Friday, April 29, 2011

Loving You (Sestina) by KT McVeigh

I love
Letting go
Is the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.
I feel like I’m putting you to sleep.
I’m euthanizing my dreams.

My daydream,
My love,
Is falling asleep
Next to you
And waking up whenever we do
With no other places to go

Because we feel no need to go.
We awake from our dreams
(I before you do
to steal seconds of free love)
And I turn on my side and see you
And it is as though I am still asleep.

When you go to sleep
Having ended our conversation hours ago
Do you
Ever dream
That we are in love?
I wonder if you do

I do
Sometimes I only sleep
So I can feel that love
That is where I go
So real in my dreams
I can almost be with you

But it isn’t true. You
Are so far away from me, do
You understand how distant a dream
It really is? A night’s worth of sleep
On a plane across the universe we’d go
For love

At least, I dream that you
And I will meet and fall in love, do
You believe it too? Or content with sleep do you go?
I Can’t.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Two poems by Sam Kelly

Prison Walls

a familiar emptiness,
your pale body
weak from constant bareness
the whites of your eyes
pushed far back into their sockets
you sink into the colorless land
seeing nothing
noticing little
a face so blank
yet a spark of warmth lives deep within
yearning, wanting, hoping, desiring
black prison walls far off,
what may flow beyond this pallid emptiness?

trip far past the world of Never Never land
glimpse young children flying with guardians
a young boy in love with his youth
and radiating Stars
gaseous wonders of magenta teal yellow
swirl around each other
they engage you,
pull you into a memory
remind yourself of those years
merry-go-round upon merry-go-round
turning, Never Never ending,
yet somehow
you’re no longer there

step into the cold night’s water
bright hues dying pallid skin
swim around the corner
whimsical water splashing color
that moist spray
dripping down your face
a look into moon lit reflection
shows a zebra grazing alone

where Alice skips along a path of illogical life
the Mad hatter sits at tea with rabbits and playing cards
such an unnatural thought
nothing more than a mysterious vision
it makes you wonder
where have you gone so fondly, dreaming?

Dandelion Field

I peer into your eyes, glassy pearls sitting above the bridge of your nose and below your finely-tuned brows.
I can see myself in you like a mirror of all my sins.
I know the world is a hazardous place but I feel safe trapped in your eyes.
My soul has committed itself to you.
You eat away at the flesh.
A feast for you, a famine for me.
My irises burn as the sun reflects off the glass shield over your eyes.
I am blinded for a moment but regain sight of you quickly.
Your reflecting eyes and beautiful lips sitting among a field of dandelions.
How can a place so serene exist in a world of so much hazard?

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Two poems by Cecilia Young

Why must you run?
Your senses go numb
You need that high
So you can hide
It's never beautiful enough
Dull your senses til the sun comes up
Your problems won’t go away
Images distort your brain
What is it that you hide from?
What on earth will you become?
Back to earth, how do you feel,
High or low, none of it’s real
When the time comes will you know
Or will life waste, lose its glow
You see, you won’t be the same
Only have a similar name
But even that won’t mean a thing
Get that fix, the buzz, the sting
Crazy nerves and hungry head
Who you were is almost dead
How will you ever find yourself?
Just one more trip? That won’t help
This confused age clouds your eyes
But you can’t always be on cloud nine
Come back to me, come back home
I am yours and yours alone
Is it that feeling you want and need?
I’ll be your addiction, you will see
Laugh and show that beautiful smile
No one’s seen since you were a child

Let it mist
Blinded by fog
Turn the sky into a bog
Let it drizzle
Soft and smooth
Pitter patter like horses’ hooves
Let it rain
Strong and steady
The clouds are looking much too heavy
Let it pour
Bring on the rain
It washes away all the pain
Let it flood
Rivers flow high
They will pour back to the sky.
Butterfly, open your wings!
Your colors have a song to sing —
A song unheard in dark of night
So regale the world while it is light!
See the blazing sun it sets
And water calmly reflects
The last few rays of fading light
Giving way to growing night.
Something about the first sunny day
Stirs the storm cloud heart
When the first blooms touch the hills
No rain can make a day too gray.
The sky smiles at her reflection on the water
With cottony clouds framing her face
And the breeze tickles branches of trees
Taunting them to sprout their leaves
The sun will beam warmly down
On this day and many others
But this day, this day is special
Because it is the first.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Poem by Lauren Castaldi

We try too hard for that low class teenage angst

Cry about every secret leak
Any trust circle breach
But I know you love to watch
Your mistakes be talked about
The center of It all
Walk into room and hear the silence start to fall
Because we love each other’s problems
So much more entertaining than our own.

And we find any reason for a disrupted mood
Or self-inflicted wound
We try too hard to brood
Over some pathetic dude.
We get attention because we whine.
Over every single time
I’m told I fall short of a dime
Not a ten but just a nine
And scrutinize over what the hell could I do to shed that image of a nine??
Surely nothing natural.

