The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 10.12.12
“I do not paint a portrait to look like the subject, rather does the person grow to look like his portrait.” ~ Salvador Dali
soul of women (above) by this month's featured artist Toni Martin.
We here at Mad Swirl are honored to present to you our newest addition to the Mad Gallery... and this month's featured artist... Toni Martin. Immediately these wondrously wondrous works of Martin's caught our eye. Tell us if you can tell why. (hint: swirlingly surrealistic colors dripping and splattered; more than just a hint of madness; and a whole lot of talent!) Toni's canvases certainly have that certain shine. Just take a deep look in the sparkling eyes of her many muses and you too will lose yourself in her (a lot) edgy and (a little) eerie masterpieces. Are you ready? Set? Go...! ~ Madelyn Olson
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we indulged in a bit o' dog day dawdling, stretched summer into a swirl of sky; we were caught in the light of cathedrals and confetti birds; we incited envy, the living to the dead; we did not deride the dead for a decision misunderstood, live and let live; we bore a brunt of bitterness, maiden bereft of bird, embracing death, her only love, alas; we cheered a choice, this time to chide death and live; we evinced a voluptuous vision, rescued from cathode ray confusion. Hmph! Nothing "same old same" about esto extraño semana to me. Was it strange for you? ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Same old same
Venus is fading
like smoke
drifting
from a cigarette.
I’m out, looking
down the terrace row
that’s flanked by Venus
nightly.
Static structures cage me.
Damn them
and that glow
from the chlorine polluted baths,
cathedral high. Bleached
orange skylights
lead to a distorted heaven
and Venus disguised by pigeon muck.
Across the wasteland
windows flicker. Televisions
are strewn like dandelion seeds
planting their numbing attraction. Venus
is as rare as frog’s teeth
in people’s minds. I look to the sky,
chest open, then sigh as I see
Venus yet again.
23/3/12
- Michael Holme
(1 poem added 10.12.12)
editor's note: The seductive siren, faded and fouled. Her song, too faint to arrest attentions; all eyes and ears attuned to the television toccata. - mh
Spectrum
A red gold scandal burns through the dynasty
in shameless double-crossing absurdity.
The autumn ribbon tentacles conviction,
a noose for bloodless asylum.
What color complements resignation?
I'll wear that one as my smile, painting
stippled strokes of sunset over Vaseline teeth.
Step back, Sigmund; behold my Impressionist's quivered hand.
Diminished by pink elixirs and corsets stained Prussian blue,
I suffocate in tea-soaked aprons of muddy bloodlines and
masks of maladjustment.
Casting off the costume of wilted Tennessee Williams,
I seize a crown of olive branches as a daughter of delusion.
I'm not above swallowing capsuled prisms to temper
swerving shards of dismal cliché crashing on salted slate in spiral despair.
I drown in the tumult of my rabbi's color code.
Nails gripping polished rock, cold knives over
33 floors of black granite, dead sexy.
Hang on, says the silver voice inside my head. Tonight
there's a chance of salvation over panoramic downtown
views of the mango salsa drug transportation along too-aqua
edges of Biscayne Bay so today
I'll deny the yellow jump.
- Elisabeth Smith Wood
(added 10.12.12)
editor's note: Before you take that leap, faith lost, determination foundered; look around, enjoy the view. - mh
Alone in the Mist
Dost trickle from
One deeply pooled eye,
A tear,
Warm and steadily falling.
Drip once to the ground and spread wide
Did the heart of her emotions.
Cry long did she,
Upon hours and days
Crying wishes for love to return.
Wander the Earth
In a misty haze, did she,
Fair beauty,
O’ maiden.
Her only companion,
One feather softed dove
Until leave did he also, o’ cruelty.
Alas Fallen angel,
Dear maiden, so dear
Alone must you suffer
Until Death’s nigh
End.
- Gemma Kelly
(added 10.11.12)
editor's note: A sad tale and a tear for love lorn and only death's companion. - mh
Untimely suicide
Growing alone in dark corners
Where the monsters always seem to find you.
You scream out, but no one’s there
And in the end, you find out.
No one ever was.
Solutions appear unreasonable to others,
But for you it seemed the only escape.
It’s complicated to function in this society.
When the truly mad
Run the madhouses.
A perfectly tightened noose
In a closed closet waiting for
Your death.
People sullen and unhappy about the outcome
Of your existence.
