Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor at of Motherbird.com of Poetry Life & Times.
His recent publication of collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, was published by Aquillrelle.com.
Buy All the Babble of the Souk by Robin Ouzman Hislop at Amazon or Lulu.......
Read more
Biography: Nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, Neil Ellman writes from New Jersey. More than 1000 of his poems, many of which are ekphrastic and written in response to works of modern and contemporary art, appear in print and online journals, anthologies and chapbooks throughout the world. His first full-length collection is Parallels: Selected Ekphrastic Poetry, 2009-2012 (Omphaloskeptic Press).
*** 2 Poets Laureate — New Westminster Poet Laureate Candice James and Canadian Parliamentary Poet Laureate Fred Wah at Royal City Literary Arts Society Setp 22, 2013 membership drive
***
Poet Laureate, New Westminster, BC
President, Royal City Literary Arts
Honorary Professor International Arts Acadamy, Greece
Board Advisor, Interantional Muse, India
Board Advisor, Federation of British Columbia Writers
Candice James is Poet Laureate of New Westminster, B.C. and President of Royal City Literary Arts Society. She is a poet, musician, songwriter and author of six poetry books A Split In The Water (Fiddlehead 1979);Inner Heart―A Journey; (2010), Bridges and Clouds (2011); Midnight Embers–A Book of Sonnets (2012); Shorelines-A Book of Villanelles (2013); and Ekphrasticism (2014). Websites: http://saddlestone.shawwebspace.ca and www.candicjames.com
Mister Tom thinks his people should be educated up.
And now I’m to Paris,
Going to Paris with Mister Tom.
I’m going to be a Chef.
I’m going to Paris, France.
***
Paul Strohm is a free lance journalist working in the Houston, Texas area. His poems have been published in a number of print and online literary journals. He is married to a HS English teacher who hates contemporary poetry,which makes for a happy meeting of the two minds. Paul has only one full frontal photograph of himself on his IMAC. He loves this photograph because it symbolizes the constraints of the culture he lives in. The hat was one size fits all. So everyman had to use it for his official military ID photograph. However, the wife says Paul has a big head.
(from the title “At Play in the Fields of the Lord”- Peter Mathiessen)
Often times, I am stuck sitting
For hours and hours on end
In between meetings
On which the day’s success depends.
Some odd spot, no amenities.
Maybe a coffee
In a parking lot
Descending to serenity.
This ridiculous pilgrimage
Not between temples dark.
More like an amusement park where
Madcap harlequins pillage plots.
She asks, “How did it go today?”
“Oh, fine… bad… okay.”The best part, I can’t really say,
Was spent in the Lord’s field- at play.
***
***
Bio: Phillip Larrea was born and raised in Sacramento, CA., lived in N.Y.C. and Northern New Jersey most of his adult life, but has since moved back to Sacramento “where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me.” (Paul Simon- The Boxer”). He studied poetry with Thom Gunn and Karl Shapiro at the University of California at Davis during the late seventies, and then all but abandoned writing until 2011. Since 2011, Phillip has had poetry published in over sixty journals and anthologies, is the author of Our Patch (Writing Knights Press), We the People (Cold River Press) and hundreds of non-fiction essays about the economic conditions of the average working household.
Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, Spectrum, three Bright Spring Press Anthologies and several Kind of A Hurricane Publications. She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net. Poet and Geek recognized her work as their best poem of 2013. Four of her books have been published by fine small literary presses and she has three e-book titles.
Oh! My heart’s in Cumbria,
That for so long I’ve missed,
The blue grey hills and valleys
Of early Autumn’s kissed.
For not since young I’ve seen it
Beneath a northern sky,
When at dawn in soft grey mist
I watched the clouds race by.
The lakes ‘neath mountain summits Are deepest peacock green, With trees aflame in Autumn, The like you’ve never seen! For colours rich in texture Are painting gold the hills While heathers bathe in purples, Ahead of winter chills.
All through this golden silence By silver tarns aflow, The low-land sheep are grazing Where tangled breezes blow And o’er beyond in Keswick, You’ll see the ospreys there, Among the blue of shadows Where sights of them are rare.
Yet should you walk yet higher To climb the tallest peak, There’s snow as white as crystal Where clouds will brush your cheek. My heart so loves this landscape That Autumn’s long desired, The lakes and fells and mountains, Where poets are inspired.
The bronze and gold this season Will nestle on the brink, Of shores beside pearl waters, Where trout and salmon slink. Oh! My heart’s in Cumbria, That for so long I’ve missed But hope prevails I may return To keep an Autumn tryst.
—
Lulu
Lulu Gee lives on the south east coast of England.
