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Today

Today

(Mark it in the diary -
then throw the diary away..) :

Today dawned with the unusual
wrapped intriguingly in the familiar;
a freshness unidentifiable;
a promise, that promised
nothing specific:

as if I walk in a world
whose infinite complexity
is no problem;
its multiplicity, a straightforward matter;

which delivers something hoped for
and yet never formulated with real meaning:
simplicity;

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Paying Your Dues Doesn't Always Improve

Some show scars that have been done.
Some have taught you the wisdom to overcome and move on.
Everyone must pay their penance when it comes due.
Their are no exceptions, not even you.
But the amount paid will vary as some times the canary sings and sometimes not.
A beautiful hymn not easily forgot.
But they are those who still do.
A hard lesson is one that is continuous repeated.
Like history a time line of facts and theories tried and proven.
But still they are those who believe they can rewrite it.
But even upon this somethings won't change.
They are rules to everything in life.
Some are easily bent.
Other are easily prevented.
But some will be as permanent the rock which earth is made out of.
Over, under, and straight through failure after failure with re-approach we come to.
Some brick walls just can't be pounded out.
A strategy must be formulated to overcome these difficulties.
A weakness is a unknown valuable asset, in our course of follow throughs.
Thought to be golden in a time of futile moments.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Alive, Aware And Free

A lie-detector expert, Clive Baxter, attached
polygraph machines to philodendron leaves,
tracings showed typical responses obtained
when subject to brief emotional stimulation,
he decided to burn a leaf and the tracing went
wild showing fright, the plant read the threat
he only formulated in his head!

‘The Secret Life of Plants’ by Christopher Bird
and Peter Tomkins proved that plants respond
to thought, speech and prayer – but scientists
questioned their experiments which could not
be replicated indefinitely, only sensitives elicit
a response from plants which means they found
character determines results

This has been confirmed by quantum physics:
observation influences the object observed as
well as observer, particles follow expectations
appearing as wave or fixed point reacting to pre-

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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0036 Hanging Garden

The pink geraniums
hanging in their plastic terracotta bowl
twist gently to and fro in the slight breeze
as if they’re quietly impatient
for my attention.

It’s their third year up there –
I never expected them to last
more than a year, but
half exposed, half sheltering
under what’s less a porch
than an architectural feature,
they’ve decided to make a go of it

this week in late July moving into August,
they’re into their later style of flowering –
not the profundity of early summer
when they decide exactly when to burst
upon the world petal to petal in a huge bouquet

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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June Anigbogu Creates A Research Paper

After dark the mind plays tricks on you
every metaphor invades the practiced and practical.

And in the luminiscent moonlight,
so deliciously brilliant when all the time you have desired
such luxury from life,
which before now, had not been,
no prince no happy chance to truly
call a trophy romance up 'til this time.
See now, of course how,
Stars dance teasingly. Why now is it, they choose to give you, only you,
careful attention. Sure of course when you are busy working with statistics,
formulas and serious theories. Now they come
to charm you like lovers with smooth soft velvet chocolates,
with gentle words of satin gloved
careful creative reverie!
Yes of all times, now, everything is
so especially for you when you don't have the moments or
the hours, as your professors have warned you of the
calculated risks and impending deadlined graduations.

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poem by LaClaire mitchell nzerem
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A Benediction Of The Air

In every presence there is absence.

When we're together, the spaces between
Threaten to enclose our bodies
And isolate our spirits.
The mirror reflects what we are not,
And we wonder if our mate
Suspects a fatal misreading
Of our original text,
Not to mention the dreaded subtext.
Reality, we fear, mocks appearance.
Or is trapped in a hall of mirrors
Where infinite regress prevents
A grateful egress. That is,
We can never know the meaning
Of being two-in-one,
Or if we are one-in-two.
What-I-Am is grieved at What-I'm-Not.
What-We-Should-Be is numbed by What-We-Are.

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poem by John Williams
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My Safe Place

Drawings of seventy three people,
A map of the place where they all live,
I am amongst these people, and
I can hear them in conversation,
Although nobody who lives outside of this room can-
I have given this place a name- a self-fabricated name-
I have found happiness here
Within this world I call my own.
This is my safe place-
This place where skies are touched with clouds of pink and gray,
This place where all is quiet, except for the rushing sound
Of the clear water in the creek that runs through.
Here in this place where nobody cares
What time of day people go to sleep or what hour that they awaken-
This is the place where nobody ever gets angry or slights one another-
Here where we dance when it rains and
Where we laugh when the sun is shining over that creek,
But the sun never burns us.
I have locked the silver gate that exits to the world outside,
So that untrustworthy and belligerent people cannot enter-

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poem by Claudia Krizay
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Name Value

What is a name?
What does it mean?

From where does it attain stamina?
From whence are its tactics formulated?

What does it signify when processing
an established aristocratic name-tag?

A name derives authentic revered value; both
individually and collectively; without exception;
sourced upon each birthed or adopted member;
within extended compressed collective; known as family.

Therefore a name stands spot-lighted; solitary in soliloquy;
resting upon inquisitional value; each optimum responsible ranked;
caring moralistic member; associate; places superimposed upon it.

It stands soluble in soprano; resting upon;

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pristine Beauty

The magic woven by Terry Pratchett in ‘Going
Postal' took my mind like a wave invading every
lonely space, filling me with a sense of delight
and the desire to keep on digging for meaning

Since I cannot be content with the mere fact that
I exist in the way Golems can, I have to assign
meaning to everything in order to prevent my
inner self turning from quiet and calm into

A raging torrent of existential dread and my spirit
from acquiring a waiflike quality, moving between
states of consciousness, too confused to choose
between moments of being to settle quietly

Long enough to enjoy the delight of existence as
escape from non-being, it took a while to drag my
mind away from a feeling of guilt about this holiday
and the concomitant fear that a short escape

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Alcuin - 0293

Awhile pray pause who, passing by the way,
Lines cue, are fed into sped changeling's clay.
Can you spring from my fate what your's may be?
Unwound my clock, soon your's locked history!
In spite of this world's gifts, Time's ticks won't stay.
Now here, then there sped, bed from care carefree.

About my fads, what gads on you today,
Leaves cause to trace if grace was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, space race of what Life was to me
In yours may stay, int-urned? All slips away.
No mor[t]al s[l]ips defy Eternity.

Awhile Bede's rosary I beaded, lay
Learning as priority, salvé!
Charlemagne advised and poetry
Unfettered formulated in my see.
Ideal 'truths held self-evident' decay,
Now mocked by some as mere apostasy.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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