PPP Ezine: Poetrypoeticspleasure Ezine Volume 3; Issue 1; January 2019

Poet of the Month: James G Piatt

Windows of Dreams by Mary Bone

Pyre by David Estringel

Crème Brûlée by Jack M. Freedman

Healing by Eduard Schmidt-Zorner

Exiled by Sunil Sharma

Old by Noelle Kukenas

Fits in Nicely by Patricia Walsh

I’m Just Trying To Be Comfortable by Eric Golden

Poetry by Lynn Long

 

v3i1

 

Poet of the Month: James G Piatt

 

Time & Memories

 

 

Time is fading away inside clocks, which

 

Count the passing of countless hours in

 

Rusting minutes. The enigmatic

 

Shadows of the vanishing past intrude

 

Into memories as time hidden inside

 

Obscurity continually ticks away into

 

Infinity.

 

 

 

The conscious journey of life ends in the

 

Scarlet seconds of wordless flight, but

 

Time continues forever. When the

 

Ocean’s waves of ephemeral moments

 

Pass over our graves of earth and

 

Wood, and our lifeless flesh remembers

 

Not, time still exists for those with future

 

Dreams and golden memories,

 

 

 

As countless seasons come and go, and

 

Precious hours have long departed this

 

Life of mine, and as luminescent clouds

 

Wander freely over my marble

 

Tombstone, someone may still have

 

Memories of me, and will visit my

 

Tombstone in the early hours of a foggy

 

Morn.

 

 

 

Yearning for Summer

 

 

 

As clouds gather, I find

 

There is little to remember

 

As rain washes away

 

Memories, and builds

 

Upon darkness. I move

 

About the grayness

 

Without exactness, frozen

 

Thoughts bend images in

 

My mind. Puddles in the

 

Muddy rutted country road

 

Reflect things to be

 

Learned about winter

 

Winds, and moisture.

 

Barren trees with boughs

 

Searching for sky watch

 

For a sense of sun in the

 

Quivering silence of the

 

Day’s frozen hours, and I

 

Yearn for summer’s heat

 

To warm my weary bones.

 

 

 

The Lost

 

 

 

 

 

Scattered among the corroded

 

Debris of ruins and

 

Lost dreams

 

Are shattered

 

Hopes of a

 

Thousand traumatized souls.

 

 

 

Helplessness,

 

Caused by the spewing of hate filled

 

Bullets and bombs

 

Onto burning sand,

 

Covered the last hopes

 

Of those who have, nothing left

 

Except, their souls:

 

 

 

Men/women/children

 

Trudge helplessly

 

On jagged blood laced paths

 

And, crimson tinted sand,

 

Away from devastated homes

 

To anywhere,

 

Even death’s door:

 

 

 

The weary refugees continue

 

Running, running, running

 

To escape the tyranny of a

 

Despot, and

 

The blades of extreme

 

Insane Ideologists

 

 

 

Dr. Piatt’s poetry collections include “The Silent Pond,” “Ancient Rhythms,” and “Light.” His poem “Teach Me,” was the poem of the year at Long Story Short, and many of his poems have been featured as ‘poems of the month’ in numerous magazines, including Poetry Poetics Pleasure.  Several of his poems were nominated for both Pushcart, and Best of Web awards. He has published over 1130 poems.  He earned his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, and his doctorate from BYU.

 

 

 

 

 

Windows of Dreams by Mary Bone

 

A beautiful mind meditates,

 

Waterfalls are cascading

 

In a myriad of colors.

 

Watercolors fragment

 

Into exploded color.

 

Brushstrokes splash paint

 

With scenic views that my mind sees-

 

Illuminating brightness,

 

With thought and memory.

 

There is gold horizons and misty mountains.

 

Such truth of beauty,

 

I can’t put on paper.

 

 

Mary Bone has been writing poetry since the age of twelve. Her poems have been published at Kritya, Poetry Pacific, The Oklahoma Today Magazine, Spillwords and forthcoming poetry from Digging Through The Fat/Digging, January 25th online issue. Some recent published poetry can be found at, ”The Song Is,” Blogspot online.  

 

 

Pyre by David Estringel

 

 

Let hungry flames lick.

 

Devour this flesh that binds

 

and let me be free.

