THEME POETRY
AUGUST 2022 = UNEXPECTED SURPRISES
CAUGHT BY SURPRISE
Kathy Jo Bryant
United States
I didn't see it coming
I was caught by surprise
It knocked me flat upon my face
With no answers to my whys
My mind just keeps on reeling
And sweet sleep eludes my eyes
The way I feel I can't explain
It's hard to realize
How feelings can be hidden
Then surface with such power
Is more than I can understand
I'm learning, hour by hour
I must rise above my feelings
And view things differently
Not take for granted things will stay
The same, contentedly!
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THE LOOK SHE GAVE
Sarfraz Ahmed
She threw like a spear
Came near
Pierced through his heart
At once his breathing ceased
Like an arrow that had been released.
For she did not know
That she’d killed him
There and then
With the look she gave
She destroyed him
Sent him to his grave.
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KINDERGARTEN LESSON: WILL I EVER LEARN?
Neal Whitman
California, United States
I have for years had a great deal of trouble with my shoe-strings, because they get untied continually.,
Henry David Thoreau, Journal, July 25, 1853
Miss White uses a leather boot
large enough for the beanstalk giant
to show us how to tie our shoes tight.
As usual, I am day-dreaming.
At recess we play Red Rover, Red Rover.
When my name is called, I run
as fast as I can. My laces untied, I trip
my way into the unbroken chain of arms.
On my first job interview I wear
black Oxford shoes shined to a gloss.
I step on a lace and trip
my way into the conference room.
I fall flat and do not get the job.
Do you remember 1, 2 buckle my shoe,
3, 4 knock at the door?
Next interview I plan to double-knot.
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TERRIBLE RECORD
Karuna Mistry
United Kingdom
https://karunacreations.wordpress.com/
Raging speed
Gnashing teeth
Stocky thighs
Vestigial arms
Preying habits
Yearly growth
Rex, you lived long ago
But we know all about you
Fossil record
Biomechanics
Reconstructed
Through movies
Documentaries
And fact books
A Jurassic walk in the park
But what colour are you?
Note: Etymology of “dinosaur” from ‘deinks’ and ‘saros’ meaning “terrible lizard” hence the play on the title
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RANDOM TRAJECTORIES
Wanda Herren
Victoria, BC, Canada
https://www.facebook.com/wanda.hurren
https://www.instagram.com/hurrenwanda/
Vancouver – Scientists studying a meteorite that landed in the bedroom of a B.C. woman last year say it was diverted to that path about 470 million years ago….landing on her pillow, next to where she had been sleeping moments earlier. [Times Colonist, January 2022]
Maybe she goes to bed and forgets about the frozen chicken breasts. Forgets she left them thawing on the counter beside the fridge. Maybe something in her early morning dream makes her remember the breasts and she wakes before her alarm goes off. Wanders into her kitchen, places the limp but still cold breasts in her fridge. Maybe that’s the moment when the rock crashes through the bedroom ceiling.
Maybe on the anniversary of her close call she will go to her bank with the key to her safety deposit box. Take out the small black rock. Carry it home in her purse. Set it on her kitchen table. Maybe she will cook chicken breasts in commemoration. Offer up thanks for chickens, the farmers who raise them. Thanks for not being vegan. Maybe she will try again to imagine a path 470 million years long. Try again to remember the dream that woke her.
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A PLEASURE TO DISCOVER
Pratibha Savani
United Kingdom
https://www.instagram.com/pratibhapoetryart
https://www.facebook.com/pratibhapoetryart
writing came naturally to me
just like painting a picture at school
it unleashed itself
without me even realising
what I was creating
at a time of heightened emotions
going through my own troubles
it provided a let go
when no one could understand
it helped calm me down
when I was battling that inner struggle
something magical happened….
my emotions read back to me
beautifully
capturing an intense moment in time
when I needed to have balance
an equilibrium
that was missing
creating an avenue
of creativity
and it grew on me
not for only those low times
but a pleasure to discover
on what else I could write
so freely...
