Unexpected Disturbances. A Poem by Gary Grossman

 
 
Damn, what the hell?
Shuffling upstream,
Just outside the
Rhododendron line
Electric needles strike
Forearm, ankle and neck.
Effing yellow jackets.
 
Mother drove poorly
Always fiddling,
Cigarettes or radio.
Until her 65 German
Ghia vaulted a 30
Foot embankment
On the road cleaving
The sage-scented mountains
Between Tecate and
Tijuana — DOA
 
This story is true,
Not artistic license,
I was eighteen.
 
And so life is an
Erupting volcano,
A hurricane,
An unexpected
Disturbance, COVID-19,
Recession, cancer,
Allergies, bipolarity,
And yellow jackets,
Till the chips are cashed.
 
 

 
Gary Grossman is a Professor of Animal Ecology at the University of Georgia and and including hiatuses has been writing poetry for 25 plus years. His published poetry may be found in various reviews including: The Acorn, Athens Parent Magazine, Blood and Fire Review, Cotton Gin, Feh, Last Stanza Poetry Review, Lilliput Review, Midwestern Poetry Review, Old Red Kimono, Pearl, Poetry Motel Broadsides, Night Roses, Truck, and Verse-Virtual. His writing credits include 140+ scientific papers and ten years as a columnist for American Angler Magazine. I have a chapbook ms. currently with a potential publisher, and a graphical novel in manuscript form. Website @ www.garygrossman.net .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Five Poems in Italian & English Antichi suoni d’amore. Ancient Sounds of Love by Michela Zanarella translated by Leanne Hoppe

1.
 
Antichi suoni d’amore

 
L’istante di un sospiro
si aggrappa all’anima
allagando gli occhi
di segreti.
É il cuore
che salta in cielo
a pochi passi dall’eterno.
Percorre lunghi sentieri
di felicità
e si ferma a sciogliere
le pelli sotto gli echi
della sera.
Mentre il tramonto
resta una mano tremante
d’emozione,
le labbra danzano tra loro
e s’inebriano,
di vertebre tese
a trovare quel cielo lontano
che ha strappato i silenzi
per rievocare antichi suoni d’amore.
E continuano a correre
le voci
risorgendo sole al mattino.
 
1.
 
Ancient Sounds of Love
 
The instant of a sigh
grasps onto the soul
flooding the eyes
with secrets.
It is the heart
which jumps in the sky
to a few steps from eternity.
It travels long paths
of happiness
and stops to melt
the skins underneath the echoes
of the evening.
While the sunset
stays a trembling hand
of emotion,
the lips dance between themselves
and inebriate themselves
of tense vertebrae
to locate that faraway sky
that has torn silences
in order to recall ancient sounds of love.
And they continue to run
the voices
resurrecting sun to the morning.
 
2.
 
Mongolfiere
 
Una lacrima cresce tra le mani,
diventa fiume in corsa nelle vene
appena ti allontani.
Non vivo senza il chiaro dei tuoi risvegli,
quando mi baci prima di partire
e stringi il cuscino per annusare l’odore
che ci ha unito nell’infinito.
Ho ascoltato il canto delle serrature
fingendo che fosse solo musica,
ho visto il tuo sorriso svanire
dietro gli angoli d’uno sbadiglio.
Dormo ancora.
Appari dentro i colori d’un arcobaleno
voli nelle mongolfiere dell’anima,
spargi coriandoli di vita dalle sponde del cielo,
accompagni un bimbo al parco della giovinezza,
un uomo abbracciato alla propria immagine
che gioca con palloni di luce
nelle strade bianche della libertà.
Il sogno respira la mia mente.
Trovo una pagina di terra da riempire,
scrivo col fiato qualche domanda,
chiudo gli occhi
e parlo di te alla solitudine.
 
2.
 
Hot-Air Balloons
 
A tear grows between the hands,
it becomes a stream in motion in the veins
as you separate yourself.
I do not live without the bright of your awakening,
when you kiss me before leaving
and you cling to the pillow for the smell
that has joined us in the infinite.
I heard the song of the locks,
imagining that it was only music,
I saw your smile vanish
behind the angles of a yawn.
I sleep yet.
You appear inside the colors of a rainbow,
you fly in hot-air balloons of the spirit,
you scatter confetti of life from the banks of heaven,
you accompany a child to the gardens of youth,
a man nestled to the typical image
that plays with balls of light
in the white streets of freedom.
The dream inhales my intellect.
I find a page of ground to fill,
I write with the breath some question,
I shut the eyes
and I speak of you to the solitude.
 
