The Best of Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum : 01.05.13
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.” J. R. R. Tolkien
Night Roads (above) by Paul McMillan, one of over 20 featured artists currently coloring the virtual walls in Mad Swirl's eclectic electronic collective Mad Gallery. We know you'll wanna see mo' fo' sho' so move that mad mouse of yours right over here and a-way you'll GO
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we returned to redress regrets on little cat feet; we counted clicks of clock, took stock, then opted for sleep deprivation; we put up, not out, to daze in and sit down to undeserved favor; we got over one, under the other, cuz you can't have your Kate and Edith, too; we traversed a strange space to see a familiar face; we risked the death of a blue suit to achieve a suitable death; we awoke in sweat and screams to escape snakes but not questions of dreams. Dizzy? We return you now to this New Year, which is already in progress! ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Recurring Dream
I’m trudging, alone, in a weird landscape— dry,
yellow straw scattered far off to the vanishing point;
brittle things breaking under the precautious footsteps;
black clouds being churned overhead; the eclipse going in
perhaps for a long nap; the wind howling like
the indignation of my heart; mad— mad thunders
split the dark curtains as if to show me the way; and the gasping field
is about to be all water, but this fucking dream
is only a dream— nothing happens to squeeze the sky
but me: The sparse bare trees transform themselves
into gigantic snakes and fly to me, breaking open
their cave-like mouths. I try to run away but realize
that I'm in the grip of a thousand snakes, all black, glinting
and hissing in the field. Where the hell am I? I scream
only to wake myself in a thorny bed of questions.
- Haris Adhikari
(1 poem added 01.05.13)
editor's note: Not Jung enough to understand; I'll take waking and inquisition. - mh
When the Bullet
When the bullet
Hits the bone’s
Senility...
Pray
For the scar tissue
Not shown,
Unto you;
Least not me.
Ask for...
Fracturing
Prisoners of consciousness
With a hanging tree.
Urging anemia
To sober up fast!
A blue serge’s death
Becomes useless
If candles lit
Fail shadows cast...
Bringing the present
Right back into the past,
Releasing the cellar’s heat at last –
Rising through a snow you’ll never know.
- Adam Kiger
(added 01.04.13)
editor's note: Personal perspectives are best discerned when past actions, like Winter, are frozen in time. Keep that cellar door locked shut. - mh
A journey
Case filled,
buckles snapped shut,
stepping out into the lonely road.
Sitting on the edge of the bed
of a distant hotel,
pausing to gain a moment’s composure,
you invade every crevice of my life,
my dreams, my bed
even my body.
Yet, the secret parts of you
remain mysterious,
as if they belong to another world.
Like everyone else,
I’m trundling along
doing the best
to be happy,
to get the most out of life.
A waft of lemon scent comes to me,
a rare but familiar smell.
I picture you at the door.
- Amy Barry
(added 01.03.13)
editor's note: Packing for a new destination is easy when considering points on this globe. Packing for a journey into a new heart; another story - looking for that checklist, still. - mh
SISTERS
One loves me.
One does not.
I will get over
The one who
Does not
And I will get under
The one who
Does.
- Hal J. Daniel III
(added 01.02.13)
editor's note: When directionally challenged by your new year's puerile preferences, it's "over, under" not "around and through." - mh
Down, out, up, in
I want to crack open every mile and count each foot
of its resolution—time: healer, revealer is also the
quarry where I do my worrying.
I’m not out for it, for milling around in the vagaries of the unknowable
and calling it grace. I want to shake that mother and
be sure about what music it can dance to.
In a daze over so many days—
Depressed. No, not depressed. Yes.
But somehow over the last hurdle,
the latest jumping off place.
I will sit down to dinner and wonder how I get away with
everything I don’t get away with,
being somebody’s fool and nobody’s
feral lover,
put up with and not put out
and sometimes she does.
- Gordon Purkis
(added 01.01.13)
editor's note: A close-up look or a fresh decision; resolution abounds here. Everything one needs for a new year, whether one puts out or not. - mh
Shift
It's only when the ticking stops
and the hairs on his bruised knuckles rise,
that he's reminded of the lurking imps
starving for their daily mischief.
Once time halts and worldly laws askew,
the chain of command dissolves
garbling self awareness, forcing
steps to trips and tumbles.
Tendrils of the dread of predation,
notorious to REM spaces,
jostle him into an angsty fervor
real as his altering corporeal form.
Hierarchy awry and vulnerabilities apparent,
his trained mind fails, burdening him sedentarily
as the mongrels crowd around engulfing
his mortality as he waits to shift eras.
- Miguel Pedraza
(added 12.31.12)
editor's note: So, while we drink champagne and count down the seconds, this is what's really happening? - mh
CAT’S EYES
Kitty leaps in the dark,
scrabbles, spits,
crash of photo frames,
glasses, ashtrays
onto the bare floor.
No one has ever
bothered to tell kitty
she has excellent
night vision –
she’s resigned herself
to groping her
way through the dark,
whiskers fully extended,
sensing only her
soft feline regrets.
- Jeffrey Park
(1 poem added 12.30.12)
editor's note: Poor cats, not very smart, so easily embarassed. As someone said, "No forehead, no brains!" (With this poem, we welcome Jeffrey to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets. See more of his poems on his new page.) - 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...
