Poets of Issue Two

Poets of Issue Two

 

Neil Ellman

Changming Yuan

Richard Doiron

Lee Evans

Juliet Wilson

Jana Branch

Beth Winter

Ernest Williamson

Dweep Mustang

Arun Budhathoki

Jan Turner-Jones

Charles Darnell

Amy Barry

Dhirendra Kumar Shah

Prathiba Wilson

Larry Javier Ambion

Michelle D’costa

Rati Agnihotri

Dag and Maya

Tahera Moiz Mannan

Ashish Bandooni

Rachael Stanley

Shaily Sahay 

One poem by Neil Ellman

The Meaning of Blue

What if a blue whale

were not really blue

and a blue jay

blue only by refracted light—

why, then, would I believe

in red or green

or the color of your soul?

Neil Ellman lives and writes in New Jersey, USA.  His poetry appears in numerous print and online journals throughout the world, from Australia to Zimbabwe.  Among them are Alba, Anastomoo, Bolts of Silk, The Camel Saloon, Indigo Rising, Phantom Kangaroo and Yes, Poetry.

The latest of his eight chapbooks is Convergence & Conversion: Ekphrastic Poems from The Knives Forks and Spoons Press.   

One poem by Changming Yuan

Just a quick note: A parallel poem
            
Sorry 
To have
Changed
The lock
Though
I had
Strongly 
Wished
There 
Would 
Never
Be 
Such 
Need

Changming Yuan, 4-time Pushcart nominee and author of Chansons of a Chinaman, grew up in rural China, holds a PhD in English, and currently works as a private tutor in Vancouver; his poetry has appeared in nearly 510 literary publications across 20 countries, including Asia Literary Review, Barrow Street, Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, London Magazine, Paris/Atlantic, Poetry Kanto, Poetry Salzburg Review, SAND and Taj Mahal Review.

One poem by Richard Doiron

As You'd Pause upon Your Path

Today, once again, you'd pause 
upon your path, reaching for ribbons 
and roses, which you'd find 
in profusion.

In the stirring of the stream, 
you'd wade and you'd wash the dust 
from your frame. Soon enough,

refreshed, you'd spring to her space, 
nuzzle her neck and whisper in her ear 
such words every fool wishes to hear.

In your travels, once more, you'd have 
parlayed yourself through the portals 
of Paradise, even at the expense 
of her heart. Today, however, as you'd

pause upon your path, she'd be searching 
her soul, and tonight, with love's 
sweetest of songs the lease upon her lips, 
she'd be barring her door.

Richard Doiron, 65, poet, Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada. He is the author of 18 books. Twice nominated for the Governor-General's Award; work read at the United Nations, the 4th World Congress of Poetry & Cultures; winner of several International literary competitions; an estimated 1000 poems published in books and anthologies; recipient of the 2012 World Poetry Lifetime Achievement Award. 

One poem by Lee Evans

The Siesta of Socrates’ Dog

Don’t make me tell you the truth

It’s best to let sleeping dogs lie

Instead you poke and you prod

And think it’s so cute

When you whisper my name in my ear

My tail thumps on the floor

My whiskers twitch when you tickle me

You can’t leave well enough alone

One day I’ll leap up and I’ll bite you

And then we’ll both be sorry

All I want is to go on dreaming

Let me continue lying that way

Lee Evans lives in Bath, Maine, and works for the local YMCA. His poems have appeared in such journals as Contemporary Rhyme, The Christendom Review and Decanto. His five poetry collections are available on Lulu.com.

One poem by Juliet Wilson

Flood

They told us we were safe.
Then without warning, came the floods.
We built walls to try to tame the sea
but no use
our lives dissolved in tidal waves.