3.
 
Arcobaleni e rugiade
 
Dove il fiato mi consente
pettino i giorni con un sorriso.
Assorta ad inseguire sogni
come una vita,
con il silenzio dell’anima
provo a fermare I binari
del tempo,
fino a fingermi fioca luce
nel grembo dell’eternità.
Solo un fischio di luna
srotola il mio vagare tra i cieli
e mi riporta
tra le geometrie di terra,
stanca, ad incontrare la realtà.
Sfoglio I grigiori di città
tra arie incattivite da nebbie sporche
ed esistenze ammuffite
nel chiasso e nella velocità.
Mentre i fiumi esplodono
ed I ghiacci si consumano,
con gli occhi infangati di rabbia
cerco un po’ di calma
nel mio mondo ancora immacolato.
Arcobaleni e rugiade
hanno la mia voce.
 
3.
 
Rainbows and Dew
 
Where the breath allows me
I comb the days with a smile.
Absorbed by chasing dreams
as a life,
with silence of the soul
I try to stop the tracks
of time,
I will put an end to pretending to be feeble light
in the lap of eternity.
Only a whistle of the moon
unrolls my wanderings among the heavens
and brings back to me
between the geometries of the earth,
stagnant, to meeting the reality.
I browse the grayness of the city
through songs in captivity of filthy hazes
and molded existences
in noise and in speed.
While rivers burst forth
and ices are consumed,
with eyes stained by anger
I look for a bit of calm
in my world still immaculate.
Rainbows and dew:
they have my voice.
 
4.
 
Calde piume
 
Sintesi di luci imprigionate
nel lento tintinnio d’ormeggi.
Manovre costanti di vento
spingono le vele verso un podio
azzurro
in fusione perfetta col mare.
Gruppi di gabbiani
giocano tra cerchi di sabbia,
sfidando le mutevoli forme
capricciose del sole.
Ali di paradiso,
giganti messaggeri del silenzio
indispettiti dal vocio parallelo
d’altri esploratori d’acque,
lanciano grida convulse
alla conquista di terre lontane.
Trionfa il volo verso l’ignoto.
Oltre le nuvole
tramonti scelti,
destini conclusi,
amori protetti
da calde piume di neve.
 
4.
 
Hot Plumes
 
Synthesis of imprisoned lights
in the slow jingling of moorings.
Steady drives of wind
they push the sails toward
an azure podium
in perfect fusion with the sea.
Packs of seagulls
playing among circles of sand,
challenging fickle forms,
whimsical of the sun.
Wings of paradise,
giant messengers of silence
you get annoyed by a parallel bawl
of the next explorers of waters,
they throw cries unrestrained
to the conquest of distant lands.
Triumph, the flight direction unknown.
Beyond the clouds
sunsets chosen
destinies concluded
loves protected
in the hot plumes of snow.
 
5.
 
Come una Venere
 
Mi apparve muta la sera
in una carezza scura di attimi.
Le sue braccia mi raccolsero
dal profumo del giorno
e mi condussero in una terra
che spiava i sogni e le nuvole.
Sguardi d’angelo
cercavano il mio respiro
per spingere lontano cuori spenti
e lacrime mascherate di gioia.
Indossai la luce
e mi lasciai tuffare tra I rami
ed il grano.
Cantai in coro lodi alla vita
tra il pullulare di polline
e resine.
Mi feci amare dal cielo
come una venere aggrappata
ai venti.
Somigliavo ad una nave
d’argento scalza
pronta a pescare al fondo
le lucciole e gli amori.
Erano bianche le mie impronte
tra i tramonti,
come l’onda trascorsa a
ritornare bagliore.
 
5.
 
As a Venus
 
It seemed to me silent, the night
in a caress dark of moments.
His arms gathered me up
out of the perfume of the day
and they led me into a ground
that spied the dreams and the clouds.
The angel’s glances,
they desired my breath
in order to incite distant hearts extinguished
and masked tears of joy.
I put on the light
and I let go of myself to dip among the branches
and the wheat.
I sang in choir hymns to life
among the swarming of pollens
and resins.
I made the sky love me
as a Venus clinging
to the winds.
I was compared to a silver barefoot ship
ready to fish from the deep
fireflies and romances.
They were white, my imprints
among sunsets,
as a wave passed to
returning shine.
 