 

 

 

 

David Estringel is an avid reader, poet, and writer of fiction, creative non-fiction, & essays. His work has been accepted and/or published by Specter Magazine, Literary Juice, Foliate Oak Magazine, Indiana Review, Terror House Magazine, Expat Press, 50 Haikus, littledeathlit, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Route 7, Setu Bilingual Journal, Paper Trains, The Elixir Magazine, Soft Cartel, and The Good Men Project. He is currently a Contributing Editor (fiction) at Red Fez, editor/columnist at The Good Men Project, and an editor/writer at The Elixir Magazine. David Estringel can be found on Twitter (@The_Booky_Man) and his blog “The Booky Man” at thebookyman.wordpress.com.

 

 

 

Crème Brûlée by Jack M. Freedman

 

Thin veil of sugar covering the gold within

          this soul.

Crystals solidified and etched with fire

          upon the surface of this heart

Dare to crack the surface of this top layer

          of treasure?

Find the wealth within and know this

          facade is temporary.

Chances are there are one or more

          tongues left to arouse.

Embodiment of mirth realized through

          long lingual spasms

Birth of dessert which always wants to

          touch a lover’s lips.

Wholeness of dairy and the code

          embedded within a tongue.

Abundance in a shallow dish holding the

          depths of kindness and sincerity.  .

 

 

Jack M. Freedman is a poet of heart and of the modern cities.  

 

 

Healing by Eduard Schmidt-Zorner

 

I grew up amidst ruins,

remember a dead cat, exposed

on the debris pouring out of a

lonely porch of a destroyed house.

Destruction everywhere, also in my heart

I had no toys, no space to play,

refugees we were, displaced people.

In a box, I found two tiny wooden blocks,

unfinished.

And I found a thimble.

And a wooden mushroom,

which my mother used to darn the socks.

I placed the blocks on top of one another,

and added the thimble as turret,

gave the mushroom next to it

the order to stand straight

to serve as umbrella to keep me safe

in the house, which I constructed..

 

 

Eduard Schmidt-Zorner is an artist and a translator and writer of poetry and short stories. He is writing haibun and poetry in four languages: English, French, Spanish and German and holds workshops on Japanese and Chinese style poetry. He is a member of four writer groups in Ireland. He lives in County Kerry, Ireland, since more than 25 years and is a proud Irish citizen, born in Germany. He was published in 29 anthologies, literary journals and broadsheets in UK, Ireland and USA. Writes also under his pen name: Eadbhard McGowan.

 

 

 

Exiled by Sunil Sharma

 

 

The old bed

 

frayed sheet and blanket

 

 

 

the frail being

 

sotto voce

 

talks

 

to an airy

 

presence.

 

 

 

A hand towel

 

vials, medicines, water

 

bottle,

 

dentures and bifocals

 

on the

 

crowded table

 

 

 

near the yellow pillow

 

an old cell-phone 

 

 

 

the most cherished

 

item

 

in that small

 

Gulag

 

 

 

created exclusively

 

in an urban home

 

for a dying

 

parent in a liberal

 

India chasing brands.

 

 

Sunil Sharma is Mumbai-based senior academic, critic, literary editor and author with 19 published books: Six collections of poetry; two of short fiction; one novel; a critical study of the novel, and, eight joint anthologies on prose, poetry and criticism, and, one joint poetry collection. He is a recipient of the UK-based Destiny Poets’ inaugural Poet of the Year award—2012. His poems were published in the prestigious UN project: Happiness: The Delight-Tree: An Anthology of Contemporary International Poetry, in the year 2015. Sunil edits the English section of the monthly bilingual journal Setu published from Pittsburgh, USA:  http://www.setumag.com/p/setu-home.html For more details, please visit the blog: http://www.drsunilsharma.blogspot.in/.

 

 

Old by Noelle Kukenas

 

“I look old,” said the woman, as she glanced in the mirror, trying to cover the wrinkles with make-up.

 

“You’re not old, Mama,” said the younger woman, “those lines represent all the times you have laughed and smiled.”

 

 

 

“I feel old,” said the woman, as she struggled to lift herself out of the chair.

 

“You’re not old, Grandma,” said the child, “you’re just tired after playing tag with me today – and you won!”