A beautiful young girl spread out in a casket.
Waiting for her prince who never showed up
To save her from herself.
- R.A. Hernandez
(1 poem added 10.10.12)
editor's note: Sad when, with no succouring saviour, tendency, taken to conclusion, tells no good time. - mh
Maria
Bobby! For crying out loud!
Your cousin Maria is beautiful!
I just talked with her on the phone.
She’s also brilliant and very personable.
I can tell she’s caring and loving,
thoughtful, considerate, and kind.
I found her picture up on Facebook.
Dude! I’m not kidding!
Oh my God, she’s simply beautiful!
You should see her, you’ve got to see her.
What have you done?
Where have you gone?
You’d be so happy to still be around
just to spend some time
with your cousin Maria,
to see her, talk with her, touch her hand,
breathe the same air she breathes.
I know you would. I know it.
Bobby! For crying out loud!
- Michael Estabrook
(1 poem added 10.09.12)
editor's note: These moments, friends long gone. How to share? Like this: Speak into the air. - mh
Paper Confetti Birds
The concepts of an eating station
were emerging
Two-tone vile segment
inching along the alabaster
weekends, merged with birds to men.
The chair leaks out of my hand
I am an orphan sail in this cathedral
of lights –
whispers are the language of these
rooms.
A girl once watched me enter
from shadows.
Her pastel Rosemary, her scrutiny,
stuck into the wood of the table
her aluminum body, razor sharp
against the clocks that I had
brought with me
Paper confetti birds lighting
the room.
- Zachary Scott Hamilton
(added 10.08.12)
editor's note: Sharp scrutiny for dull time. Feed these birds and risk starvation. - mh
TWO IN AUGUST
Reminding ourselves
to capture
first light
before the dog days
along weathered trees
are swollen with pine nuts
tangled leaves
and Autumn's brightness,
when a hundred nests
of squirrels and hornets
hide their first hours
in the dry meadows
on greensward grass
at day break
keeping us quiet
under a solitary sun
by a stammering wind
off the sea coast
as gulls swirl
in the sky's blue veils.
- B.Z. Niditch
(1 poem added 10.07.12)
editor's note: Did you? It's not too late to hijack a squirrel or be hijacked by the breeze. - 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...
Paintin' Portraits,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
We here at Mad Swirl are honored to present to you our newest addition to the Mad Gallery... and this month's featured artist... Toni Martin. Immediately these wondrously wondrous works of Martin's caught our eye. Tell us if you can tell why. (hint: swirlingly surrealistic colors dripping and splattered; more than just a hint of madness; and a whole lot of talent!) Toni's canvases certainly have that certain shine. Just take a deep look in the sparkling eyes of her many muses and you too will lose yourself in her (a lot) edgy and (a little) eerie masterpieces. Are you ready? Set? Go...! ~ Madelyn Olson
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we indulged in a bit o' dog day dawdling, stretched summer into a swirl of sky; we were caught in the light of cathedrals and confetti birds; we incited envy, the living to the dead; we did not deride the dead for a decision misunderstood, live and let live; we bore a brunt of bitterness, maiden bereft of bird, embracing death, her only love, alas; we cheered a choice, this time to chide death and live; we evinced a voluptuous vision, rescued from cathode ray confusion. Hmph! Nothing "same old same" about esto extraño semana to me. Was it strange for you? ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Same old same
Venus is fading
like smoke
drifting
from a cigarette.
I’m out, looking
down the terrace row
that’s flanked by Venus
nightly.
Static structures cage me.
Damn them
and that glow
from the chlorine polluted baths,
cathedral high. Bleached
orange skylights
lead to a distorted heaven
and Venus disguised by pigeon muck.
Across the wasteland
windows flicker. Televisions
are strewn like dandelion seeds
planting their numbing attraction. Venus
is as rare as frog’s teeth
in people’s minds. I look to the sky,
chest open, then sigh as I see
Venus yet again.
23/3/12
- Michael Holme
(1 poem added 10.12.12)
editor's note: The seductive siren, faded and fouled. Her song, too faint to arrest attentions; all eyes and ears attuned to the television toccata. - mh
Spectrum
A red gold scandal burns through the dynasty
in shameless double-crossing absurdity.
The autumn ribbon tentacles conviction,
a noose for bloodless asylum.
What color complements resignation?