 
 
Michela Zanarella
 
Giornalista pubblicista – redattrice di Periodico Italiano Magazine
Presidente della Rete Italiana per il Dialogo Euro-mediterraneo (RIDE-APS)
Presidente A.P.S. “Le Ragunanze”
Extraordinary Ambassador for Naji Naaman’s Foundation for Gratis Culture

 

 
 
Michela Zanarella was born in Cittadella (PD) in 1980. Since 2007 she lives and works in Rome. She published the following collections of poetry: Credo (2006), Risvegli (2008), Vita, infinito, paradisi (2009), Sensualità (2011), Meditazioni al femminile (2012), L’estetica dell’oltre (2013), Le identità del cielo (2013), Tragicamente rosso (2015), Le parole accanto (2017), L’esigenza del silenzio (2018), L’istinto altrove (2019). In Romania the collection Imensele coincidenţe (2015) was published in a bilingual edition. In the United States, the collection translated in english by Leanne Hoppe “Meditations in the Feminine”, was published by Bordighera Press (2018). Author of fiction books and texts for the theater, she is a journalist of Periodico italiano Magazine and Laici.it. She is one of the eight coauthors of Federico Moccia’s novel “La ragazza di Roma Nord” published by SEM. Her poems have been translated into English, French, Arabic, Spanish, Romanian, Serbian, Greek, Portuguese, Hindi and Japanese. She won the Creativity Prize at the Naji Naaman’s 2016 International Award. She is an ambassador for culture and represents Italy in Lebanon for the Naji Naaman Foundation. She is speaker of Radio Double Zero. Corresponding member of the Cosentina Academy, founded in 1511 by Aulo Giano Parrasio. She has worked with EMUI_ EuroMed University, a European inter-university platform, and deals with international relations. She is President of the Italian Network for the Euro-Mediterranean Dialogue (RIDE-APS), Italian leader of the Anna Lindh Foundation (ALF). Honorary President of the WikiPoesia Poetic Encyclopedia.
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Fair Play (As the stars give and take) A poem by Tony Martin-Woods


Roaring Applause
 
    “The future belongs  
     to those who believe 
     in the beauty of their dreams”  
cried the politician 
to the excited crowd
of tender eyes
hit by a trembling sunset

Roaring Applause

It was an evening 
of sweat, joy, hope, 
cheers, banners,  
drinks, hot dogs, 
mobile pics, 
flags and burgers, 
accidental rubbing 
of bodily parts, 
human communion, 
siblings in arms,
shoulder to shoulder,
etcetera, etcetera
and vice versa
all over again

They go home

now, the event 
has been consumed,
empty all around 
plastic 
tall walls  
plastic 
cheap stands 
enclosure  
formerly green 
ground of pride
covered 
with dead litter

No burial
or cremation
in this funeral 
of dusk.
   
Sigh
 
The happy cleaner 
in charge  
of clearing 
single-handedly 
all the mess  
went on to the silent stage   
and shouted
husky non-binary
vocal chords      
eyes cast on the sky: 

Sigh 

    I am the only owner  
    of my sexual fantasies 
    with any of you
 
    My brain is mine,
    perhaps a glorified gut,
    who knows

    Every shot 
    or scene   
    that I project inside my head
    with my genitalia-powered 
    camera 
    with my solo heart-pumped  
    streaming 
    belongs solely to me

    No intellectual property! 
    No performance rights! 
    No subscription fees! 
 
    Bring your own clothes, 
    or make use 
    of any  
    of my free  
    unlimited costumes  
    in my free  
    exclusive 
    staff 
    undressing room
 
    I solemnly promise
    I will not broadcast  
    nor disseminate 
    any footage whatsoever,  
    so, please, 
    don’t worry about pain  
    or shame,  
    or the pertinence 
    or aesthetics   
    of our postures: 
 
    We all shall be healed 
 
    in my dreams 
    lonely 
    we love each other, 
    deep,
    in full, 
    as one 

Fair play 

Meanwhile,
high up,
neutron stars 
thinking themselves
as discreet hunters
fall prey
of inverse matter
of no colour
unthought of

For our light 
through darkness 
comes 

 
Quote at the beginning of the poem: apparently first made, literally, by Eleanor Roosevelt, 
but it could have been said, and will be said in the future, by many other people. 

