Bernini’s David
corpses in rigor of life
frozen moments
captured intensely
illusions of movement
imagined by eyes
who would see through
the stillness of time
every heartbeat of stone
Archives
All posts for the month April, 2016
“Gradually Falling Asleep in Apathy of Unconsciousness” by Paulo Sergio Zerbato
stand in the rain
brave the storm
wash the guilt
of indifference
before it sets
permanent stain
take clean-handed
hold of opinion
adopt a position or
suffer the pangs of
dead conscience
in face of events
intellectual mayhem
gone out of control
because too many
moribund minds
prefer comfort of
sleep to the hard
pensive business
of outsmarting
vicious iniquity
“Affinity” by Elizabeth Chapman
(Subtitle: Exercise in Rhyming Couplets)
painters of canvas on olivewood frames
and chefs who create art from blue cooktop flames
thimbles of steel giving cover to thumbs
and hardhats to bear the collapse when it comes
jiggers of rye that go down nice and smooth
and capsules designed to sedate if not soothe
badges of brass giving symbol of shield
and scarecrows that dance over corn in the field
open pit barbecues hoisted with ribs
and nursery mobiles that hang over cribs
stiff collared shirts that present a neat form
and ambience crafted to set the mood warm
dainty materials bordered with lace
and galaxies wreathing the fringes of space
horsemen who rein-free hang onto the mane
and lame soldiers marching back home with a cane
temper that drives men to violent deeds
and words that can cut a man right where he bleeds
clockhands that wearily work for a chime
and poets who agonize struggling for rhyme
Nautilus Shell from pinterest.com
moonskin iridescence
smoothly silvers
nautilus chambers
Jurassic jeweled finish
prized since the pharaohs
beloved by the khans
splendidly conjugates
function and form
aesthetic exemplars
the finest of finework
by meticulous masters
“Red Abstract Mystical Figure” by Jennie O’Connor
doubt creeps from the pen
leaves its tracks on the page
a form of ambiguous grammar
possibly poetry possibly prose
no one readily knows
and yet all may take license
interpreting whether it’s
stanza or paragraph held in
their hands whether lyrics
or lexes are given writ voice
either neither or both
in the end does it matter
androgynous artforms
are nonetheless art or at
least they appear to be so
all depending of course
on the ambient light and the
predispositions of readers
“Vesuvius, Naples” by Leonid Afremov
unquenchable unquiet cone
tipped in ashclouds and misery
manslaughter crawls down its slopes
upon fat knees of fire to squat by the sea
loosing foul chthonic rivers of liquefied bones
onto cultures unwilling to run or entreat
forgiveness for loving this exquisite soil
“Depression” by Farid Shirzad
lift the pain from these ill deceived bones
let this heart fly above the white mountaintops
up where whole worlds can be brought into view
let these eyes see how truth has no place it can hide
from keen yearnings for well-made intentions
this landscape too long in the rupture and bleeding
needs healing through full-throated honesty
giving its thunderous cry to the voice of republic
“Pure Beginnings” by Kit Hevron Mahoney
nothing small
should distract
from the living
stealing what
should be the joy
from each moment
from tasting
rewards of large
wholesome experience
hesitate not to
accept whom we are
in our circumstance
pale are beginnings
long since become
inconsequential
what matters is
how we move forward
inventing our ends
too precious is
time to be wasted
on wondering why
the small question
whose answer is
always irrelevant
“Barber Shop” by Robert Cottingham
(Remembering Grandpa Niccolò DeTore)
bay rum barber poet
stropped razors and verse
white handlebar mustache
handsomely lifted his smile
Neapolitan gold in his eyes
bootstrap pride in his step
classic rhetoric served at
each meal from his dapper
silk tie and trim waistcoat
surveying his long kitchen
table where thirteen young
minds learned their everlast
lessons of life in America
steeped in his practicum
lovingly eagerly wrapped
in his keen gentle wisdom
“Florida Keys 2” by Kenneth John
sandy islets in aquamarine
curling west by southwest
curving under the sun
stitch the gulf to the ocean
with salty sweet laziness
needing no clock but the sky
to see time in its easy progression
from sunrise to sunset
ablaze with the colors of leisure
seductively free of pretensions
and pressures a cultural crucible
melting away stress and urgency
gifts of conquistadors calmed
by the balm of these breezes
and lulled by the metronome lap
of this surf to retire their armor
to slow down their heartbeats
and take up the barefoot pursuit
of an utterly tranquil tradition