She’s had a varied working career starting at a theatrical shoemakers designing and making shoes for most of the west end shows in London, then as a hotelier and finally in finance for a corporate cryogenic company until she retired, and now is a proud published author of three poetry books.
She now writes full-time with her two dogs Teddy and Dolly never far from her side in her newly acquired cottage in the Kent countryside, known as the garden of England.
Her first book, ‘Dolly’s Wonderful New Life’ is a story in verse of the rescue and re-homing of her beloved border terrier, Dolly Daydream, while the second and third were both written in conjunction with the poet Dan Lake.
Her latest character Miss Twizzy is about to be published and hopefully be in the shops for Christmas 2013
At the moment she is working on a collection of fantasy poetry that will appeal the child in all of us.
For winter I wear black. not one spark of colour shall break my mourning for this season of death. It speaks of the way I feel inside; the chill stab of sorrow, the darkness of hurt long concealed.
There will be no yellow until daffodils appear; no blue until the bluebells, no pink until the cherry blossoms scatter their petals over the long-thawed land to make way for the coming of the goddess of spring.
Black is the opposite of white, of the flat white snow; black’s like a sheltered cave. Let me hibernate in shadow draw the curtains close my eyes. Wake me only when springtime finally arrives.
***
Sara RussellThanks Robin, Rebekah, Rab & Val… this poem was originally written in 2011 because I never liked the season of winter and suffer from S.A.D., but since the tragic death of my sister this year (early December) it seemed to fit my mood, to post it again online. Trying my best to have a normal Christmas… of course you never know when things are really actually OK until suddenly they’re not, and someone special is gone forever.
***
AKA @pinkyandrexa Poet, Artist, Cartoonist, Goth, Time Traveller. Friend of cats everywhere. Former Editor of Poetry Life & Times. … See also http://creativethinkersintl.ning.com/profile/SaraLouiseRussell plus over a million poetry links online.
***
Sara Louise Russell , whose internet name is “PinkyAndrexa”, is a UK poet who has earned a well-deserved reputation as a highly respected twenty-first century poetry publisher and poet. She was the founder and Editor-in-Chief of Poetry Life & Times, one of the world’s premier poetry E-zines, which ran monthly from 1998-2006 under her tutelage. She has always been in on the scene with graphic design, animation, 3D art, web design, sign writing, photography, film and poetry recital videos. Sara is founder and current editor of Paper Li. Poetry Lifetimes. http://paper.li/pinkyandrexa/1321389290.
Yepper, –and they certainly do! Now listen up, I did not say “ass” so this isn’t a vulgar poem but we are talking
an ancestral home
(O.K., thirty-eight years
is close enough)
almost totally rehabbed,
hers and his caddies
with matching vanity plates
(Yes, there IS a doctor
in the house.
“What kind?” folks ask.
Who the hell cares
besides other insecure doctors?)
Moving along, Social security is their pin money And, you’re right, their place at the shore is in the cheap seats but it’s on the water, in the woods and twenty years paid for. The unintelligent and lazy are wary of them. Still, they are admired by reasonable, hardworking individuals because they are the validation of what is fair and good. 2.
Indeed, they are a fine and generous couple. Her weaknesses are his strengths and, of course, vice versa.
For so many years they struggled through the vagaries of her semi-profitable career, hung in there when the stock market went ever so way down took, and are taking, care of their senile old moms, (and ten stray cats) as they secularly humanistically hug trees and subscribe to Mother Earth.
You bet, those sweet bastards have a tight hold on the glutei maximi of our great planet and they deserve that firm, unrelenting grip. Amen, my friends.
Karen R. Springer
BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF KAREN R. SPRINGER
Karen has been writing poetry since the age of ten. She has three, as to date, unpublished anthologies: 101 Speakings of the Giddy Gypsy, High Noon and My Pistol’s Smoking, and Getting There. Much of her energy for the past forty years has been devoted to her career as an administrator in several southern New Jersey school districts where she served as superintendent and/ or principal. Her degrees include a BA and MAT in Music; as well as an MA and Ed.D in Public School Administration.
After her formal “retirement” from public education, Dr. Springer served as Senior Director of Academic Affairs at thecollege level, an award winning after school/summer administrator in an urban setting; as well as Head Master of a private school. She is currently an education consultant who lives happily with her husband of 41 years. They both enjoy their rustic summer home in the woods at the Jersey shore. She also loves going to the opera; as well as singing it. Karen has recorded a CD of her original song entitled, “Bipolar, Brite, and Blue”.
This feisty lady summarizes herself in the opening quatrain of her poem, “The Good Ol’ Girl”:
I’m just a simple good ol’ girl who drinks her coffee black Sips scotch as strong as iodine and drives a Cadillac.