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SHE HAD FROGS IN THE BACKYARD
Diane Lefer
California, United States
https://www.facebook.com/diane.lefer/
After dinner, police at the door.
(It's a crime to wash dishes
if the neighbors call it noise.)
I said, Obnoxious. But
she said, No.
They've never complained
about the crickets or the frogs.
I'll invite them to join us.
Do you think they'll hear me?
I'll show them something.
Do their eyes stay closed?
I'll answer every question
even you never asked
while our cup has no bottom,
water sings in the pipes and
the cup can't be exhausted
of nothing.
(Stridulate, wings.
Swell, little throats.
Noisily we laugh. Yes, noisily.)
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OLLIE OLLIE
Carl “Papa” Palmer
Washington, United States
https://www.facebook.com/carlpapa.palmer.1
Giggling, she runs from the family room couch
where I sit and count, both hands over my eyes.
“1,2,3,4,5 and 5 is 10. Ready or not, here I come.”
First, in the kitchen, opening and slamming cabinet
drawers and doors, “No, not here. Not here, either,”
repeated loud while lifting corners of the tablecloth,
again as I look under a chair cushion, behind the curtain,
then seek into the living room to flip pages of a book
on the shelf, “She's sure hiding good, where can she be?”
Muffled laughter in the closet, ever her same hiding spot,
as I pass the half open door, again not seeing her crouched
smiling presence as I continue my search into the hall.
“I wonder where that girl can be, I've looked everywhere.”
A tug on my pant leg, I turn around in wild surprise,
“Here I am, Papa, right here. See. You couldn't find me.”
“You certainly are a wonderful hider, much better than me.
Now it's my turn.” She counts with covered eyes as I slip
into the closet, same place as when her mommy was small.
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STRAY DOG
Jane H. Fitzgerald
Florida, United States
https://www.facebook.com/JanesPoetry/
https://www.amazon.com/Jane-H.-Fitzgerald/e/B01MSW2FLO
She was a stray who
was thrust upon me
Dropped off on my porch
I really didn't want her
My load was too great
Her fate was death or me
Not being able to choose death
I said yes, only one night
Then we'll find her a home
One night led to two, then three
Now, years later
My adored dog is barely alive
She's deaf, she's lame
She sleeps a lot
Yet, she's still a comfort
She would give her life for me
Always sleeping by my side
Protecting me from danger
My constant companion
My heart is aching
I'm losing a love
That almost wasn't
She lived a life of devotion
A life embraced by me
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PATIENTLY STILL
Richa Dinesh Sharma
That lone kingfisher in its cerulean cape
watching over the walkers by the beach
the runner and the fish-catcher tribe
Quietly, it broods like a veteran from a battle;
only its battle is fought everyday
between the surface of water and
where the light breaks into streaks
The dives need to be timed just right
preparing for the moment
shaping its well-honed flight
There is a distance, a long half a mile
between the treasure it seeks
swimming just above the shallow seabed
somehow, oblivious to its tie
with the winged creature outside
In the kingfisher’s world there’s no gratitude
there is just a wisdom in sharing
the same knowledge as the fish
that there is a suddenness in everything turning
against the elaborate tide of life
and ending stuck inside another’s teeth
Just like the slowing seconds of its glorious dive
emerging, its treasure writhing between its beak
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TORNADO SEASON
Duane Anderson
Nevada, United States
Today was the best time for a tornado
to sneak up and surprise everyone,
at ten in the morning,
the first Saturday of the month
when the sirens were tested,
and most ignored their warnings,
knowing they were set to go off.
Yes, tornado, sneak up.
No one will know until it is too late,
except for one person, me, the worry wart,
who will be down in his bunker,
the only one waiting for a surprise attack.