Waitin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
•••••••••••
This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum... we returned to redress regrets on little cat feet; we counted clicks of clock, took stock, then opted for sleep deprivation; we put up, not out, to daze in and sit down to undeserved favor; we got over one, under the other, cuz you can't have your Kate and Edith, too; we traversed a strange space to see a familiar face; we risked the death of a blue suit to achieve a suitable death; we awoke in sweat and screams to escape snakes but not questions of dreams. Dizzy? We return you now to this New Year, which is already in progress! ~ mh
Just in case you missed it, here's a taste...
Recurring Dream
I’m trudging, alone, in a weird landscape— dry,
yellow straw scattered far off to the vanishing point;
brittle things breaking under the precautious footsteps;
black clouds being churned overhead; the eclipse going in
perhaps for a long nap; the wind howling like
the indignation of my heart; mad— mad thunders
split the dark curtains as if to show me the way; and the gasping field
is about to be all water, but this fucking dream
is only a dream— nothing happens to squeeze the sky
but me: The sparse bare trees transform themselves
into gigantic snakes and fly to me, breaking open
their cave-like mouths. I try to run away but realize
that I'm in the grip of a thousand snakes, all black, glinting
and hissing in the field. Where the hell am I? I scream
only to wake myself in a thorny bed of questions.
- Haris Adhikari
(1 poem added 01.05.13)
editor's note: Not Jung enough to understand; I'll take waking and inquisition. - mh
When the Bullet
When the bullet
Hits the bone’s
Senility...
Pray
For the scar tissue
Not shown,
Unto you;
Least not me.
Ask for...
Fracturing
Prisoners of consciousness
With a hanging tree.
Urging anemia
To sober up fast!
A blue serge’s death
Becomes useless
If candles lit
Fail shadows cast...
Bringing the present
Right back into the past,
Releasing the cellar’s heat at last –
Rising through a snow you’ll never know.
- Adam Kiger
(added 01.04.13)
editor's note: Personal perspectives are best discerned when past actions, like Winter, are frozen in time. Keep that cellar door locked shut. - mh
A journey
Case filled,
buckles snapped shut,
stepping out into the lonely road.
Sitting on the edge of the bed
of a distant hotel,
pausing to gain a moment’s composure,
you invade every crevice of my life,
my dreams, my bed
even my body.
Yet, the secret parts of you
remain mysterious,
as if they belong to another world.
Like everyone else,
I’m trundling along
doing the best
to be happy,
to get the most out of life.
A waft of lemon scent comes to me,
a rare but familiar smell.
I picture you at the door.
- Amy Barry
(added 01.03.13)
editor's note: Packing for a new destination is easy when considering points on this globe. Packing for a journey into a new heart; another story - looking for that checklist, still. - mh
SISTERS
One loves me.
One does not.
I will get over
The one who
Does not
And I will get under
The one who
Does.
- Hal J. Daniel III
(added 01.02.13)
editor's note: When directionally challenged by your new year's puerile preferences, it's "over, under" not "around and through." - mh
Down, out, up, in
I want to crack open every mile and count each foot
of its resolution—time: healer, revealer is also the
quarry where I do my worrying.
I’m not out for it, for milling around in the vagaries of the unknowable
and calling it grace. I want to shake that mother and
be sure about what music it can dance to.
In a daze over so many days—
Depressed. No, not depressed. Yes.
But somehow over the last hurdle,
the latest jumping off place.
I will sit down to dinner and wonder how I get away with
everything I don’t get away with,
being somebody’s fool and nobody’s
feral lover,
put up with and not put out
and sometimes she does.
- Gordon Purkis
(added 01.01.13)
editor's note: A close-up look or a fresh decision; resolution abounds here. Everything one needs for a new year, whether one puts out or not. - mh
Shift
It's only when the ticking stops
and the hairs on his bruised knuckles rise,
that he's reminded of the lurking imps
starving for their daily mischief.
Once time halts and worldly laws askew,
the chain of command dissolves
garbling self awareness, forcing
steps to trips and tumbles.
Tendrils of the dread of predation,
notorious to REM spaces,
jostle him into an angsty fervor
real as his altering corporeal form.
Hierarchy awry and vulnerabilities apparent,
his trained mind fails, burdening him sedentarily
as the mongrels crowd around engulfing
his mortality as he waits to shift eras.
- Miguel Pedraza
(added 12.31.12)
editor's note: So, while we drink champagne and count down the seconds, this is what's really happening? - mh
CAT’S EYES
Kitty leaps in the dark,
scrabbles, spits,
crash of photo frames,
glasses, ashtrays
onto the bare floor.
No one has ever
bothered to tell kitty
she has excellent
night vision –
she’s resigned herself
to groping her
way through the dark,
whiskers fully extended,
sensing only her
soft feline regrets.
- Jeffrey Park
(1 poem added 12.30.12)
editor's note: Poor cats, not very smart, so easily embarassed. As someone said, "No forehead, no brains!" (With this poem, we welcome Jeffrey to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets. See more of his poems on his new page.) - 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...
Waitin',
Johnny O
Editor-in-chief
MH Clay
Poetry Editor
Comments