Juliet Wilson is a writer, adult education tutor and conservation volunteer based in Edinburgh, UK. She edits the poetry journal Bolts of Silk. Her recent work has been published in Sketchbook, Notes from the Underground and Snake Oil Cure. She blogs at Crafty Green Poet:  http://craftygreenpoet.blogspot.com

One poem by Jana Branch

The Look of Certain Sounds

Your suffering mouth on my ear, my suffering
mouth buried in our sheets— this loss of civic normalcy 

finally lights a clandestine gap that words have not,
begins to lace tender and lascivious thoughts and unravel 

the relentless commitment to What Should Be— the idea
that We are any Measure of any Thing. My suffering 

mouth moans the lowest language, so as never to be
mistaken as nobility or sanctity. I annul the contract 

with this destiny. Stroke my alien skin.
Eye my virgin lips. Again. Yet Again. I begin. 

Jana Branch is a poet, screenwriter and communications strategist currently based in Santa Monica, California. Find more of her work at: janabranch.wordpress.com

One poem by Beth Winter

Judas kiss

as brackish beads pollute spring rain
and orbs absorb infected red
betrayal breeds a filth-strewn bed

deception leaves acidic stains
defiling sleep as virtues weep
dishonor kisses tender veins

reluctance thrives in trust struck dead
and brackish beads pollute spring rain

Beth Winter writes poetry, prose, and anything else her itchy pen decides to scratch. She has authored over 600 poems, nearly as many journals and has possibilities piled around her. She lives and works in the beautiful Kansas Flint Hills. Read more of her work at: http://eclipsingwinter.com/

One poem by Ernest Williamson

In and out of exodus

spotted calf
next to the bated window
carpenters are needed today
in the red orange yelping brick yellow blocks
crumbling with ease and reluctance
pouncing along
me
I'm the prey
as the dead as the living
as those who adjust their ties
bonds and weak dollars fall with ash
manageable but directly in the midst of America
policies are beginning to end with plasticity
people become mannequins
as if they knew a nook was more than its facade
oddly enough
I've carried the spotted calf from Rome
and placed it next to my toothbrush
its bristles are misleading
clean looking unused
lying
and tempting me
to let
it
be
alone.

Dr. Ernest Williamson III has published poetry and visual art in over 380 national and international online and print journals. Some of his visual art and poetry has been published in journals representing over 35 colleges and universities around the world. To read more of his work, visit his website: www.yessy.com/budicegenius

One poem by Dweep Mustang

Shades of Irony

Self immolation in a land not far,

Blasphemy, lies giving birth to a moral war.

What is Truth?

Self immolation? Or a lie?

I know not!

But this I know

'Voice of the people to be the voice of God'.

Yet, helpless in my own tranquil thoughts.

What is Truth? And what is a lie?

Masochistically, I know not

I know not.

A note on the poem: The poem portrays the Draconian attitude and the veil of lies of the Chinese authority and the peace keeping authority of the world towards the Tibetan people.

Dweep Mustang hails from Soreng, West Sikkim. He is the author of the book The Sanctum of Art — Madness & Creativity. He is currently working as a columnist/ journalist for Sikkim Express and contributor for the literary journal The Applicant. Many of his poems and essays have been published in journals from all around the world. He is more of a writer, poet, columnist, painter as well as avid reader and a modest human being.

One poem by Arun Budhathoki

May 27^th

Hope is what kept us alive

Awake

Expecting Constitution finally

Dreams crushed

Leaders punished poor citizens

Plucking off their decaying dreams

I’m going to Bhaktapur today to release the dead dreams

To the Ancients,

I’m tired of living in this augur age

Civilization cursed

Economy falling apart

Nation nullified almost,

I do not care anymore

To carry the burden of concern and worry

I’m exhausted, tired

Superficial smiles and worries

Prompt me to puke

All over the disgusting faces of these pathetic leaders

I wish I could do this

I wish I could make them leave

And pay for the wrongdoings against all.

Arun Budhathoki (Daniel Song) is from Nepal. He is an aspiring poet, writer and founding-editor of The Applicant, a Kathmandu based online literary journal. He is the author of a poetic collection 'Edge' which is available online at Amazon. He has contributed his poems to a number of literary journals from around the world. Visit his page at Mad Swirl Journal to read more of his poems: http://madswirl.com/content/poetry/Arun_Budhathoki.html

One poem by Jan Turner-Jones

The Shape of the World

The lies we tell children

are shaping the world:

Is being born painful?