 
 

 
Antonio Martínez Arboleda:
Antonio (Tony Martin-Woods) started to write poetry for the public in 2012, at the age of 43, driven by his political indignation. That same year he also set in motion Poesía Indignada, an online publication of political poetry. He runs the poetry evening Transforming with Poetry at Inkwell, in Leeds, and collaborates with 100 Thousands Poets for Change 100tpc.org/. Tony is also known in the UK for his work as an academic and educator under his real-life name, Antonio Martínez Arboleda at the University of Leeds. His project of digitisation of poetry, Ártemis, compiles more than 100 high quality videos of Spanish poets and other Open Educational Resources. http://www.artemispoesia.com/ .

He is the delegate in the UK of Crátera Revista de Crítica y Poesía Contemporánea , where he also publishes his work as translator from English into Spanish. He published his first volume of poetry in Spanish, Los viajes de Diosa (The Travels of Goddess), in 2015, as a response to the Great Recession, particularly in Spain. His second book, Goddess Summons the Nation Paperback , Goddess Summons the Nation Kindle Edition , is a critique of the ideas of nation and capitalism, mainly in the British Brexit context. It incorporates voices of culprits, victims and heroes with mordacity and rhythm. It consists of 21 poems, 18 of which are originally written in English, available in print and kindle in Amazon and other platforms. Editor’s note: further information bio & academic activities can be found at this link: https://ahc.leeds.ac.uk/languages/staff/91/antonio-martinez-arboleda

 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

A dead cell phone. A Poem by -Bhuwan Thapaliya

 
A dead cell phone.
 

Her late grandfather came with a hobbling gait

in her dream last night. They were in a tented camp

on the river bank, nearby their abandoned farmhouse.

He poured a large peg of Khukri Rum, drank it

with a sly smile and sat down beside her

on a wobbly camp cot, lit a cigarette,

nostalgic smoke curled into the night.

He took a sip again and through a ragged crack

glimpsed outside and beamed at a star worm crawling

among the fallen leaves, and thereafter listened for hours and hours,

the melody of those olden times. Its lyrics now hidden, buried,

awaiting discovery as a child with several siblings,

all forgotten, overlooked, lost.

The sky roared and the wind blew hard.

“I think I have to go now,” he whispered in her ear.

“So where do you go from here, grand pa,” she asked.

“I will continue to travel

but now it is all about reverse travel.

I will move to a place where I’d been before

and stay maybe a week, a month , a year,

and completely alter the way I see the future.

I see my father. I see my mother.

I see your grandmother. I see you,”

he answered her with a somber smile

and requested her to stay connected with her past.

She nodded her head and said I will grandpa.

Next morning, she woke up late

to a dead cell phone

beside her bed in a wooden rack.

No charger in sight.
 

 
Nepalese poet, Bhuwan Thapaliya works as an economist, and is the author of four poetry collections and currently he is working on his fresh poetry collection, The Marching Millions. Thapaliya’s books include, Safa Tempo: Poems New and Selected (Nirala Publication, New Delhi), Our Nepal, Our Pride , Verses from the Himalayas and Rhythm of the Heart. (Cyberwit.net)Poetry by Thapaliya has been included in The New Pleiades Anthology of Poetry, The Strand Book of International Poets 2010, and Tonight: An Anthology of World Love Poetry, as well as in literary journals such as Urhalpool, MahMag, Kritya, FOLLY, The Vallance Review, Nuvein Magazine, Foundling Review, Poetry Life and Times, Poets Against the War, Voices in Wartime, Taj Mahal Review, VOICES (Education Project), Longfellow Literary Project, Countercurrents etc.
 
Author
Safa Tempo: Poems New and Selected
https://www.amazon.com/Safa-Tempo-Poems-New-Selected-Bhuwan-Thapaliya
 
Our Nepal, Our Pride
https://www.amazon.com/Our-Nepal-Pride-Bhuwan-Thapaliya
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; his publications include
 
All the Babble of the Souk , Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals and Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, collected poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.
 
