The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 08.04.12
“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.” ~ Gore Vidal
The Face (above) by featured artist, Edward Ödwitt.
One could never use enough reminding of the artistic tools that are your hand and pen. So with that being said, we present to you this month's featured artist, Edward Ödwitt. Edward uses nothing but, you guessed it, his hand and pen. With an imagination like his, we don't think he'd need much more. The strange, cartoon-y, Alice In Wonderland-y, acid trip-y works of Ödwitt seems to fit right in with our swirling madness. But don't take our word for it, take a gander! Step right up, click away and down the rabbit hole you'll go... go... go! ~ Maddi O
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we couched a big question in a boistrous beat; we wavered, wizened by the win, but (after some words from our sponsor) did not concede the war; we toiled near death for daily breath; we listened to a laureate incite actions of an inappropriate nature; we shuddered from snow fall in this simmering Summer, awaiting the showers of Spring; we waved a white flag, not surrender, but insurrection; lastly we dropped our guards to grab beauty and a clear consciousness (no brains, no headache). It's all downhill from here... ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Dirt & Dust
How beautiful this world is,
when you stop fighting fate
and embrace the dirt and dust.
The only imperfections in it,
are these thoughts - this consciousness.
- J. H. Martin
(1 poem added 08.04.12)
editor's note: When from ashes comes this blink of life, live so our dust makes the dirt sing. Don't give it another thought. - mh
Easter for Agnostics
All faith is bet
on unaccountable numbers.
On any given day,
violets born in the garden
are beheaded before
their first communion
As softened hands, slip
from pastel pockets
to hand out bibles or
eviction letters.
But on this Easter day,
it’s not a day for being bold,
for standing where
a small crowd sits,
for passing the tray untouched,
for opened eyes
in disbelief
among so many closed.
Like sheep,
we still wear white to sleep,
the color of surrender.
- Stephanie Bradbury
(added 08.03.12)
editor's note: Let's change the paradigm; use that white flag as canvas for rainbow colors and provocative words. We will never surrender! - mh
REPORT ON THE NIGHTLY NEWS
Wind rattles the branches,
as I toy with tea and toast,
and make incoherent notes.
I’m waiting for spring.
Life moves from one
state of mind to another,
like those Polish dolls,
encased inside each other.
Crows screech like crazed bees.
As the stars die, they speak,
but do they speak to me?
What they say is a mystery.
Night closes like a fist,
and a heavy snow begins to fall.
Even the trees are shaking.
But that will not be all.
- George Freek
(added 08.02.12)
editor's note: When all news is bad news, best to turn off the TV and hunker down 'til the menace passes. - mh
ATMOSPHERE
Hooray for I am here to destroy
This night of hi-jinx and tomfoolery
With my barbed criticisms of modern living
And tales of ordinary madness
I am the laureate of the under-class
Who has come to attack this galaxy of earths and stars
With words and actions of an inappropriate nature
The poet with the mostest!
- Bradford Middleton
(1 poem added 08.01.12)
editor's note: Yes! Mask this mundane miasma with words and actions of an inappropriate nature. It's time to clear the air! - mh
human misery
(inspired by the painting of the same name by Paul Gauguin)
it isn’t a life of toil in a field
picking grapes for some
one else to eat
it isn’t death
standing to the side
almost a shadow on the
periphery of existence
it is the daily anguish
caused by waking & taking
breath
gauguin understood
- William Wright Harris
(1 poem added 07.31.12)
editor's note: An ekphrastic appeal; what ever it is or it isn't, it's ours to live as we will. (We welcome William to our conclave of Contributing Poets with this posting. Check out his new page.) - mh
our dreams suffocated by the light emitted by the late night television screen
the working day is over
we make it home
tired, confused,
staggering back
haggard and beaten
after performing
our routine
the one we repeat
every day
almost 365 days a year
stripping off
the uniform
whether it be
company provided or
smart casual
we step beneath
the shower
letting warm water
wash away
the grime
the dirt
the pollution
the stains
of the last nine
or so hours
but the odour
of work still lingers
it always does
dried, refreshed
we collapse
ready meal on lap
in front of the box
our dreams suffocated
by the light emitted
by the late night television screen
we know,
and they know,
they’ve won
- James D Quinton
(added 07.30.12)
editor's note: OK, maybe this battle, but, damn, surely not the war!? Live the story, be the dream - so what if we're tired, we'll sleep when we're dead. - mh
Gimme a Beat
The beat resonating from
The barrier of my played heart
A track that can only play once
Yet it’s making me repeat
Rhythms hasten to a struggling finale
Tempos splash threatening against life
Harmonious notes crush asunder
Faint, fading bars crunch
My heart numbs in screeching echoes
Struggling for the right pitch, falsetto
Layers of melodic pulses, waves
Bang within the crevasses of my track
I’m not a master, but I’m mastering and mixing
A production incredibly grand without a conductor
Please gimme a beat
- Allen Qing Yuan
(1 poem added 07.29.12)
editor's note: Out of cacophony comes a cadence, manifest in the slapping of syllables onto otherwise still and silent air. The answer is in the appeal. - mh
•••••••••••
The whole Mad Swirl of everything to come keeps on keepin' on... now... now... NOW! Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year, every decade, every every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Not Givin' a Damn,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
One could never use enough reminding of the artistic tools that are your hand and pen. So with that being said, we present to you this month's featured artist, Edward Ödwitt. Edward uses nothing but, you guessed it, his hand and pen. With an imagination like his, we don't think he'd need much more. The strange, cartoon-y, Alice In Wonderland-y, acid trip-y works of Ödwitt seems to fit right in with our swirling madness. But don't take our word for it, take a gander! Step right up, click away and down the rabbit hole you'll go... go... go! ~ Maddi O
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we couched a big question in a boistrous beat; we wavered, wizened by the win, but (after some words from our sponsor) did not concede the war; we toiled near death for daily breath; we listened to a laureate incite actions of an inappropriate nature; we shuddered from snow fall in this simmering Summer, awaiting the showers of Spring; we waved a white flag, not surrender, but insurrection; lastly we dropped our guards to grab beauty and a clear consciousness (no brains, no headache). It's all downhill from here... ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Dirt & Dust
How beautiful this world is,
when you stop fighting fate
and embrace the dirt and dust.
