Bernini

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

Iniquity

“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

Affinities

“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

 

Nacre

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

Androgyny

“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

“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

 

Cry Country

“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

Why

“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

My Mother’s Father

“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

The Keys

“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