You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

3 Poems by Strider Marcus Jones. CUBIST GHETTOS, et al.,

 
(i)
 
CUBIST GHETTOS
 
I think
To shrink
The distance
Of resistance
Inside self
To all else-
 
Knowing
Showing
Vulnerability
In the mystery
Leaves what is closed
Openly exposed-
 
To explanation
Under examination
When there isn’t one
That hasn’t gone
Until roof floor and sky door
Are no more-
 
Only roulette rubbles
Of drone troubles
Imprisoning
Reasoning
In cubist ghettos
Wearing jazz stilettos-
 
Flashing flamingo legs
To pink paradise harlem heads
While new trees grow up mute
And ripen with strange fruit
Some whites too this time
A drowned boy me and mine.
 
 
(ii)
 
CLOUDS OF CHAOTIC CROWDS
 
Smitten-
Bitten
Like Faustus-
Leave the house dust
With fool’s gold
Unsold.
This conveyor belt lair
A castle in the air
For Dante’s dreams of doubt
To wander about
In, with voices that pretend
To be a different friend-
Oh my, what a frame,
Too big to blame
And beyond a simple say
To save and stay-
So, close the dungeon door
To be what you were before
And walk away
Into the clouds
Of chaotic crowds
Falling as rain
On sterile plain.
 
 
(iii)
 
DOES HER FAR BEAUTY KNOW
 
does her
far beauty know
where my thoughts go
without her
when i walk
in lush rain lashing down-
 
squatting in enclosed fields
of remote wheat and barley
around told feudal cities and towns-
to talk
to fate and how it feels
to be emptied entirely
of hopes sounds-
 
these evolutions
fill rich men’s purses
and revolutions
are poor universes
that try to bend
the unequal
to be equal
without end.
 
does her
far beauty know
where my thoughts go
with her
when i walk
in lush rain lashing down-
 
soaked in moments come to this
paradise and precipice
belonging
bonding
thoughts
serendipitous
blowing into us-
 
gives shelter to the self
of us and other else-
unlike bare rooms we rent
to leave behind
when change moves us to fit
into it-
with only our echo and scent
of passion and mind.
 
 

 
 
Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms. He is also the founder, editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/
 
His poetry has been published in the USA, Canada, Australia, England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, France, Spain, Germany; Serbia; India and Switzerland in numerous publications including: Dreich Magazine; The Racket Journal; Trouvaille Review; dyst Literary Journal; A New Ulster; Impspired Magazine; Literary Yard Journal; Piker Press; oppy Road Review; Cajun Mutt Press; Rusty Truck Magazine; Rye Whiskey Review; Deep Water Literary Journal; The Huffington Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine; The Lampeter Review; Panoplyzine Poetry Magazine; Dissident Voice; & Poetry Life and Times,Artvilla.com.
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Zip 16-20 Poems by Christopher Barnes

ZIP 16
      Ada unclutters table
                                  wedlock roses nip ringlets
    dotted swiss crimped
                                  olivesheen mules ticktack
      meticulous yardstick
                                  foundation’s huffish
lumbar-ease chair twirls
                                  moxie jolts the room
    alcove obscures work
ZIP 17
        unyielding duck cloth
                                        how-do-you-do floor manager
                    Polly’s smitten
                                        whacked is mere la-di-da
  blue jay flicks in hawthorn
                                        ingots on choker
needle clamp lodges – ready
                                        crimpers teeter – lassoe
ZIP 18
              lace on gingham
                                    keen eclipsing of a bleb
    seam ripper’s all drama
                                    amplifying smirk
                    feed dogs run
                                    primper urges on culottes
Joe’s tardy with mortgage
                                    whim-wham the model prowls
  overhears himself brood
ZIP 19
cozy flannel backslides
                                logo on camisole
      Sara dwells on tryst
                                hesitant flump into gown
pincushion absconded
                                overshot wires
  foot controller’s trusty
                                manikin torso ignored
    zigzag stitch waltzes
ZIP 20
Meg’s back from canteen
                                    wattle and flax on brow
      veers damask at angle
                                    kiss curl set
                bias tape firms
                                    hip-hop loosens
        menu screen dayglo
                                    buyer tilts specs
              frock coat builds

 
 
 

 
 
In 1998 I won a Northern Arts writers award. In July 200 I read at Waterstones bookshop to promote the anthology ‘Titles Are Bitches’. Christmas 2001 I debuted at Newcastle’s famous Morden Tower doing a reading of my poems. Each year I read for Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival and I partook in workshops. 2005 saw the publication of my collection LOVEBITES published by Chanticleer Press, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh.
 
On Saturday 16Th August 2003 I read at the Edinburgh Festival as a Per Verse poet at LGBT Centre, Broughton St.
 
