Jazz. A Poem by Joan McNerney

 

the kitchen sits

in fruit soup…

steamed apricot

mango shadow
 

down thru spinning

smoke into hot light

blink beat
 

body ends dangle

lead eye skin cement

high on tongue
 

night pasted among

buildings Styrofoam clouds

moon hung beneath billboard

 

rolling pass wet

rocked streets

soul tramp

diamond panhandlers watch

paper birds slices of

the daily news drift in air

 

comes cool ether

whispers up door

climbing dusty corridor

 

tree windows lapping lisp

door slams again noise again

then none void nothing syncopates

noise again door slams tree bare frozen
 

caught in the image of 7 candles

within 7 candles flames of air

7 light bulbs growing out of each other

7 silver circles coined from 7 silver rings
 

clear as blazing sheets

of glass yet

vague as dust

an ice cube on wood table

in front of crushed velvet

    melt

    poured

    peeled

when this sky now boiling with

stars is strapped black

in pinched air thru sucked mind

swimming pass spaced time

will be one silent

note up.
 
 

Vivitar

 

 
 
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.
 
 
 
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Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
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Methuselah Speaks. A Poem by Joan McNerney

 

Living in shadows I scarcely stir.

Each motion brings pain with fear

of falling, breaking brittle bones

or bruising my spider web skin.

 

I see so little. Sunlight blinds my

rheumy eyes. Night dims my world

leaving just vague outlines.

 

Food is stale, bitter. Thirst savage.

No liquids quench me. My bodily

functions often fail befouling me.

 

All these years weigh down my soul.

Hearing faded, everything in whispers.

My breath is raspy, without strength.

 

My mind dull with defeat. I count only

my losses and remember nothing

but the dead. My memory is pain.

 

I cannot celebrate births. My great

grandchildren died so long ago.

Why must I always wait here?

 

God, have you forgotten me?

 
 

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.

Vivitar

 

robin@artvilla.com

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Pursued Poem by Joan McNearney

My dark dreams scatter across asphalt streets. Rain splashes
ebony ink, winds snarling my damp hair. My mind in knots
and snags. Throat dry and raw as I step over cobblestones.
 
It follows me, this long shadow, waiting to cover me,to encompass me.
 
Now I am passing a field. My worn shoes sink into moist grounds.
The soil offers up scents of mild vegetation, promises of spring.
Gusts tangle trees and calls from lost trains resound through night.
 
It follows me, this long shadow, waiting to cover me,to encompass me.
 
I keep climbing a hill. My mind twisted into knots. How can
I breathe? There is no turning back. White walls meet me head-on.
I feel the rough concrete pressing my fingers as I push in.
 
It follows me, this long shadow, waiting to cover me,encompass me.
 
Finally swallowed whole by this black heart of night.
 
 

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.

Vivitar

 

robin@artvilla.com

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Riding Dark Horse Nightmare(3).Poems.Joan McNerney

(i.)

 

to prison library

where sewer

backs up flooding

cages of books

my brains are washed

by a short scientist

 

 detectives trail me

arrested by police

giving up to

handcuffs  ether

 

now on train

calendars peel

off cars

1942   1962   1982

2198   1892   1294

passengers screaming

screaming off track

burning 3rd rail

 

in swamp struggling

to reach green reeds

i   am   a

fixed target

paper duck

*pull trigger*fire pin*thru barrel*into muzzle*

b u l l e t                 s h o t

paper duck

mowed down.

 ***

(ii.)

an executive

 

showed me in

i, shy

as an orphan

 

her charming face

thru sewing room

viewing beige cabinets

bolts of silk

tactical prints

her life in threads

swatches impressive

floral

 

discerning glances

make me hurry

out the rear

but she invited

me only to see

her material things

& feel them

unattainable

 

all handsome houses

have well guarded gardens

lush chrysanthemums

smothering me

dog-faced.

***

(iii.)

“A” train

brassy blue

electric

 

close eyes

watch points

like stars

 

think now

how insignificant

compared to train

speaking for itself

 

stars known

in no language

burn shoot

thru

tiger’s eyes

 

brain in

constant action

reaction

 

to what we do not know

plans of distant stars

galaxies floating as

 

“A” train

silver worm

slides under

big belly

of city

 
 

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.

Vivitar

 

robin@artvilla.com

 
www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes

 
www.artvilla.com/plt