Author: poetryfest

and he
ragged
without teeth and leg
leaned
on his one floundering . . .
reached his hand
to her
his eyes asking not to be seen
his soul asking to be caressed
his body asking to be at rest
and she
head tilted down
peeked shyly
and gave adime
she smiledfrowned
almostcried
and he
headdown
wishing it were up
looked into her
avertedface
and said
godblessyou
and thought
godblessyou

At fourteen. I used to sneak out.

To go see Frankie. Frankie was homeless.

He was 17.

I would sneak snacks from the fridge.

To feed my boyfriend Frankie.

We would sleep in his car til 4am.

I’d get home before I got caught.

One time I got caught. I got the worst whooping ever.

And my dad took all my Christmas presents.

For two months straight, I was grounded.

I still snuck out. To see Frankie.
…………………………………………………………
My daughter is 14.

Her Dad is Frankie. We’re married.

We have a big house on the hillside.

I guess the punishment was worth it.

Sometimes I battened my talent down,
like a woman hiding a pregnancy.
But in that cold house where I could see
the breath in front of my face,
Ariel demanded to be born.
And in the blue mood of early morning
my children sleeping in another room,
I communed with my disquieting muse.
My golem,
so cunning, so full of trickery.

A volcano of poetry erupted,
and she sucked me down
into the dizzying red of creation.
My clever Thought Fox had been cheating,
eating my excellent cooking,
calling his mistress on the phone,
While I built my false Nirvana.

New baby, end of marriage.
I was losing my milk,
feared I would lose my mind.
This world made a meal of me,
but I triumphed anyway.
Cooked the books,
gave the world a bellyache.
I was a witch by then,
living on air.
30

The icy glitter of my despair,
caught the light on the way down.
Poem after poem spilling on to the page,
waiting in my study like unexploded bombs,
while I lay my head on a towel in the oven,
(so clean, so industrious, so efficient),
and the gas filled my lungs.
It was a scientific decision;
science always made me panic.
It reminded me of my father.

The moon looked down.
She gave no sign and I, myself,
had never expected help from that
quarter.
Later the Thought Fox tore some
pages out of my journals.

I should have burned them.
Eaten the ashes.

I killed the Good Girl,
in that freezing house;
left my children cups of milk.
Then I left my body and travelled down to
the sea floor,
where my crippled father lived.
The tall girl who swam out to sea
but could not drown,
was breathing water at last.
Under a shimmering, seaweed sky.

Circles that flash with pleasures of fire,
Fire that shoots to bowels and brain;
Circles of soft and slippery pleasure,
Circles that fill and circles that drain.

Circles touching with sinewy softness,
Softness as hard as ramrod or stake;
Circles that sweep to planet’ry heavens,
Circles to dream as if never to wake.

Circles as soft as the touch of fine silk,
Silk fine and smooth as the slimmest of sheaths;
Circles a-swirl with wondrous tingles,
Circles that fail to remember one breathes.

Circles that drown in riotous colours,
Colours in combat, in glorious strife;
Circles cry out the meaning of loving,
Circles in death, exploding to life!

Edmund Jonah

My mother, my confidant, my friend
I do not want to lose you
I want to hold you close
Clutching your body to mine
But I am afraid of breaking
Those fragile bones
That hold you so loosely together
I do not want my great need of you
To hold you to a life that
No longer has meaning
What regrets do you have
As you look back on your life
What changes would you make
Would you have used
Different threads
In the tapestry that you wove
It has been a difficult life
Not one filled with as much love
As it could have been
Yet you endured
And gave us love
Did you keep going
More for us than yourself
I see you getting weaker
With each passing day
The oxygen tubing
That binds your life to ours
Becomes more strained
And less efficient
As you struggle for each breath
Do not hold on for me
I will survive without you
You have given me your love
Your kindness and your strength
These gifts will be with me always
Your memories I will hold in tender grace
To bring out one by one
As I continue on life’s journey alone
But let me give you my love
And allow you the peace
To take your next step
On your journey to God