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LIFE IN THESE TIMES
Lakshman Bulusu
New Jersey, USA
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/127227.Bulusu_Lakshman
What is this life I know not
What is this life I comprehend not
Where both rich and poor soar
Rich to rich, poor to poor
Where cities want to be built in a day
In each and every unimaginable way
Where everyone wants to be an Einstein
To know morals in science, none to opine
Where all praise nature so
For Keats and others did so
Where blooms divine beauty
Only to eulogize a mundane deity
Where all sing its psalm
Alas! In sadistic charm
An unexpectedly surprising life
I know not for what it is still rife
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CITY LIMITS
Judy DeCroce
New York, United States
https://www.linkedin.com/in/judydecroce/
​
It had once been a city without a name,
then they called it Consequence.
The streets were always crowded.
Executives rushing for meetings.
Shoppers—just people moving,
surging on a blue October Tuesday.
She kept speeding up,
keeping with the flow.
It had been a long time and things changed—
people change.
She wasn’t the same person;
no one is.
“Wait,” he yelled.
He ran to catch up.
Slowly she turned.
It was then he noticed her eyes,
flashing on and off.
Smoothing her fur,
while putting on a tricky smile,
she thought, “Finally he understands."
Later, in the car,
his glance was quick—furtive.
He continued to drive too fast.
Poem by Judy DeCroce first appeared in Tigershark Publishing May / 2022
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THE COLD IN HIS NOSE
Ken Gosse
United States
It was just a short doze
but the wind froze his nose
which he blows with a silken kerchief.
To his great disbelief
it broke off, and Good Grief!
A mouse carried it off like a thief.
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HOLDEN
Julie A Dickson
New Hampshire, United States
​
They told her she was barren,
damaged womb felt as sad
as her empty heart, no baby
to love - until work from home;
quietly allowed fetus to implant, calling
to her, I will be born.
​
Dark blue eyes not open much
at first, so sleepy and hungry,
arms stretched out over his head,
emerged from my daughter, already loved,
held close to hearts, swaddled tight;
cannot stop touching his soft head.
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HOW IS LIFE…
Najma Naseer Bhatti
Sindh.Pakistan
How is life…
Sometimes it’s like butterfly’s wings,
Sometimes it’s like the hot sand of the desert..
Sometimes it’s like falling leaves in autumn,
How is life…
Sometimes its like the flowers that bloom in spring…
Sometimes it’s like a little coral bud,
Sometimes its like walking barefoot in the desert…
Sometimes the rain is like raindrops,
How is life…
It’s like someone’s puzzle ever given,
It’s like the never-ending threads,
It’s like the ever-present fibers,
How is life…
Sometimes it’s like the darkness of night,
Sometimes like the first rays of the sun,
Sometimes it’s like understanding in an instant,
Sometimes it’s like not
understanding,
How is life…
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OSPREY IN TREE WITH FISH
John Muro
Connecticut, United States
​
It wasn’t the bird settled on bough.
but the pour of pewter caught
in a net of mid-day light.
​
A bafflement of brown,
some thirty feet from ground,
head of orchid white,
​
transformed into something other
than a burl of bark. A purple
brush of lilac
​
we had passed just steps before
spectacle came to sight; how discord
cradles then chafes.
​
Casually consuming its catch,
surprised it was not taken back
to nest. Perhaps the weight
​
of prey prevented further lift
beyond the marsh of silt
and brackish
​
water. A want to forestall
a life beyond survival
that even its keen sight
​
could not craft or fathom,
minding the fish’s gruesome
struggle for release
​
and our crude intrusion.
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CHAOS IN CLARKSVILLE
Mark Hudson
United States
I have a friend who once lived in Clarksville.
He said when he first moved there he was
reading in the National Enquirer that;
“Local funeral homes had abundance
of garbage to throw out, and they were
Burying it in people’s coffins with them,
or burying people underground without
a coffin, to save money.” And my friend
thought, “But it’s the National Enquirer!
