Month: March 2015

Core. A Sonnet by Robin Ouzman Hislop.

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This tumble down day of tears and clay.
I do not stand in awe, at the world’s throng
As I gaze across black hills rolling grey
Turbulent clouds on the darkening land
Reaching the peninsula of my eye
Its sudden scene, its solitary strand,
My thoughts of time, existence, shadow

 
 


Robin Ouzman Hislop Editor of the 12 year running on line monthly poetry journal Poetry Life & Times. (See also its Wikipedia entry at Poetry Life and Times). He has made many appearances over the last years in the quarterly journals Canadian Zen Haiku, including In the Spotlight Winter 2010 & Sonnetto Poesia. Previously published in international magazines, his recent publications include Voices without Borders Volume 1 (USA), Cold Mountain Review, Appalachian University N Carolina, Post Hoc installed at Bank Street Arts Centre, Sheffield (UK), Uroborus Journal, 2011-2012 (Sheffield, UK), The Poetic Bond II & 111, available at The Poetic Bond and Phoenix Rising from the Ashes a recently published Anthology of Sonnets: Phoenix Rising from the Ashes. He has recently completed a volume of poetry, The World at Large, for future publication. He is currently resident in Spain engaged in poetry translation projects.
 
 
robin@artvilla.com
PoetryLifeTimes
Poetry Life & Times
editor@artvilla.com
www.artvilla.com
Artvilla.com

Thallium, poem from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#81, Tl) by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Thallium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#81, Tl)
started 2/7/14, finished 2/8/14

I swirled the wine glass in my hand.
I watched the red wine swirl,
creeping it’s way to the lip
as I hypnotically observe the vortex.

I like drinking my red wine from those
low, wide-mouthed glasses
so you could smell the sweet aroma
without even drinking. But now,

now I check my fingernails,
looking for dark ridges. I wonder if I
should pull out a few hairs
and check the roots for telltale stripes.

I scan my brain to check if I have enemies,
the coast seems clear, but still I fear
that this precious liquid I hold in my hand
could be the vehicle for my demise.

And no, my liver’s fine, it was just tested,
and I’m not talking about alcohol poisoning
unless it’s because someone put something
in my drink I wouldn’t taste, or smell, or see.

But my brain now flashes to Thallium,
this superconductor, once used to treat
syphilis, gonorrhea, or even tuberculosis
is such a highly toxic heavy metal

that it was used for rat poisoning,
and sometimes even for hair removal
(yeah, trace amounts of Thallium can even
make you lose your hair). But the thing is,

I’ve heard that if you drop it into somethnig like,
say, red wine, no one would be the wiser
and you could kill someone without your victim
even knowing they were ever in danger.

If I keep this up, I’ll really start to worry
whenever my stomach hurts, whenever I feel
nauseous, or even have diarrhea.
If I feel numbness, or tingling and pain,

I’ll second-guess myself. I’ll have to check
the shower drain for excessive hair loss,
and I’ll check my fingernails and follicles again
to make sure I’m in the clear.

Porch Swing by Dandelion De La Rue

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Porch swing life in
some other place
moon humming happy
bugs playing fiddles
pies cooling
by the window

Down the road awhile
in smokey midnight bars
torchy songs low and thick
red lipstick eyes closed
songs for someone gone
a long long time

Outside slow motion
saxaphone
wakes the blood
sends foggy feet
to the magic house
yellow glow windows
Strong souls there,
souls so big
they never die.

Dreamstreet Man
drew that door
then walked through it.
You don’t know
he said
who’s the dream
and who’s the dreamer.

The air’s the same
The air’s the same.
It’s the same good
honeysuckle air.

Sunset and My Life with the Wave Two Video Poems by Octavio Paz Translated from Spanish

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octovio pazimages

Mexican poet, essayist, and political thinker. His works reflect many influences, including Marxism, surrealism, and Aztec mythology. El laberinto de la soledad/The Labyrinth of Solitude (1950), the book which brought him to world attention, explores Mexico’s heritage. His long poem Piedra del sol/Sun Stone (1957) uses contrasting images, centring on the Aztec Calendar Stone (representing the Aztec universe), to symbolize the loneliness of individuals and their search for union with others. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1990.

 
 

 
 

 
 
robin@artvilla.com
PoetryLifeTimes
Poetry Life & Times
editor@artvilla.com
www.artvilla.com
Artvilla.com

“Poet” by Ron Olsen

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Poet
by Ron Olsen

Of all the people in the world
How many are there do you suppose
Who dare call themselves “poets?”

Who are drawn
To say more with less
Daring critics
To deny their voice
In a world that so badly needs
Imagination

A calling?
Or ego revealed?
Either way
The result is the same
An irresistible draw

For the poet
There is no alternative
But to create

To hope that
Someone listens

 
©2015 Ron Olsen – all rights reserved

“Alone” – A Poem by Ron Olsen

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Alone
by Ron Olsen

The Ship was rolling
Unnoticed
Except that the sailors stood in two rows
To catch you if you fell
As you jumped off the chopper
After hitting the deck
Before you got your sea legs
It didn’t hit us until we were in the mess
And they set the plates of donuts out
That we were in no mood to eat anything
Much less donuts
I pushed the plate toward Steve
He pushed it back
Looking less than settled
We made it back to shore
Without betraying our manhood
Stomachs intact
Stopped for a beer on the way home
“A mood adjuster” he called it
Handing me a Corona
I felt better
Then
Suddenly
With no warning
Bitch slapped in the face by time
We were putting him in the ground
Before his time
Up at Forest Lawn
And Mark said
“I can’t believe our friend is in that box over there”
I had no reply
What could I say
About death?
It was the same place they buried another friend
With the same name
Two Steves
Within days of one another
It seemed
Although it was actually several years
Time plays games
Hours are days
Days are years
Your friends are gone
They told us it would happen
But you really don’t know
Until it does
As the ship keeps rolling
Leaving you there
Alone

©2015 Ron Olsen – all rights reserved

 

Ron Olsen is a Los Angeles-based writer.  More of his work can be found here.