August, 2013
New Countrymen
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 15, 2013
New Countrymen
And then the Romans came
With their towers and houses; and marble statues;
Things are no more the same,
With their strange, civilised Gods.
Where are the Druids, now we have need?
Where are my people?
Is it silence, now?
Is it, indeed?
Our forest is not strong anymore
Since the Romans brought their cities and culture.
Old trees have been felled;
The old spirit cannot capture
The old ways, anymore.
They shouldn’t have cut down the trees;
There was no need for that;
The Romans do as they please,
And there is nothing we can do about that.
What do they want of our misty land
When they are cold here?
Why do they do this to us
When they feel unwelcome here?
Why have they left their sunny land
When they are not content here?
Where are my people?
Times are changing all over the land;
Stonehenge has let fall some stones.
We fear an end is at hand,
The way our country groans.
What are these Romans?
They are not like us;
They have slighted our land
Yet our Gods do not harm them.
Only once have I seen such ill;
That was when Morrigan came;
She plagues my memories still.
Old Greenwood waits and calls
As more harm is done,
And as more trees die, their falls
Rock the Greenwood.
Few know the old ways now;
The hidden old straight track.
In Stonehenge’s sacred enclave
I see children playing their games.
These Romans no longer attack;
They go about their own business now
And call for us to slave,
And to stop our old ways;
Where are my people now?
Who are these Romans now?
Maybe the land will welcome them;
Maybe she is not too hurt by them;
Maybe we can understand them;
Maybe we can yet tame them.
Richard Jones
Charming Nantucket
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 15, 2013
Charming Nantucket
Little houses of cedar shaked serenity
house the most volatile of people,
quaking from their creativity,
hiding from normalcy,
needing a refuge.
All acts astrologically reasoned,
put in their proper places,
accounted for.
They are now able to relate
to their inner seething.
This intermittent eruption of discontent,
restless outbursts of individuality.
Separated from the rest of humanity
and it’s causes,
they are free.
Free to expose selfish expression.
Free for selfless repression.
Free from most other oppression.
Set apart from the mainland.
Most choose this exile
either in birthing or longing
for the tranquility of the sea birds,
lapping waves
and bogs.
The beautiful sameness of housing,
square housing,
contrasts the slippery curves of cobblestone.
Quaint is as Wild does,
as so, the people!
Charming!
Pamela Hope
What
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 15, 2013
What
what have I done so wrong
to feel this way
what have I done so wrong
to have no say
what have I done so wrong
to feel alone
what have I done so wrong
to be a stranger in my home
what have I done so wrong
to leave my friends behind
what have I done so wrong
to create this troubled mind
what have I done so wrong
to lose my self-respect
what have I done so wrong
to walk this lonely trek
what have I done so wrong
to feel this blue
what have I done so wrong
For now, I can’t find, You.
Amanda Edwards
A gentle soul
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 14, 2013
A gentle soul
A gentle soul
Invites the poet
To rise within us,
To open our hearts
And reveal
Our inner truths,
Giving us courage
To breach thick walls
We build to hide behind.
What you do matters.
You make a positive difference.
Thank you for being you!
Phil Ray Jack
Footprints in the Sky
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 14, 2013
Footprints in the Sky
Come. Join the dance of sacred .synchronicity
Open a window on fantasy to see what might
become our reality. Watch mind turn it’s key
in the lock of heart to fill with loves light
Intuitive remembering is a conduit that pours
a quart into a scant pint pot. Insight oozes
from the ether, drops crumbs of beebread to feed
our minds. Small jewels catch my eye – touch
down on paper as ku. Poems bloom in wild places,
float down from snowflake laden skies; they arise
from the hot ashes of life: bleed from sorrow,
dance in fantasia, or fly on a jackdaw’s wing.
I conjure visions from the warmth of summer nights
and see treasure in things I have no need to own.
I pen your highest dreams, toss them to far reaches
of the universe, to start your search in shadows
I inhale the miracle of life and exhale poems
a breath of empathy for all that is – and is not
I close my eyes and when I open them you stand
before me – you are a lantern of love in flower.
Gael Bage
Into the Darkness
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 14, 2013
Into the Darkness
She sits huddled
in the darkest corners
of her mind, head bowed.
She hugs her knees
seeking comfort.
Her heart is heavy.
She feels alone. Lost.
More arguments,
more misunderstandings.
Arrows of fear
Pierce her heart
There can be no pretense.
Nothing will change the fact,
that her soul has awakened.
There is no turning back.
Amanda Edwards
What happened to love?
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 14, 2013
What happened to love?
You tore my heart
into a million pieces
with your anger
your fear
my fragile existence
a flotsam of tissue
scattered to the wind
I snatch at the pieces
with unseeing eyes
and wonder
what happened to love?
Slowly,
I pull myself together
so frayed and worn
nothing seems to fit
anymore
you say you are sorry
and I forgive
it was my fault after all
I guess we start over
yet I do wonder …
How many times
must
I fall?
Amanda Edwards
Papatuanuku
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 11, 2013
Papatuanuku
I beseech you Papatuanuku
let me return to your womb
your warmth, your darkness
please hold me tight
Oh mother earth
why did you cast me out
adrift on this lonely planet
I can barely face the light
And you Ranginui
Father of the night
Could I not be a distant star
a heavenly orb
a spinner of dreams
a glow in an unknown galaxy
why here on earth
living in the shadow world
where all is an illusion
Oh Lord,
why must we burn so bright?
Amanda Edwards
Summer Breeze
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 10, 2013
Summer Breeze
Blow, blow, soft summer breeze
whispering through the poplar trees
rose scented as I breathe
Parachute seeds suspended in thin air
float right past my garden chair.
So gently you wreathe
soft on my brow a cool sheathe
Sunlight dapples on green grass cut fine
I taste the sweetness of your breath in mine
as One we intertwine
Blow, blow, a do si do with mallow flowers
branches sway for hours and hours
while fish leap to plop back in the pond
sunbeams and widening ripples bond
I watch you blow fine mists of spray
through children’s water play, lift their laughter away.
Dance, though invisible I know you’re there
I sense your touch, feel the ozone in the air.
Sweet summer’s breath in mine
as One we intertwine
Gael Bage
The Last Man in My Lifetime
POSTED IN contemporary poetry August 10, 2013
The Last Man in My Lifetime
You will be the last man in my lifetime
The only dream which did not masquerade
Your voice my overture, all else pantomime
Your words deride untruth, silence tirade.
A wind that cuts the true path in a maze
My horse in battles I will never win
Who comes when all around us is ablaze
Your eyes seal wounds where all will turn or freeze
A shape who ventures mines I hide within
Eclipsing nightmares’ scenes where demons seize
Until beneath your shield at last dreams spin
When I possess so many masks I run
Your eyes will find me underneath each one
Linda Atterton