I'll wear that one as my smile, painting
stippled strokes of sunset over Vaseline teeth.
Step back, Sigmund; behold my Impressionist's quivered hand.
Diminished by pink elixirs and corsets stained Prussian blue,
I suffocate in tea-soaked aprons of muddy bloodlines and
masks of maladjustment.
Casting off the costume of wilted Tennessee Williams,
I seize a crown of olive branches as a daughter of delusion.
I'm not above swallowing capsuled prisms to temper
swerving shards of dismal cliché crashing on salted slate in spiral despair.
I drown in the tumult of my rabbi's color code.
Nails gripping polished rock, cold knives over
33 floors of black granite, dead sexy.
Hang on, says the silver voice inside my head. Tonight
there's a chance of salvation over panoramic downtown
views of the mango salsa drug transportation along too-aqua
edges of Biscayne Bay so today
I'll deny the yellow jump.
- Elisabeth Smith Wood
(added 10.12.12)
editor's note: Before you take that leap, faith lost, determination foundered; look around, enjoy the view. - mh
Alone in the Mist
Dost trickle from
One deeply pooled eye,
A tear,
Warm and steadily falling.
Drip once to the ground and spread wide
Did the heart of her emotions.
Cry long did she,
Upon hours and days
Crying wishes for love to return.
Wander the Earth
In a misty haze, did she,
Fair beauty,
O’ maiden.
Her only companion,
One feather softed dove
Until leave did he also, o’ cruelty.
Alas Fallen angel,
Dear maiden, so dear
Alone must you suffer
Until Death’s nigh
End.
- Gemma Kelly
(added 10.11.12)
editor's note: A sad tale and a tear for love lorn and only death's companion. - mh
Untimely suicide
Growing alone in dark corners
Where the monsters always seem to find you.
You scream out, but no one’s there
And in the end, you find out.
No one ever was.
Solutions appear unreasonable to others,
But for you it seemed the only escape.
It’s complicated to function in this society.
When the truly mad
Run the madhouses.
A perfectly tightened noose
In a closed closet waiting for
Your death.
People sullen and unhappy about the outcome
Of your existence.
A beautiful young girl spread out in a casket.
Waiting for her prince who never showed up
To save her from herself.
- R.A. Hernandez
(1 poem added 10.10.12)
editor's note: Sad when, with no succouring saviour, tendency, taken to conclusion, tells no good time. - mh
Maria
Bobby! For crying out loud!
Your cousin Maria is beautiful!
I just talked with her on the phone.
She’s also brilliant and very personable.
I can tell she’s caring and loving,
thoughtful, considerate, and kind.
I found her picture up on Facebook.
Dude! I’m not kidding!
Oh my God, she’s simply beautiful!
You should see her, you’ve got to see her.
What have you done?
Where have you gone?
You’d be so happy to still be around
just to spend some time
with your cousin Maria,
to see her, talk with her, touch her hand,
breathe the same air she breathes.
I know you would. I know it.
Bobby! For crying out loud!
- Michael Estabrook
(1 poem added 10.09.12)
editor's note: These moments, friends long gone. How to share? Like this: Speak into the air. - mh
Paper Confetti Birds
The concepts of an eating station
were emerging
Two-tone vile segment
inching along the alabaster
weekends, merged with birds to men.
The chair leaks out of my hand
I am an orphan sail in this cathedral
of lights –
whispers are the language of these
rooms.
A girl once watched me enter
from shadows.
Her pastel Rosemary, her scrutiny,
stuck into the wood of the table
her aluminum body, razor sharp
against the clocks that I had
brought with me
Paper confetti birds lighting
the room.
- Zachary Scott Hamilton
(added 10.08.12)
editor's note: Sharp scrutiny for dull time. Feed these birds and risk starvation. - mh
TWO IN AUGUST
Reminding ourselves
to capture
first light
before the dog days
along weathered trees
are swollen with pine nuts
tangled leaves
and Autumn's brightness,
when a hundred nests
of squirrels and hornets
hide their first hours
in the dry meadows
on greensward grass
at day break
keeping us quiet
under a solitary sun
by a stammering wind
off the sea coast
as gulls swirl
in the sky's blue veils.
- B.Z. Niditch
(1 poem added 10.07.12)
editor's note: Did you? It's not too late to hijack a squirrel or be hijacked by the breeze. - 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...
Paintin' Portraits,
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
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