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Quickset Quicksand

One name reigns brain aflame, revolves unreined, tight beamed insight
enters, departs, returns round rim, fills brim, spills love's delight.
Light dances, then's sucked out of sight, vibrates as violin
or whirlpool spool top spinning, oscillating out and in.

Shared aims set souls on lightning spin all else forgotten quite,
too long apart, two twin, impart heart whole to reunite
minds' roundabout which flows without Time's sands, yet stays within,
with inhibitions' bowling pins to skittles knocked - win/win.

(22 April 2010)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Cry Aloud

A voice said, 'Cry aloud! '
and I said, “But what shall I cry? ”

Shall I sing to the people
a song of spring,
hills aflame with green,
dry grass igniting
with joy?

In darker days,
when the high meadow fell fallow
and flowers of the valley
dried to dust,
I thought you'd turned
away, took your giving hands
to other lands.

Despairing, I wept,
stung by tears
from angry Hell,

[...] Read more

poem by Steven Federle
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Love and Fragrance

The fragrance of a flower
Like the fragrance of a woman
Is a declaration of fertility
The poetry of seduction

When you hold a flower
When you touch your lover
Traces of the fragrance stay with you
They're ingrained in your skin

Much like the single red rose
Standing alone, erect
Aflame with desire
My passion is only for you

And like a delicate flower
Our love is fueled by a fragrance
A fragrance that is uniquely yours
A scent that demands my attention

[...] Read more

poem by Rick Berry
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The Foot-Hill Resort

Assembled in the parlor
Of the place of last resort,
The smiler and the snarler
And the guests of every sort
The elocution chap
With rhetoric on tap;
The mimic and the funny dog;
The social sponge; the money-hog;
Vulgarian and dude;
And the prude;
The adiposing dame
With pimply face aflame;
The kitten-playful virgin
Vergin' on to fifty years;
The solemn-looking sturgeon
Of a firm of auctioneers;
The widower flirtatious;
The widow all too gracious;
The man with a proboscis and a sepulcher beneath.
One assassin picks the banjo, and another picks his teeth.

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Prophet of Bliss

Don’t be afraid of requesting a kiss
From the boy whose lips you know you’ll miss.
Be he a master of tongues? A prophet of bliss?
Be he foretelling the tale of Heavens distress?
Off into the wilderness he cast a broken shadow,
Knock, you’ll discover he’s hollow. As Ivy
Creeps the grapevines weep whilst we attempt
To keep our calm in composition.

Dance for the hearth, the wings that may lift you.
Dance for the songbird, the songs he may sing for you.
Dance aflame upon the ocean, Keep on dancing,
Chance upon poetry in motion, loose yourself behind the wall of sleep.

poem by David Lacey
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First Graduation Ceremony at IRT PMC

With cap and gown
And scroll in your hand,
You’ve joined an elite band:
A full-blown Doc!

The world needs you
To serve the sick;
A noble duty you must do
And keep aflame the wick.

The world is large
And so its challenges;
Ahead you charge;
Time will solve all problems.

And never forget
Your Alma Mater-
The place that made you
A Doctor.

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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The Home-Coming

This was our house. To this we came
Lighted by love with torch aflame,
And in this chamber, door locked fast,
I held you to my heart at last.

This was our house. In this we knew
The worst that Time and Fate can do.
You left the room bare, wide the door;
You did not love me any more.

Where once the kind warm curtain hung
The spider's ghostly cloth is flung;
The beetle and the woodlouse creep
Where once I loved your lovely sleep.

Yet so the vanished spell endures,
That this, our house, still, still is yours.
Here, spite of all these years apart,
I still can hold you to my heart!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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In The Churchyard At Tarrytown

Here lies the gentle humorist, who died
In the bright Indian Summer of his fame!
A simple stone, with but a date and name,
Marks his secluded resting-place beside
The river that he loved and glorified.
Here in the autumn of his days he came,
But the dry leaves of life were all aflame
With tints that brightened and were multiplied.
How sweet a life was his; how sweet a death!
Living, to wing with mirth the weary hours,
Or with romantic tales the heart to cheer;
Dying, to leave a memory like the breath
Of summers full of sunshine and of showers,
A grief and gladness in the atmosphere.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A Seduction: The Corner I

I saw you in my corner eye
your hands so large
your arms
bare;
I moved diagonally
where I came into your view
but not
obviously
but close enough
for you to have your look.

And you did look
and fixed me
in your green-eyed gaze
colors which changed
upon your approach.

I turned
to feign
not noticing you.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Crushing Pestle

I take my habits outside
and crush them in the pestle
because they constrain my life
even as I yearn to move beyond them.

I set aflame all my cultural presuppositions
because they prevent me from seeing.

I take each and every thought which in the past
seemed evident
and like Einstein
ask why do I accept these ideas as true?

I am in pursuit of my own genius
and its antecedents.

But my pestle strategy
is seen by all as rebellious
and I am crushed low soon
by church and state.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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