Poetry Page 2-Fall 2007
Mindful, Mindless, October Date
by Michael Lee Johnson
Mindful of my lover
running late, as common
as tying your shoestrings;
I'm battered as an armadillos shell;
I put my bands around my emotional body
armor native to myself and walk like a stud
Everything in October has a shade of orange you know--
a hint of witch and goblin.
In the leaves between my naked feet
and toes, as I pace my walk in the parking lot,
I count them--
I count them color chart fragments and bites:
oranges, reds, still mostly greens.
Barefooted the time of the tear, the year-fragmented.
I am male battered in a relationship
tested without my testosterone
no sexual rectification or recharging
of my batteries needed.
I lie limp.
Native to myself--
mindless of my lover running late.
Then she arrives.
Bio: Michael Lee Johnson lives in Itasca, IL. after spending 10 years
in Edmonton, Alberta Canada during the Vietnam War era. He is a
freelance writer, and poet. He has been published in USA, Canada,
New Zealand, Australia, Scotland, Turkey, Fuji, Nigeria Africa, India,
United Kingdom, Thailand, and Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Michael Lee
Johnson is a member of Poets & Writers, Inc and Directory of American
Poets & Fictions Writers: http://www.pw.org/. He is a member of The
Illinois Authors Directory. Illinois Center for the Book:
He has published 145 poems in 2007 to date. He is the author of: The
Lost American: From Exile to Freedom.
The book is also listed at Amazon.com, & Barnes & Noble. Visit his
website at: http://poetryman.mysite.com/. He is now the publisher,
editor of Poetic Legacy: http://www.poetriclegacy.mysite.com/ Poetic
Legacy is now open for submissions.
by Julie L. Moore
It’s possible to forget
out here, twenty miles from the base,
watching cinnamon-hued horses, smooth
as suede, grazing in their field,
foal at her mother’s teat,
brook noisy as a boy
sloshing in last night’s rainwater,
morning still steam-tinged—
when three F-16’s shoot by,
raking the landscape, pulling
up my eyes. And while the mare
simply bows, tugging
at a tuft of grass, my tongue
becomes dry as gauze,
not so far away.
Julie L. Moore's chapbook, Election Day, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2006. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in many publications, including Sou’Wester, The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Blueline, River Oak Review, Flint Hills Review, The Chaffin Journal, and Christianity and Literature. In addition, her poetry won Second Honorable Mention in the 2006 National Poet Hunt Contest judged by Laurence Lieberman and appeared in the winter 2007 issue of The MacGuffin. Another poem was selected “Editor’s Choice” in the fall 2006 Fairfield Review. Moore lives in Cedarville, Ohio and directs the Writing Center at Cedarville University.
by Ashok Niyogi
let me gift pink knickerbockers
from my Calcutta Montessori
to my children's children
for their photo-op
with a 'critter' in Barnes&Noble
with love that grows like orchids
on woodwork damp with tears
that drown dreams dreamt
through years now adrift
in flurries of Siberian snow
the tap of a walking stick
to travel with through the bazaar
that has lonely shops who buy and sell
props sent as attachments
which I download and save
in the dust gathered around
my father's photographs
Bio: Ashok Niyogi is an Economics graduate from Presidency College, Calcutta. He made a career as anInternational Trader and has lived and worked in the Soviet Union, Europe and South East Asia in the '80s
and '90s. At 52, he has been retired for some years and has been cashew farming, writing and traveling. He divides time between California, where his daughters live, Delhi and the Indian Himalayas. He is increasingly involved in his personal spiritual quest and has undertaken serious study of scripture. He has published a book of poems, TENTATIVELY, [iUniverse, Lincoln, NE - 1995] and has been extensively published in print and on-line magazines in the USA, UK, Australia and Canada. Numerous chapbooks of his poems have been brought out by SCARS Publications, UC-Davis, Slow Trains and others.
Ashok writes about life.
by JA Howe
I will meet you at the end of the universe
Once all the quasars have sung their tunes
In a flash of light, there I’ll be
Wandering amidst quadrillion moons
We’ll sort out the comets together
Surf on Doppler waves
We’ll be tanned by the crisping of hundreds of suns
And watch the black holes breathe
Yes we’ll meet at the end of the universe
To watch the lights fade out one by one
And I’ll kiss your lips and hold your hand
In the brilliance of the very last sun.
Bio: JA Howe's poetry has been seen in Illumen and surprisingstories.com. Her website is : http://howewriter2000.4t.com