Christmas 2001 The Northern Cultural Skills Partnership sponsored me to be mentored by Andy Croft in conjunction with New Writing North. I made a radio programme for Web FM community radio about my writing group. October-November 2005, I entered a poem/visual image into the art exhibition The Art Cafe Project, his piece Post-Mark was shown in Betty’s Newcastle. This event was sponsored by Pride On The Tyne. I made a digital film with artists Kate Sweeney and Julie Ballands at a film making workshop called Out Of The Picture which was shown at the festival party for Proudwords, it contains my poem The Old Heave-Ho. I worked on a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, facilitated by Lisa Mathews (poet) which exhibited at The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University, including a film piece by the artist Predrag Pajdic in which I read my poem On Brenkley St. The event was funded by The Policy, Ethics and Life Sciences Research Institute, Bio-science Centre at Newcastle’s Centre for Life. I was involved in the Five Arts Cities poetry postcard event which exhibited at The Seven Stories children’s literature building.
 
REVIEWS: I have written poetry reviews for Poetry Scotland and Jacket Magazine and in August 2007 I made a film called ‘A Blank Screen, 60 seconds, 1 shot’ for Queerbeats Festival at The Star & Shadow Cinema Newcastle, reviewing a poem… On September 4 2010, I read at the Callander Poetry Weekend hosted by Poetry Scotland. I have also written Art Criticism for Peel and Combustus Magazines. I was involved in The Creative Engagement In Research Programme Research Constellation exhibitions of writing and photography which showed in London (march 13 2012) and Edinburgh (July 4 2013)
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

Sing like a planet. A Poem by Rose Mary Boehm

 

Our earth is humming.
Enormous, swirling loops of sound.
Very low key. Not for our ears.
 
The water churns against stone,
rocks move against rock. A potpourri
of vibrations–not concerned with the golden rules
of tonal phrasing–are echoed between mountains,
are bowled across oceans and penetrate tectonic plates.
 
Male humpback whales, the ‘inveterate composers’
of songs ‘strikingly similar to human musical traditions’.
They sing only on calving grounds.
Very low key. Not for our ears.
 
We have organized sound and called it music.
Made it less daunting; ‘civilized’ what would otherwise
overwhelm. Millions of years of planetary vibrations
corseted into meter and tempo, pitch, melody,
harmony… an attempt to control our apprehensions.
 
Still, I turn my stereo to full volume. Vivaldi’s concerto
for mandolin, strings and basso continuo
in C major will soon bring the neighbor
to my door complaining about that awful noise.
 
 
 

 
 
 
Bio:
 
Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print). She was twice nominated for a Pushcart. Her fourth poetry collection, THE RAIN GIRL, was published in 2020. Her fifth, DO OCEANS HAVE UNDERWATER BORDERS, has just been snapped up by Kelsay Books for publication May/June 2022. Her website: https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

The Cats will Know. A Poem by Lidia Chiarelli

The cats will know

(quoting Cesare Pavese)

Among flowers and sills
the cats will know it.

Cesare Pavese: The cats will know

A silver moon rises

drawing

a diaphanous path

on the ocean

 

Only a lonely cat

leads our way

tonight.

 

The wind moans

and whispers its ancient story

 

Other days will come

and

it will be the time

of missing words

 

A time when

all our memories

go missing

one by one

in the winter silence.

 
 
 

 
 
 
Lidia Chiarelli is one of the Charter Members of Immagine & Poesia, the art literary Movement founded in Torino (Italy) in 2007 with Aeronwy Thomas, Dylan Thomas’ daughter.
Installation artist and collagist. Coordinator of #DylanDay in Italy (Turin). She has become an award-winning poet since 2011 and she was awarded a Certificate of Appreciation from The First International Poetry Festival of Swansea (U.K.) for her broadside poetry and art contribution. Awarded with the Literary Arts Medal – New York 2020. Six Pushcart Prize (USA) nominations. Mario Merz (Italy) Nomination for Arts 2020. Grand Jury Prize at Sahitto International Award 2021. Her writing has been translated into different languages and published in more than 150 Poetry magazines, and on web-sites in many countries.
 
 
https://lidiachiarelli.jimdofree.com/
https://lidiachiarelliart.jimdofree.com/
https://immaginepoesia.jimdofree.com/
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com ; You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author & https://poetrylifeandtimes.com See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)