The setting sun had gone away
And ended just another day
The silence left by all the birds
Was all my weary ears had heard

I closed the door, turned out the light
Just as the moon appeared at night
Then turned the corner as I do
Most every night, just passing through

I saw a deer just standing there
No motion, movement, anywhere
But just as both our eyes did meet
Brown leaves crunched beneath my feet

With darting speed, amazing pace
He turned his corner, won his race
Up and over, through the woods
My night was done, my night was good

Written by Joey Nicholson
April 18, 2022

http://www.JoeyNicholson.com

—
https://linktr.ee/JoeyNicholson

http://www.JoeyNicholson.com

http://www.wavesofworshipbook.com

http://www.EveryShorePublishing.com

I hear a tick tick,
it’s almost like Jonathan Larson reminding me of the tick tick,
the time that keeps fleeting,
and yet,
In moments of prayer,
in moments of meditation,
time comes back,
time is redeemed,
time is preserved.

In moments of full concentration and full meditation,
time is relieved, relieved, relieved.
the tick tick that we here in our hearts,
the Tick tick that is in our heart beats,
the beats of the heart,
the strings allows for the time to be refurbished,
Refinished,
restarted and replenished,
again and again and again.

by Sarah Volger

https://djvogue.wixsite.com/artislife

Artislife.
LifeisArt.

Performed by Val Cole

THE CHANGELING
By Sharon Lindenburger

You arrived on my doorstep
clad only in your music
We sang a strange duet
A changeling’s song
that would in all strangeness
feed our friendship…for many magical years

We were two orphan souls
who did not know refuge in the world
but found a haven each in the other

Welcoming a changeling
has its dangers
Peril is as nothing
to the exhilaration
of meeting
a wild being
with a fiery glance
and hair of molten silk
whose voice was a fierce grace
though he did not always know this
of himself

Do not woo a changeling
unless you desire
to be shaken
by the gale winds
of mischief, melancholy, and muse

We were healed by our flowing tears
All the times we sat talking
Beneath a birch tree
That rose shining from its earthen roots
Our lostness was our foundness
and our foundness
was something we could not understand…but still we knew

Performed by Val Cole

THE ENVIRONMENT…, by Jean Bertin ST LOUIS

The hour has arrived for us to act.
You and I, we are both concerned.
Our environment is threatened.
We long to save it, and not see ourselves perish.

As conscious beings,
We must to make life livable in our world
Obeying its natura l laws and principles
Will bring forth a better life.

Our responsibility grows greater and greater,
And our answers less useful, changing day by day.
Oh my God, what then should we a ll do?

Faced with this alarming situation,
Should not we see ourselves as one single family,
Striving for a world that is our only consolation?

Performed by Val Cole

Nobody’s Idol, by Alexandra Lean

I GO FROM NOBODY TO SOMEBODY
TO SOMETHING TO DIE FOR KICK IN THE DOOR,
HERE COMES THE PREDATOR, YOU HEARD ME ROAR,
IT’S THE LION WANTING MORE OF AN ENCORE, ENCORE
SOMEONE’S GOTTA DIE ON THE ROAD TO RICHES
OR DIE TRYIN’ IN AMERICAN STITCHES
IF I SHOULD DIE BEFORE I SELF DESTRUCT
DISORDERLY CONDUCT, WILL ERUPT
DEATH AROUND THE CORNER THE CROWD WILL BE THE MOURNER
I REPORT I’M HYPNOTIZED, DESENSITIZED
CAUSE I TAKE BREATH AFTER BREATH
UNTIL I REALIZE THAT LIFE AFTER DEATH IS LIKE
LATE REGISTRATION FOR ADMIRATION FROM A NATION
OF COLLEGE DROP-OUTS WITH NO DIRECTION
BUT MY DEBT TO SOCIETY IS PAID IN FULL
IN A GREATEST HITS COLLECTION,
MY COMMON RESURRECTION
LIKE GLORIA GAYNOR IT WILL SURVIVE
BY ALL MEANS NECESSARY WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
I’M READY TO DIE YEAH I’M GONNA DIE