Sunday, 19 November 2017

One Jar of Honey

by Jane Yolen


“'One jar of honey to all the gods, one jar of honey to
the Mistress of the Labyrinth'—clay tablet, Knossos

Here in the Denmark of the year,
where bees move like sleep, like death,
their fruit coagulating in the hive,
we bring storied honey
to the Mistress of the Labyrinth.

Honey is the key unlocking mysteries.
Honey is the sweet disguise.
It paints the lips of the dead.
It is the soft fall of footstep
around the circled path,

The Mistress smiles on our offer,
taking the jar in sweetened hands.
Her tongue snakes out for a taste.
Her praises to the hive
keep us alive in the end of the year.

Little bees lie mostly still in their winter,
wings burring like a snore.
We walk the labyrinth out of solstice
heading toward another spring,
leaving the bitter cold behind.             


* * * * *
                                                             
Jane Yolen, author of 360+ books (actual number) including 8 books of adult poetry. Much of her work is for young readers, but she has a number of novels, essay collections, and pedagogical books for adult as well. www.janeyolen.com


Saturday, 18 November 2017

Labyrinth

by Jane Yolen


Dance the maze,
They tell me.
Trace the goddess steps.

Yet there seems
no pattern, no floor.
All is chaos:

A tangle of webs,
twists of threads,
history’s clots.

Stone beneath,
Stone above,
I sink into the grey.

But as I dance,
unspooled life winds
about my spindle.

Now I see the path.
One foot after another,
Till labyrinth reveals.

Then I dance home
to the center of self
and out again.                             


* * * * *


Jane Yolen is the author of 360+ books (actual number) including 8 books of adult poetry. Much of her work is for young readers, but she has a number of novels, essay collections, and pedagogical books for adult as well. www.janeyolen.com

Friday, 17 November 2017

Old House

by Karen Friedland


Nothing ever comes out as planned—
the projects, the objects
never look quite as promised
and the old house is irrevocably altered,
thrown off its axis.

And we, the inhabitants
are in flux,
flustered by these new developments,
feeling the house injured
offended, yet again.

Someone whacked at it
with a hammer
and truly, I feel bad
because sometimes it’s best
to just leave a poor, old house
alone.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Dust Bowl on t.v.

by Karen Friedland


Look what you did,
fools!

You ripped up my protective coat—
15 inches of Buffalo grass—
and killed all the buffalo, too,
while you were at it.
You left my bare body exposed
to the wind and drought
which blew it away.

You killed the coyote
that kept the jack rabbits in check,
and then you killed them too, with sticks,
when, famished,
they ate the only green things left.

You killed your own cattle
when all you had to feed them was tumbleweed.
And then came the grasshopper plague
which you treated with poison, of course
and then the dead and dying children—
truly, it was biblical.

Proving once again
that every little thing
affects every single thing,
and you can truly count on humans
to destroy that chain,
over and over again.


Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Words to prey by

by Eve Dobbins


Words of prey
A snail crawls by
Caddy corner to my feet
Like a verbal tit-for-tat
He encroaches upon my territory
Slapping and then slipping along the muddy bank.
The black geese on the deck
Preen their necks gracefully celebrating the day
Darting slitty eyes like
A consumer eyeing the latest I-phone.
I pause for posterity
But in a flash
The landscape changes
Like the moving cloud
Released from idle
Only the snail retains
Its stand
Inch by inch
Like us…
We are creatures of habit
The more we try to change
The more we slug behind.


* * * * *

Eve Dobbins was born in New York City and raised in a small town located in the Catskill Mountains where everyone knew your name. After graduating from Stony Brook University with an English degree, she spent several years working in Manhattan in the garment industry; as a real estate property appraiser with the city of New York and a girl Friday for local radio talk show host, Barry Farber, as well as a stint in the United States Navy. Her favorite authors are Lee Child, Lisa Unger, and Ann Rule.  Her favorite quote for inspiration is “Everyone has two eyes but no one has the same view” (Wael Harakeh). Her husband is her co-conspirator in writing and baking which paved the way for Cupcake Cache, a gourmet cupcakerie which closed in 2015. Mrs. Dobbins has a MA in TESOL and has lived and worked in Asia and the Middle East. Presently, she makes a living as an English teacher. She was named in August 2017 “Poet of the Month” by “The Horror Zine.”  One of her most most recent published poem is: https://anapestjournal.wixsite.com/anapestjournal/single-post/2017/07/22/Wishing-on-Cotton


Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Human Vortex

by Eve Dobbins


Wild winds shriek through the trees
As the world continues its deluge upon our senses
No longer on microfiche but instead blaring out the images
We stand like the Immaculate Conception listening to proclamations
With judgment and sharp rhetoric drawn like slingshots aimed at the heart
Hungry looks defy the strength of the wild winds shrieking through the trees
We wish for the natural
We assume they are like us but like the wild winds, the torrential rain, sharp diamond hail stones striking windows and concrete
We cannot predict our future by prayers or superstitions
  Sometimes
A prayer and a whisper of the sun shining through after the violent storm
 Is a stronger sign then words of double entendre melting into shapes and babble.
As the skilled orator manipulates the audience
 We are not just like them
But we are more like the gentle brook flowing along
Sometimes in time with the current and
Sometimes raging against the elements and
Overflowing the bank while bystanders pack the banks
Watching us drown and struggle with the current
   Sometimes even lending us a hand to pull us further into the mire.
…As the river and the elements continue their travesty
The world continues its claims
 preying upon the listening ears as we
   Bow our heads silently in prayer.


