978-1517783808
 
Publication Date 21 October 2015
Available from www.thepoeticbond.com and across all AMAZON Channels
 
Click here for PRESS RELEASE
The Poetic Bond, compiled and edited by Trevor Maynard
OUT NOW.
 
The Poets for The Poetic Bond V (2015) are
 
Amanda Judd, Belinda DuPret, Betty Bleen, Bonnie Flach, Bonnie Roberts, Brian McCully, Caroline Glen, Christine Anderes, Cigeng Zhang, Claire Mikkelsen, Clark Cook, Diane Wend, ER Davidson, Frances Ayers, Freddie Ostrovskis, Gilbert Franke, GK Grieve, Ian Colville, James Sutton, Jill Langlois, Joseph Simmons, Julie Clark, Kewayne Wadley, Leander Seddon, Linda Mills, Marli Moreira, Nana Tokatli, Neetu Malik, Peter Alan Soron, Pushpita Awasthi, RH Peat, Robin Ouzman Hislop, Sonia Kilvington, Wendy Joseph, and William diBenedetto

 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is the Editor of the online journal Poetry Life and Times (see navigation bar above & Facebook Pages of www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes and www.facebook.com/Artvilla.com – which are extensions of the website www.Artvilla.com , where he also acts as Editor. He’s published in a variety of international magazines and a recent Anthology of Sonnets: Phoenx Rising from the Ashes. Previously Robin has appeared in The Poetic Bond Series with his poems “Red Butterflies”, “From Here to Silence”, and “Far from Equilibrium” His volume of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, is available on Lulu & Amazon publishers http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
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In a corner of the Multiverse. A Poem by Amparo Arrospide


 
 

I leapt through a window of this room in Nijar
To fall into another room in Brussels
Where I was deciding
Whether to jump or not
into the room in Nijar
Where I am still deciding.

 
 
Amparo Arrospide (Argentina) is a Spanish writer and translator. She has published four poetry collections Mosaicos bajo la hiedra, Alucinación en dos actos y algunos poemas, Pañuelos de usar y tirar and Presencia en el Misterio as well as poems, short stories and articles on literary and film criticism in anthologies and both national and foreign magazines, such as Cuadernos del Matemático, Cuadernos Hispanoamericanos, Linden Lane Magazine, Espéculo, Piedra del Molino, Nayagua. She has received awards. Together with Robin Ouzman Hislop, she worked as co-editor of Poetry Life and Times, when it was a monthly webzine 2008-10, and coordinated in the Spanish sonnets section for the international anthology The Phoenix Rising from the Ashes (ed. Richard Vallance, 2014).
 
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Hourly, Ring His Knell. A Poem by Miriam C. Jacobs

He was the pearl she boasted, whom she lifted from clay

with a word, like God, from evidence of worms,

his beauty got neither for work, nor trade,

gift from the reach of a hand.

Had she powers, she would have sung

enchantments to the hole in the bottom of the sea,

seen all the ocean sunk, if only he

were sheltered in the sawdust of her palm –

in time, made coral of his bones, a spotless pearl

of that one eye, of his contours, trappings

like cells, rocks, islands – caskets where we dwell –

seen not the pearl is also shell, mere stuff,

coffer we hold, jewel we mourn, account its center lost

when its roundness rolls away from us in the grass,

vanishes in the ground.

 
 
Jacobs recent head
 
 
MIRIAM C. JACOBS is a alumnus of the University of Chicago and teaches college writing, literature and humanities. Jacobs is the editor of Eyedrum Periodically, the art/literature journal of Eyedrum Art & Music Gallery, Atlanta. Her poetry has appeared in Jewish Literary Journal, The East Coast Literary Review, Record Magazine, The Camel Saloon, Bluestem: the Art and Literary Journal of Eastern Illinois University, The King’s English, and Oklahoma Today, among other publications. Her chapbook of poetry, The Naked Prince, was published by Fort!/Da? Books in September 2013.
 
 
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Do colours get an elusive soul ? A Poem by Gabriella Garofalo

Do colours get an elusive soul? They do.
But now please turn the light on:
Weekends zeroed in
When she misspelt his Name,
Lackadaisical times –
Is she ready? Not yet, not for his Name –
Oh, cut it out with your freaky babbles –
Where are the skinny pale girls
Who hung around in seedy cafes,
Who dated o so wonderfully poised
Older men –
Beware, your soul hasn’t learnt yet
To fend off the sky,
As ever she smiles, says ‘thanks’,
Lets in a thrusting dark
Along with harshness from flowers,
Yes, from meadows, yes,
And to top it all water’s just her mirror –
Had they said no to the slithering wise
You’d be living like a fixed star
In an undeserved sky –
Spot on, sweetie, but I only give
To the panhandler who longs
For smiles and nods –
I only give to infinite.

 
 
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Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Blue branches”.

 
 
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Hidden Agenda. Poem(s) by J. “Ash” Gamble.

The Pulp
 
Our young fingers used to dig
through the rough outer shell
and find the sweet inner flesh
and that’s how we must live now
even in these last days of breath.
 
