Friday, October 14, 2016

Richard King Perkins II - One Poem

Pale Necks of Lavender

Sweeping almost freely

eternal willows

soon to be tangled
by afternoon’s
westward moving air

swaying pale necks
of lavender

rustling her blond hair
as he skips stones

their secret pond—

an uncovered rock

its new place

only to settle
and become old
once again

Richard King Perkins II is a state-sponsored advocate for residents in long-term care facilities. He lives in Crystal Lake, IL, USA with his wife, Vickie and daughter, Sage. He is a three-time Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee whose work has appeared in more than a thousand publications.

Friday, September 9, 2016

Timothy Pilgrim - Two Poems

My Last Professor
 (with a nod to Robert Browning)

There, see his portrait on the wall. 
I believe him to be the exception,   

not the rule. He lasted fall, winter, 
almost till spring -- persevered, gave,   

shall I say, not just light,  
but hope – inspired a bit of love  

to begin. Then new semester --  
classes in lit, stats, chem,

attraction ebbing, new interest,  
same pattern -- learning, powerful men.   

Notice this photo, though, coup d'etat,  
prize-winning biology prof   

making dissected frogs  
jump high again.

Light Found to Have Weight

Rod in hand, sun about to set,
I've found it heavier than flies --

even affects the cast, slows line
looping through red sky

toward foam on the dark, far side.
At times, light seems to force

a ribboned splash, scatter rainbow 
before my Black Ghost touches down.

At dawn, I have seen it rise groggy,
barely able to clear meadow grass, 

likely from carrying all that dew
layered on by summer night.

The dying know, too, full well
it's true, cease to resist,

succumb to light heaviness 
holding down gray eyelids. 

They willingly give up fishing,
having reached their limit. 

Timothy Pilgrim, a Pacific Northwest poet and emeritus associate professor of journalism at Western Washington University, has published over 300 poems -- with acceptances from journals like Seattle Review, Windfall, Cirque, San Pedro River Review, Third Wednesday and Carcinogenic Poetry. He is author of Mapping Water (Flying Trout Press, 2016). His work can be found at

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Charlotte Ozment - One Poem

Flood Waters

What’s that old saying?
water under the bridge....

It’s supposed to mean
what's in the past
is past
no problem
don't worry
it's gone, over,

But have you ever
looked under a bridge?
I mean, have you ever
taken the time
to jump over that railing,
slide down the embankment,
crawl under and around
those cement pillars?

Debris, flotsam,
logs, refrigerators,
dead animals....

Now you tell me,
how is that water
supposed to flow freely again
with all that crap
blocking its path?

Whoever wrote that adage
never experienced a flood....

Charlotte Ozment is a homesteading Texan on several acres full of devas, dogs and squirrels. She was a lifelong manual writer who is joyously devoting her retirement to right-brained pursuits.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Mark Niehus - Two Poems

Bluebird and the Cage

You measure yourself
against the world
during trips to the Laundromat.
You organise your words while
removing the stains on your shirt
and try to keep
the one thing you have in line.

And between
the beauty at parties
you see that there is something
sinister underlying
every social grace.

What a great power it must be
to suppress a spirit
that was once necessary
to invent,
and love
and what do you do
when you sense
a flash of admiration
for its genius?

You refine your pleasure
for the drink.
You enjoy the movement it brings,
the action
and the chance.

And now somehow home
in pursuit of the poem
and in possession
of something good and rare,
something cracks open
that allocates meaning
and hope,
so you can sleep again balancing
the bluebird
and the cage.

Life Machine

The numbers turn
and the infinite mechanism
and grows
and groans truths
and lies.

Such a beautiful machine
entrusting its success
to fulfil its design
on the emotional
spirit of man.

And on us
the great weight rests.
It is that uneasy feeling
that comes some nights,
when left with our lives.

We are all working
to fuel
and to make up
the bony parts
of this mad living.

We turn
and burn
toward an outcome
unknown to us,
or this life machine.

Mark Niehus is a Poet and Artist who drives a cheese truck. He likes to get close to instinct and invention to create unique combinations of poetry, street art, music and performance.