* * * * *

Eve Dobbins was born in New York City and raised in a small town located in the Catskill Mountains where everyone knew your name. After graduating from Stony Brook University with an English degree, she spent several years working in Manhattan in the garment industry; as a real estate property appraiser with the city of New York and a girl Friday for local radio talk show host, Barry Farber, as well as a stint in the United States Navy. Her favorite authors are Lee Child, Lisa Unger, and Ann Rule.  Her favorite quote for inspiration is “Everyone has two eyes but no one has the same view” (Wael Harakeh). Her husband is her co-conspirator in writing and baking which paved the way for Cupcake Cache, a gourmet cupcakerie which closed in 2015. Mrs. Dobbins has a MA in TESOL and has lived and worked in Asia and the Middle East. Presently, she makes a living as an English teacher. She was named in August 2017 “Poet of the Month” by “The Horror Zine.”  One of her most most recent published poem is:


Monday, 13 November 2017

The Window

by E J Randolph


“When did you say your wife would be back?”
“I didn't.”
“But-”
“Don't worry so much. Come here. Let me kiss you. Hey, stop pulling away. You love me don't you?”
“Yes, but I don't like this.”
“What's that?”
“Stop pulling on my arm.”
“I want to hold you. Stand still.”
“I don't want to make love in your wife's bed.”
“But, it's my bed too.”
“That's worse. It's like I can see the two of you together.”
“Come on now. I don't love her any more. Let me kiss you.”
“Oh, alright.”
“Come on, sit on the bed.”
“We're not sitting. We're lying down.”
“Even better. You're beautiful, you know. Here, let me help you get that off. You feel so nice.”
“Mmm, keep doing that.”
“Sure, Baby.”
“Kiss me again.”
“I'm going to kiss you all over.”
“You're tickling me.”
“How about this?”
“Oh. Oh. Wow! Yes. YES! You're the best!”
“That's what I keep telling you. Stick with me Baby, and I'll take you to the moon.
“All guys promise that.”
“But, I can deliver.
“Look! There’s a shadow on the blinds. Someone's there. At the window.”
CRACK!
“That's a stone. Someone threw a stone in here! Almost hit the bed. What's happening?”
“HENRY! I know you're in there.”
“Hush! Hurry, get into that closet over there.”
“Why?”
“That's my wife.”
“Oh, alright. But, I thought you didn't love her anymore.”
“Just get in the closet. It'll just be a minute.”
“Henry! I'm coming in.”
“Sweetie, I've been waiting for you.”
“On the bed?”
“Where else would I be? I missed you all day. I was here dreaming of your return.”
“Are you alone?”
“What else would I be?
“I thought I heard voices.”
“Just me calling out for you, my sweetie.”
“You really were missing me?”
“Sure. Come here and I'll show you.”
“Well, alright.”
“I love your sweet kisses. Makes me want so much more.”
“I'm sorry I doubted you.”
“Let me prove to you how much I love you.”
“Oh, Henry.”
“I've been dreaming all day of holding you and making love to you. Here, let me help you get that off.”
“Henry, oh, Henry! That's so good! More! More! Ah!”
“I'm still the best, Sweetie.”
“Oh, you are.”
“One more kiss.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“And, another?”
“Yes.”
“But, what do I do about the window?”
“Get it fixed.”
“I'll get my phone and call the repair person.”
“Good idea. I'll be there in a minute... Hush! You can come out of the closet now.”
“I got dressed. But, now, how do I get out of here?
“See that broken window?”
“I'll get cut.”
“Wait. I'll clean the edges with this stone.”
“But, the blinds.”
“I’ll pull them off. Now, you can climb out. The window is big enough.”
“I don't like any of this. Can you imagine how I felt listening to the two of you?”
“About dinner tomorrow night –”
SLAP!
“Why did you do that?”
“You said you didn't love your wife.”
“But, I had to make love to her.”
“Have fun. You can spend the rest of your life making love to her. But, never to me. And, that's final.”
“But, but, but, don't you see?”
“I see all too well. Good! Bye!”
“Baby, baby, come back.”
“Henry! What are you doing?”
 “Oh, hi, Sweetie. I was calling to that brown dog over there. You see it?”
“No, I don't. All I see is one cheap trollop walking up the street. You were calling to her, weren't you? I knew I heard voices. Well, that's it. We're through.”
“Sweetie, no. You must believe me.”
“I'm done believing you.”
“Look, come here. I'll prove my love to you just like I did a few minutes ago.”
“I'm through with that as well.”
“You'll miss me. I'm the one that can make you laugh and cry with passion.”
“I'm laughing and crying with anger right now.”
“Come on, Sweetie, one little kiss. Look at me. I want you.”
“Oh, alright, one little kiss, a good-bye kiss.”
“Mmm. That was so good, I need another.”
“You are a bad boy, but I gotta admit that was good.”
“See, I told you. Come on, let me prove my love to you.”
“I need to call the repair person for the window. Look, even the blind was ripped off. Anyone can see us or hear us.”
“Let them. I'm proud of my love for you. Besides, who's going to look?”
“But, we’re standing right in front of the open window.”
“Stop worrying. We're good together, Sweetie. I never want to lose you. No one else matters. Look down here, you can see how much I want you.”
Public indecency! You're under arrest.”