 

 

 

“I sound old,” said the woman, as her voice shook when she spoke.

 

“You’re not old, GG,” said the young teenager, “none of my friends’ great-grandparents know the lyrics to all the latest songs like you do!”

 

 

 

“I AM old!” exclaimed the woman, as she gazed at the candles blazing atop the cake in front of her.

 

“Yes! You are 100years old! Happy Birthday to you…” sang four generations of the woman’s family.

 

 

 

Noelle Kukenas began writing around the age of nine and continues to this day. She enjoyed working in several career fields, many which allowed her to contribute as a technical writer in some capacity. Her published works include a short story in Scraps To Scribes and poetry in Sisterhood 4: We Are Women. Recently retired from the nonprofit sector, Noelle enjoys spending her free time traveling with her husband, creating havoc with her grandchildren, and enjoying the California sunshine!

 

 

Fits in Nicely by Patricia Walsh

 

Grating at extremeties, like the sheer cold

Over winter blanketed, a part to play

Traitored, or otherwise, importance  to call

The basic ingredient is the willing heart.

 

Life-partners to the fore, smugly congregating

In enclosed spaces not for the rest of us.

Brusquely rebuffing attempts at conversation

About their situation, intrusive, thanks.

 

I remain a stand-alone, despite predictions

Of a collective over summer, look out or not

Several broken hearts liter the roadway

To an earlier heaven, fitting in nicely.

 

No problem with insanity, broadcast over coffee

Not in any company should these jokes be shared

Strictly smoking in confined spaces, to mockery

Counting in times it hits you in the face.

 

Concerned, perhaps?  Preserving acquaintance

For merriment alone, cussing the depressed.

Parallels with Ballymun hit the wrong spot

Reading comfort but kicked in the teeth.

 

Relaxing at its peak, reading the irrelevant

Taking notice of sorrow for once in a life

Conspicuous by absence, still overlooked

Gambolling from drink to drink a speciality.

 

 

Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland.  To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals.  These include: The Lake; Seventh Quarry Press; Marble Journal; New Binary Press; Stanzas; Crossways; Ygdrasil; Seventh Quarry; The Fractured Nuance; Revival Magazine; Ink Sweat and Tears; Drunk Monkeys; Hesterglock Press; Linnet’s Wing, Narrator International, The Galway Review; Poethead and The Evening Echo.

 

 

I’m Just Trying To Be Comfortable by Eric Golden

 

 

I’m just trying to be comfortable in my own skin

At the same time looking for that companionship

 

 

Someone that completes me & looks out for my well being

Looks for the positives & through all the tough times they’re not leaving

 

 

The one who never cheats

That one who is never full of deceit

 

 

I’m trying to cope with being single & I’m not ready for commitment

But I’m ready to open up as much as I don’t want to admit it

 

 

One night stands aren’t cutting it & I’m looking for something deeper

Something more fulfilling, emotional & sweeter

 

 

The shining jewel in my crown

& that woman who is 10 toes down

 

 

A lot of women have caused me pain & grief

Some have stole my heart like a thief

 

 

But i need that special girl

Who can rotate my lonely world

 

 

Love is something I don’t take lightly

I just want someone to hold me down daily & nightly.

 

 

 

Eric was born in Omaha, Nebraska. He graduated from Boys Town high school and went on to get a degree in Social Work. He married at 19 but later got divorced and has raised two children alone. His love for music and arts has led him to his writing. Much of his poetry and writings come from experiences and love of life. He often adds humor to enlighten and has been writing for over 20 years.

 

 

Poetry by Lynn Long

 

Floating on a nebulous

 

Adrift in contemplation

 

Teetering at the precipice

 

I wander the constellations

 

 

Surfing celestial infinity

 

Riding waves of euphoria

 

Swimming in sublimity

 

No longer lost in moria

 

 

I’m chillin with the hatter

 

Sipping tea with honey

 

Where nothing really matters-

 

Unless you ask the bunny

 

 

Lynn Long is a poet, writer, aspiring novelist, as well as a daydreamer and firm believer in the impossible. She has been published in the following ezines, journals and online publications: Stanzaic Stylings, PPP Ezine, Antarctica Journal, Contributing artist at HitRECord.org and Scriggler.com.

 

 

 

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