Is God the whole deal?

Will robots rule people?

Are night-monsters real?

Does dying spoil living?

Does love make us feel?

Does crying destroy us

or help us to heal?

The lies shape the answers—

the shape of the world.

Jan Turner-Jones has written in various genres since she was a small girl at boarding school:  three volumes of adult poetry; 50 children’s poems in two volumes; had six songs in the ASA Top 10; edited Semper Floreat at Queensland University; written reviews and articles for literary journals; won the R Carson Gold Short Story Prize. In 2009 her comedy play Achy Breaky Heart debuted. She has now completed two musicals and is working on her second novel.

One poem by Charles Darnell

Human Nature

Forgive me, Father

For I have sinned.

My last Confession

Was too recent to admit.

Charles Darnell lives in San Antonio, TX and is a member of The Sun Poets Society and Opencity360 Poets and Writers Group. His work has appeared in Voices Along the River.

One poem by Amy Barry

New Beginnings

Anger pumps 

through her body, blood pounds 

at temples, eyes narrowing in irritation 

at text, her fingers work expertly

the keys on the touch screen,

composing… what?

A year ago, they exchanged vows,

a meaningful pledge. Today, a decision 

is made, not her choice.

She feels a mixture of fear

being alone and yet, relief,

tears mingled with pride.

Today, she goes

on a different route,

a new journey.

Amy Barry writes poems and short stories. Her poems have been published in anthologies, journals, and e-zines, in Ireland and abroad. Her works have been read on radio. She loves traveling and trips to India, Nepal, China, Bali, Paris and Berlin. These places have inspired her work, too. She lives in Athlone, Ireland.

One poem by Dhirendra Kumar Shah

be lie f

seven years it took

for the be lie f to

show fissures 

the belying lie

nestled with the voice

of a baby's breathing

and the confident texture of fur

inhabits now a veil

of bite and frost

Dhirendra Kumar Shah lives in Mumbai, originally from Kalimpong, India. He has a master's degree in English literature. Currently, he is preparing for a Ph.D program. He works part-time as an academic content writer for colleges affiliated to the University Of Mumbai. Dhirendra is the chief editor of Teesta Rangeet, an online poetry journal. His works have appeared in The Applicant and his poem 'Stairway Companion' is coming up in The Passionate Transitory, a UK quarterly journal.

One poem by Prathiba Wilson

Body of Lies

A tremor jolted through my body,
I woke up with irrepressible anger,
Like a blotch of ink spreading through placid water,
The doubt crept through me.
What if you grew up in doctrines of lie?
Lies become your truth,

Running through every web of your vein,
Etched in every cell of your brain,
Every sinew will cry for lie,
Bones can be broken, not your conviction about the lie!

How do you transform your body of lie without regenerating it?
How do you regenerate it without killing it?
Will drowning in the expanse of sea cleanse the lie?
Or burning down to ashes smoke the lie out?

Could truth and lie be the bipolar opposites?
The invisible line connecting them through the centre of the earth.
The absolute opposites holding each other’s hands!
Could it be the face that can’t see the back sculpted in the same body?

I was a floating balloon swollen with air of doubt,
Looking for a needle in the haystack to prick and release the air.

If I travel through the line to the other pole,
Will I find the truth (needle) I was hidden from, or,
Will I find the lie (needle) I was warned about?
If truth and lie are bipolar opposites what would I find midway?

Is truth a necessity or the luxury of the avant-garde minds?

A commoner that I am,

I decided to rest my body of lie and will myself

back to the slumber,

A slumber which rested on the truth I believed in

and the lie I never knew of until a time,

A time when truth became a necessity

and I had the luxury of avant-garde minds,

An avant-garde mind that knew which pole I stood guard of!

For that I summoned the forces of nature, because

I believed in them bringing me closer to the truth

than I could myself!

Prathiba Wilson took to writing to funnel her wandering thoughts into a creative pursuit. Her native is a small village near Kanyakumari, currently settled in Chennai, India. Her previous works have appeared in Indian Ruminations, Marco Polo Arts and Kalyani Online literary magazine.