The only imperfections in it,
are these thoughts - this consciousness.
- J. H. Martin
(1 poem added 08.04.12)
editor's note: When from ashes comes this blink of life, live so our dust makes the dirt sing. Don't give it another thought. - mh
Easter for Agnostics
All faith is bet
on unaccountable numbers.
On any given day,
violets born in the garden
are beheaded before
their first communion
As softened hands, slip
from pastel pockets
to hand out bibles or
eviction letters.
But on this Easter day,
it’s not a day for being bold,
for standing where
a small crowd sits,
for passing the tray untouched,
for opened eyes
in disbelief
among so many closed.
Like sheep,
we still wear white to sleep,
the color of surrender.
- Stephanie Bradbury
(added 08.03.12)
editor's note: Let's change the paradigm; use that white flag as canvas for rainbow colors and provocative words. We will never surrender! - mh
REPORT ON THE NIGHTLY NEWS
Wind rattles the branches,
as I toy with tea and toast,
and make incoherent notes.
I’m waiting for spring.
Life moves from one
state of mind to another,
like those Polish dolls,
encased inside each other.
Crows screech like crazed bees.
As the stars die, they speak,
but do they speak to me?
What they say is a mystery.
Night closes like a fist,
and a heavy snow begins to fall.
Even the trees are shaking.
But that will not be all.
- George Freek
(added 08.02.12)
editor's note: When all news is bad news, best to turn off the TV and hunker down 'til the menace passes. - mh
ATMOSPHERE
Hooray for I am here to destroy
This night of hi-jinx and tomfoolery
With my barbed criticisms of modern living
And tales of ordinary madness
I am the laureate of the under-class
Who has come to attack this galaxy of earths and stars
With words and actions of an inappropriate nature
The poet with the mostest!
- Bradford Middleton
(1 poem added 08.01.12)
editor's note: Yes! Mask this mundane miasma with words and actions of an inappropriate nature. It's time to clear the air! - mh
human misery
(inspired by the painting of the same name by Paul Gauguin)
it isn’t a life of toil in a field
picking grapes for some
one else to eat
it isn’t death
standing to the side
almost a shadow on the
periphery of existence
it is the daily anguish
caused by waking & taking
breath
gauguin understood
- William Wright Harris
(1 poem added 07.31.12)
editor's note: An ekphrastic appeal; what ever it is or it isn't, it's ours to live as we will. (We welcome William to our conclave of Contributing Poets with this posting. Check out his new page.) - mh
our dreams suffocated by the light emitted by the late night television screen
the working day is over
we make it home
tired, confused,
staggering back
haggard and beaten
after performing
our routine
the one we repeat
every day
almost 365 days a year
stripping off
the uniform
whether it be
company provided or
smart casual
we step beneath
the shower
letting warm water
wash away
the grime
the dirt
the pollution
the stains
of the last nine
or so hours
but the odour
of work still lingers
it always does
dried, refreshed
we collapse
ready meal on lap
in front of the box
our dreams suffocated
by the light emitted
by the late night television screen
we know,
and they know,
they’ve won
- James D Quinton
(added 07.30.12)
editor's note: OK, maybe this battle, but, damn, surely not the war!? Live the story, be the dream - so what if we're tired, we'll sleep when we're dead. - mh
Gimme a Beat
The beat resonating from
The barrier of my played heart
A track that can only play once
Yet it’s making me repeat
Rhythms hasten to a struggling finale
Tempos splash threatening against life
Harmonious notes crush asunder
Faint, fading bars crunch
My heart numbs in screeching echoes
Struggling for the right pitch, falsetto
Layers of melodic pulses, waves
Bang within the crevasses of my track
I’m not a master, but I’m mastering and mixing
A production incredibly grand without a conductor
Please gimme a beat
- Allen Qing Yuan
(1 poem added 07.29.12)
editor's note: Out of cacophony comes a cadence, manifest in the slapping of syllables onto otherwise still and silent air. The answer is in the appeal. - mh
•••••••••••
The whole Mad Swirl of everything to come keeps on keepin' on... now... now... NOW! Every second, every minute, every hour, every day, every week, every month, every year, every decade, every every EVERY there is! Wanna join in the poetic conversations going on in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum? Then stop by whenever the mood strikes! We'll be here...
Not Givin' a Damn,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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