I fill my empty heart with inadequate distractions
Layered with false hope, knowing what I’m lacking
I stare at fictional characters through disconnected screens
Numbing my brain until real thoughts can leak through by any possible means

And maybe I’ll imply
That the real reason why
We feed off others' weakness
Like some great huge swarm of leeches
Is to safely hide our own
So our secrets are never known
But I’ll admit I laugh at others
Who face the same regrets I have known
I’m just a better secret keeper as I have clearly shown.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Two poems by John Alter

Old man you offer me the gift
Old man you offer me the gift of
recurrence the way the wind through the
curtains brings with it tonight the fragrance
of kites as if in some library a
blind poet is moving the pages of 
a beloved book     that is you      we watched
your eyes turn away from us at the end
of your days with us     you were bored already
with that nonsense about a king and
a one-eyed man     with all the nonsense of
moderation     and sometimes only we 
heard you speak to us from where you are now 
Prayer Flag, Deodar
The first pale light of a new day
at the windows like water-color.  I
understand why these trees insisted that
we associate them with the gods.
began as
a tree, on a morning like this
the first pale light at the windows
like water-color,
on the edge of a mountain
where, swaddled in mist, the gods
are born
and prayer thrusting itself
up out of the muddled mind.
Before and beyond words
the mind is a mountain where
gods are born.
A small breeze moves
in the branches.  Somebody has hung
a prayer flag there, the words obliterated
by mist.
A prayer flag begins
with legible words from
the sutra
a man can read,
each syllable clear.  He
knows the words by heart.
And the words
flutter then in the morning
alone for the first time.  Mist
enters the
household of syllables.  Slowly
the walls will dissolve,
the furniture of meaning.
The prayer flag
remembers a man reading
the words by heart and the man is
like a dream, he
dissolves in the mist, and the prayer flag
turns now
to the wind… 

Monday, April 18, 2011

Poem by Thom Hart


If you were even to consider
trying out my point of view,
you would have to reverse
your entire outlook on life
several times over.

You know what?
switch time zones for a while
then come back.
Wear what I wear with
the same pride, that only
comes from a favorite pair
of pants worn several days
in a row.

And when you can't figure it out,
ask me "hey, are these glasses on right?"
and I'll say "Damn straight,
you look just like you always wanted to,
ever since you saw that video on MTV."

What if, while flying around
in your automobile, you saw
yourself walking down the
yellow line, and you turned
and caught your own terrified
eyes in the headlights.

Don't get me wrong now,
I'm not saying you ran you over.
Maybe you're just seeing things.
I wouldn't blame you for
perhaps believing
that you're fucked in the head,
just don't start wearing
tinfoil helmets and sitting in class,
staring at the ceiling,
while acting like a mute.
Not one word escapes you,
as you focus on blocking
extraterrestrial, or
government-sponsored mind probes.

I'm sorry if this cookie-cutter
community isn't what you thought it was,
We looked happy you say? Are you sure
you were even visiting on that day?
Oh right, last month we were all good,
slapping five as we walked by.
But I'm estranged now.
You all point, stare, and whisper.
And I know there really is no
problem, it's all me, it's just
that the little kids who cannot see,
they're the ones who need be set free.
Free from all your animosity.

And here I stand
on my little soap-box,
cardboard actually,
it's caving in at the sides,
all the angst is too heavy
and only builds
as I shout high up
from this street corner,
at the intersection
of "not interested" and
"who gives a flying fuck" street.

But look what I made you
from all my doubt and despair.
Clear as day, but out of sight,
you know it'll do you oh so right
to remember, just remember
where we all were two years
before tonight.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Poem by Erin Sullivan

To Separation

The heart and the head, what kind of a separation
Is that? Is it brains disjoined from unthoughtfulness?
That is something I want to know: what causes
That split. My head is telling me to stay, to try
To work. But my heart wants me to wait,
In the cold and the wind for you to pull up.
Illegally, breaking so many rules. I want to go with
You, somewhere, anywhere. Down the hall, down south.
Pick the destination and I will meet you.
The separation? Is it just the distance? I wish
That’s all it was. Everything to me, oh how
I wish you knew. I joke, I kid but I just wish you knew
When I say I love you, I mean it. When I say
I want to see you, I mean that I would do anything
In the world for you, just to see you, to hold you. That separation
In us: are we kidding? Are you serious? I need to know.
That is my heart talking I guess. Screaming at me
Shouting, pick me. Love me, be with me. My mind is telling me
Run, don’t look back. Forget about it all.
Forget the memories and the times that we had.
I want separation to disappear, to fade
Into blackness. I want it to be right. Show
Me the way to end the separation.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

To Distraction by Cecilia Young

Distraction, why do you follow me?
Evening now, time for real work
And instead I sit down
To work on thinking...
Thinking about not working, and THEN
Writing it all as the sun sinks down,
Down. What was that homework I didn't hear about?
Nevermind. Nevermind. I'd rather just
As thoughts come and go
Clouds smear the sky, which is so many colors
But a blank canvas
Like my mind, right now, early evening.
The clouds are my thoughts.
I have a letter to write
And polynomials to factor,
History questions that must be answered,
This and that,
The digestive tract,
Anatomy review tomorrow.
And English? Distraction.
Because this is work, but not really.
I could be working on work
But I prefer
Working on thinking
Thinking about not working
Everything in between,
And writing.