It couldn’t possibly be true!” However,
it turned out to be totally true! Then
there was the case around here in Chicago,
Where a bunch of crack addicts were
burying three bodies to one grave to
Save money up for crack. Let’s “save
The grave” for its sacred place-a
Milestone in a lifetime of accomplishment!
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DO YOU HAVE A BROTHER?
Mike Ball
United States
“Do you have a brother around here?”
Odd question as that was,
odder still to hear it many times. and places
In the Ukrainian bakery,
again in the tiny A&P,
One puzzled bartender had to say,
“There’s this one guy who looks just like you.”
I live in the grit, knisheries,
and Hells Angels street theater noises.
Workday is order and elegance
at MOMA, where even coffee mugs
are part of the design collection.
I turn right to take the B or D,
until I met myself on the way.
Blond, cotton-candy hair and red ‘stache.
There was a guy who looked just like me.
In a sing song, he asked me for change.
Then he looked at me and I at him.
Of course, I would give him/me money…
We were the same, my phantom brother.
He was from New Jersey, our same age.
His Rutgers degree brought him no job.
His parents said, “Come home. Stay with us.”
He would try to make it on his own,
Local mendicants come in classes.
Some are dirty-smellies. Don’t touch those.
A few are false starts, idling briefly.
He grows tired of his milk-carton seat.
Even Jersey can offer haven.
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COME FULL MOON
Antoni Ooto
New York, United States
https://www.linkedin.com/in/antoniooto/
there was always a hunt. That fall
I was workin’ the woods, my Blueticks
treein’ ‘coons.
Sure enough, one night I go put up a light
when Ole Jake gets a whiff of somethin’
and off he goes.
Now it’s me trippin’ all over creation,
like an ass, lookin’ to find him.
Finally, threw down my hat…damn it,
and left it there.
Sure enough,
next mornin’, son-of-a-bitch,
there he is just alayin’ on it…yup all night.
And with that sideways look, sayin’,
“Where You been?”
Poem by Antoni Ooto first appeared in
OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters
Fall / 2020
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AN OLD MAN SEES HIS BRAIN
Nolo Segundo
The doctor put the disc
into the side of the computer
so the old man could see
the MRI of his old brain.
She gently, almost lyrically
pointed to its dark spaces,
so he could see how time
shrinks all life, even the brain.
But the old man smiled,
and said to the young doctor
[who was but half his age],
‘It’s a funny thing, Doc,
how only in old age have
I become a poet, and
a published one at that!
My brain is lessening,
shrinking, while my mind
is ever growing--
reaching into spaces
both small and vast,
ever seeking,
ever wondering,
ever rhapsodizing
the world…’
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ONE FOOT IN FRONT
Kassie J Runyan
New York, United States
Kassiejrunyan.com
Outside the house,
is there any other place
where you could go?
Across the street
that is paved with threats
and a life…
unknown.
Oh, my dear girl,
take a step outside.
You know the threats
live only in your head.
Oh, my brave girl,
one foot in front
and then the other.
Lift your head up high
and make your own damn path.
The unknown future
is the best part.
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CRASH
Kassie J Runyan
New York, United States
KassieJRunyan.com
​
i crash left
and dig my
fingers in.
dangling,
with only the
slightest tremor,
towards
sweet death.
__________
​
Melanie Haagman
United Kingdom
https://www.facebook.com/Girlontheedge90
​
The laugher that’s wholesome
Comes straight from inside,
The laughter that’s real
You’re unable to hide.
Nothing compares to laughter
When your stomach is in pain,
Even if you don’t feel it,
It helps you to stay sane.
The laughter where your cheeks ache
Is what I truly treasure,
You can’t overdose on laughter
There’s an infinite measure.
Smiling makes others smile,
Mirror neurons are so real,
And laughter has an effect
On how you deeply feel.
Reducing stress and even pain,
Immunity’s increased,
laughter is infectious
And endorphins are released.
Laughing is the best medicine,
In this life that can be tough
And if you can hold onto it,
It might just be enough!
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