Say Yes
 
She enjoyed the chase
but when he dropped the ring
in her lap, she had to look out
the window a while and think,
holding him up on wires.
 
Hidden Agenda
 
It lingers, a serpent, right below
the surface of their words, ready
always to strike out with venom.
 
The Day He Stopped
 
Damn it, I’m going to stop, he said
and she had heard it before. Watched
him at the sink. Knew his well-rehearsed
lines. She knew when she left it would
be the same old blinking story.
 
Rassle
 
We used to call it rassling
and pinned each other to the floor
never knowing we let each other
win every time.

 
Benjiman Zephania
 

J. “Ash” Gamble is what might be called a late in life poet. His work has appeared in Dead Snakes and The Poet Community. He is from Ft. Myers, Florida.

 
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The Other. A Poem by JD DeHart.

 
 
Heidegger wrote about this Other,
the self that brings its being
to our work.
He (she) reads the words,
uses them, cuts them and mends
them as needed.
But we must allow that process,
we must allow play with our
sentences, must allow the reader
to recline on the pillow we make
with verbiage.
We must be open when we write
so that the reader came come
inside the word and take a peek.
 
 
jddehart
 
 
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available from RedDashboard. Please find one of his several blogs at http://spinrockreader.blogspot.com.

 
 
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SWEET LITTLE SPERM. A Poem by Tony Martin-Woods.

 
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm.
Show us what you are made of,
thrive to compete,
reach for the stars
in England’s global dream.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm.
Don’t worry if it’s just white tissue
where you have to navigate:
The world’s changing fast,
don’t refrain to adapt
to exciting new terrains.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm.
We don’t want any
foreign,
faster,
bastard
sperm
to get there,
to get anywhere,
in fact,
before you.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm,
if you’re idle, you’ll be dead.
I know there is no egg,
but who needs more of them
if technology will soon
allow to replicate,
even in their solitude,
individuals like you
who can’t find a mate?
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm,
it’ll do you good.
You don’t want to be fat,
like me,
or have cholesterol.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm,
it’s in your DNA
(and in my IDS),
like our sporting traditions,
discipline, skill,
our culture of duty,
glorious league tables,
sacrifice, routine.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm,
but do not demonstrate!
Do not complain!
Do not affiliate!
Put a brave face
and get on with it!
Don’t believe what anyone says,
just believe in you.
 
Keep moving your tale,
sweet little sperm.
Your welfare depends
on the vibrancy of your motion,
your speed up the stream,
and so does my wage,
and my job,
and the profits of thousands
of savvy businessmen
who trade
with the energy
of the movement
of your tail,
sweet little sperm.

 
 
zalaca
 

Tony Martin-Woods started to write poetry in 2012, at the age of 43, driven by his political indignation. That same year he also set in motion Poesía Indignada (Transforming with Poetry), an online publication of political poetry that he edits. Tony is a political and artistic activist who explores the digital component of our lives as a means to support critical human empowerment. He is also known in the UK for his work as an academic and educator under his non-literary name. He writes in English and Spanish and is due to publish his first book of poems in 2016.
 
 
www.poesiaindignada.com
www.tonymartinwoods.com

 
 
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Ansatz für lieben | Geek love. A Poem by Prabhu Iyer

 
1. Mystery girl, let me make an ansatz about you:
You are like an anti-gravity wave –
The farther I go, the more I pine for you.
Some kind of growing exponent:
Yes, you are the solution I ignore in my
Quotidian root-finding mission;
The annihilation – those killer eyes!
Now I see, we inhabit orthogonal planes;
 
2. Wonder-woman, let me make an ansatz about you:
You are elegance. Ripple-play
at pebbles, those dimpled cheeks,
deliciously symmetric – not Cartesian;
Guess it’s subterranean, Artesian,
in the k-space, transform domain,
my mind-space, where, girl,
you are a wonder of beauty and grace.
 
3. Magicienne, let me make an ansatz about you:
You are the particle for Love waves:
a lovelet; you tread shadow and space;
Dressed in that kaftan
when you walk in, I will sublimate.
Ether-maker, you solve the Hamiltonian,
I see now, how matter’s made.

 
 
Educated in India and England, Prabhu Iyer writes contemporary rhythm poetry. He counts the classical Romantics and Mystics among his influences. Among modern poets Neruda and Tagore are his favourites for their haunting and inspirational lyrical verse. Prabhu has also explored the meaning of modern art movements such as surrealism and cubism and their role in anchoring the society through his art-poetry. Currently he is based out of Chennai, India, where he has a day job as an academic scientist.
 
In 2012 Prabhu collected over 50 of his poems and self-published them on Amazon Kindle: Ten Years of Moons and Mists More recently, his 2014 entry made it to the long list from among over 5000 entrants to the annual international poetry contest conducted by the UK-based publishing house, Erbacce Press. His major current projects include a further volume of poetry, his first fictional novella and a planned series of translations of lyrics from Indian film music.
 
 
Editor’s Note:
for further information see Interview with Prabhu Iyer at this site
 
 
 
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