It's just poetry, it won't bite

Guest Room

04.01.12 Posted in today's words by

Kevin Ridgeway’s most recent poem to appear here was Old Fashioned (February 2012).Guest RoomBy Kevin Ridgewaysurrounded byfamily picturestheir facesstaring out at mein frozen timeeach of their eyesholding mysteriessolved by the folksin the next roomthe avenue outsideis hit by the sun’s gloweverythingencircled by fenceswhile childrenride bicyclesalong sidewalksof secret historiesthe palm treestower towardthe heavenswhere thesestoriesand dreams rest


Stigmatic widowhood

03.31.12 Posted in today's words by

Vivekanand Jha’s most recent poem to appear here was Let me live even in the dark (May 2010).Stigmatic widowhoodBy Vivekanand JhaCustom curses the widowand blesses the widowerwidow, a horse with bridle; widower, a tiger without fetters.Stand two victims in a sea of sympathy:all waves sway toward the widowerwhile stranded at seashore, widow seeswordlessly all worldly ebbs and flows.It […]


Praise

03.30.12 Posted in today's words by

Jeanette Gallagher’s most recent poem to appear here was The Twist, published as part of Contributor Series 10: Silken Rags, in January 2012.PraiseBy Jeanette GallagherShe asked her motherwhy she neverpraisedHer mother answeredbecause she didn’t want her to get a big head.After therapy sherelinquished the painand wondered whyin her dreams she stillsearched for herself.


Stranger

03.29.12 Posted in today's words by

Gerald Solomon was born in London and studied English literature at Cambridge University. After a short spell as a sales assistant at a book shop in London’s Charing Cross Road, he worked as a producer at the BBC. Subsequently becoming engaged in education, he helped found general studies courses at Hornsey College of Art, and […]


A Pot of Chili

03.29.12 Posted in words to linger on by

William Wright Harris’ poem Ode on a Fortune Cookie appeared here in February 2012.A Pot of ChiliBy William Wright Harrisis bubblingon my stove,spitting greaseandtomato sauce, Jackson Pollackweaving wind onmy kitchen wall.Pound saying, if America hasno place for poetrythen it hasno place for me,leaving for a cagein Italy.Bukowski pointinghis BMW towards the racetrack toforget his typewriteris humming for himalonein his […]


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