Read Poem: Erstwhile Enemies by Christopher Hickey

When I look above the treeline,

I see the clouds opening,

just enough.

A gull embraces flight,

and I track it across the late afternoon sky.

The clouds are indecisive.

Rain? Sun? Neither.

Just the remainder of a day heading to meet a dusk secret.

Hushed by heated water vapor escaping into the air.

Other birds chirp, and I do not know their names.

They gather twigs, harvest insects.

Nature is a busy industry,

defiant of encroaching societies.

Then!

A random Monarch Butterfly oscillates past me.

I’m captured in its tractor beam, by its in-flight movie.

A solitary being.

An independant film, full of beauty and lessons.

Evocative.

A meddling midwife, this butterfly.

Pulling daft dullness from my wounded womb.

Clearing the ledger of my mind.

Musing.

Stultification usurped by creative energy, passion, and fury.

Oscillating.

Rebirth, one fluttering wing at a time.

Oceans away, waves search for the moon’s gravity.

Somewhat certain of its existence, despite passing doubts.

Lunar lulling rhythm,

playing sessions of seasons.

The dark side of the moon pulls the purse strings of treasured guilt.

Also, certain of its existence.

A feeling flowing as thick as honey, but as vile as vinegar to an unsuspecting palate.

Read Poem: order order stop disorder by Dr.Y.P.Kalra

Genre: traditional values eulogized

even when the world smothers thousand shocks
we must all stand bold errect hard as rocks;
this world has falsities vanities most optimum
witness we most nasty rapacious rebellious reactions;
every way every where the gutters are open overflowing
stinking social sharks are on every street dominating:
scorpions,dragons,dungeons,draculas ransack all corners
monsters,maniacals,mephistophils,monkeys,morphine suppliers;
shuttles down honesty,morality,modesty,honesty, sincerity
shops open immorality,nudity,prolixity promiscuity,profanity:
where are temples,oh you Man they are only raping gamboling places
priests,teachers,doctors,ministers,preachers all have gods displaces.

A Footnote to Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ By Parveen Talpur

The Desert Woman

I remember,

Within the loose circle of a veil

A face strong, striking and pale

Bearing a Sphinx-like riddle

Its expression stoic, features intriguing

Chiseled sharply by piercing winds

Tanned darkly by the blazing sun

It called for a poet to feel its solidity

A historian to read the history engraved on it

In isolation it stood, in distance it was lost

Leaving its imprint on my memory

All these years after it keeps haunting

The only feature in the vast monotony of that desert

A rare ore amidst the grains of sand

Unread, unnoticed, unnamed

Insignificant and opposite of Ozymandias’ fame

Poetry Reading: Knight and Dragon by BRIAN T. SLUGA

Performed by Val Cole

*****

Producer: Matthew Toffolo http://www.matthewtoffolo.com

Director: Kierston Drier

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Camera Op: Mary Cox

Poetry Reading: MEAN GIRLS by Linda R. O’Connell

Performed by Val Cole

*****

Producer: Matthew Toffolo http://www.matthewtoffolo.com

Director: Kierston Drier

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Camera Op: Mary Cox

Poetry Reading: MORONIC MOTORISTS, BY JOHN ROSS HARVEY

 

Performed by Val Cole

*****

Producer: Matthew Toffolo http://www.matthewtoffolo.com

Director: Kierston Drier

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Camera Op: Mary Cox

Read Poem: TO THE GIRL WITH THE RED BRACELET by Jack Peachum

(Fragment)

Quietly,
you looked back.
I think you will go
when you meant to stay.
Red bracelet,
I am not yet water under the bridge,
I am not the horny traveler–
and you are not a red thread
to tie round my heart!

Read Poem: Reflections on Ties That Bind by Jan Little

If marriage offered a narrow tether like Denmark’s attachment to Europe,
I could have conformed that much to a husband’s wants
And gladly given all that connected me to him along that shared side,
Yet still have space to feel whole within myself
With time alone to welcome sunrises.

But in an era of coupledom,
Children, churches, friends appear as too tight enclosures
Like that of landlocked Poland vulnerable in its total connection to others.
The need for time to self-define would have pulled at those seams
I chose to sew myself into

—So, torn between need to soar with dragonflies
Or serve those who had depended on me, would leave me
Only ever be a halfling to them and to me.
And I would self-bind myself to a tree of love and know that
That to break even one branch to see the sunset
Directly and with no filter would break a dear heart.

Always my need to meander and to become
A nomadic jig-sawed raft, like Ireland, separated just enough
Would cause wars over custodial privileges—But after a while,
Loneliness would lead me to dock ports of serial monogamies
Until the yen to roam again arrived to leave
Those voices waking me from seaside talks with mermaids.

Yet love’s allure—to matter most to another—
To have another matter most to me–
Still calls to me as Penelope’s steadfastness
Did to Odysseus—
Like him, I could happily winter in love’s arms
With freedom to sail in spring’s seas.

Poetry Reading: THE COMPLEX MAN by Joy Genauer

Narrator: Kate Fenton
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Producer: Matthew Toffolo http://www.matthewtoffolo.com

Director: Kierston Drier

Casting Director: Sean Ballantyne

Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Camera Op: Mary Cox