Cpj viii

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Cpj viii

  1. 1. December 2011 ::: Nollaig 2011 Artwork by Luana StebulėAnthony Sullivan (Ireland) , L. Summerton Morgan (USA), Tomás Ó Cárthaigh (Ireland), Spiros Kitsinelis (Greece / France), Hal O Leary(USA), Matthew Walz (USA), Tatjana Debeljacki (Serbia), Lizzie Corsi (USA) Bernard Lorimer (Northern Ireland), Randall Aittaniemi (USA),Sabahudin Hadžialic (Bosnia and Herzegovina), Deepak Chaswal (India), Erica (USA). Kathy Coman (USA), Kim Wilson (USA), GonzaloSalesky (Agentina), Rishan Singh (South Africa), Luiza Flynn-Goodlett (USA), Irena Jovanovic (Serbia),Dan Castle (USA), Greg Gunn(Canada), Lisa McCraw, (USA), Matthew Bell (Australia), Laura Cleary (Ireland), Niall O Conner (Ireland) Evin Okçuoglu (Turkey), SimonRhee (USA), Elizabeth A. Fontaine (USA), Luana Stebule (Lithuania), Barbara Wühr (Germany / France), Frank C. Praeger (USA)Cartys Poetry Journalwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  2. 2. Activism and the PoetForeword Activism is on the rise, look around, noAs 2011 draws to a close, we have again mistake can be made about it. No more areanother great year on which to look back, people standing on the sidelines, they arewhere we brought the best of poetry from getting out there to make their voices heard.Ireland and around the world to a readership What effect that they are having is totallyin Ireland and around the world. another story, but they are getting out there anyway.We have seen and partaken in the 100,000Poets for Change event, and look forward to From the Occupy! Movement – the Irishpartaking in the 2012 event, we will be activism which is largely ignored here in thecharting the participation in the 10 Years and local press – to the 100,000 Poets for ChangeCounting Project, we have seen the launch of event, started on Facebook by Michaelthe book locally by Ken Hume in Tullamore Rothenberg, to the 10 Years and Counting“Snowstorm of Doubt and Grace”, and event against the wars in the middle east andreported on the poetic events around Ireland. elsewhere, its not just street marches, but a cultural movement which is orgainising andIn the year to come, we hope to have a print uprising.edition going (a short lived ambition realisedin earlier issues!!!) that is carried in shops, As we face into 2012, let us remember theetc. For now, we will be online only. poets and bloggers in jail in Burma and China in particular, and elsewhere unknown aroundFormatting of the Magazine the world. Anther poetic spirit and artist in jail we remember is Leonard Peltier, jailed by theThe magazine is now in a formatting stage, USA for a crime he did not commit. In a recentrhyming poems come in the first section, non letter published by Whisper n Thunder herhyming after. Other features are scattered thanks his supporters and outlines some ofthroughout. Let us know how you find this to the blank issues heretofor kept out of theuse. limelight in the case. In this coming year... let us continue to be active. The pen can be as mighty as the sword. Swords may fight wars... but it takes a pen to sign the peace!www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  3. 3. ContentsRhyming Poetry Non Rhyming PoetsAnthony Sullivan (Ireland) Tatjana Debeljacki (Serbia)Our Moonlight Serenade Are ThereI Think I Just Felt My Heart Break There IsWhite Flag From My Heart I Will Never Forget That NightA Prisoner Of This LoveOur Spirit From The Soil Lizzie Corsi (USA)L. Summerton Morgan (USA) CaptivatedGranmas’ Molasses News Item - "108 Breaths"BlindedDusty Roads Bernard Lorimer (Northern Ireland)Freemans MillWhitecaps on the Sea The WavesA Pocket Full of Marbles Atom +A Moment of Silence Better Off in the Bog End of NowhereTomás Ó Cárthaigh (Ireland) Randall Aittaniemi (USA)A Month of Mondays Contrite RemarksIf Poets Had Consequence ErosionWriter Forgetting their Readers The Nomad that would be HeroWords Written in Anger and Anguish (Anne Sexton) Heading WestTurbulent Seas Unconscious WonderWhere Snow is But a Dream (Haiku)Morning After the Night Before Sabahudin Hadžialic (Bosnia and Herzegovina)Walking by Trees at the Grand Canal, Tullamore" "Anonymous" by Anonymous (me!!!) " Reality Filmed Vice VersaSpiros Kitsinelis (Greece / France) Living In ‘The Dreams’ Street Repeticio Est Mater StudiorumI Drink to You LifeFor You Dont Know Copy Paste States, Pardon Me, CitiesHal O Leary (USA) Ananas And Banana Blues For My Ex-Country/HomelandHomecoming Country SongI’m Not Sure How If Only I Were YoungerThe InnocentWar Is Hell Deepak Chaswal (India)My LifeDear Friend “Man” "Freedom"Matthew Walz (USA) “Death by Water” "Angels/Demons"Maiden of the Night "Meeting with Christ"My Enemy “Superman”Tragedy in the Fall Erica (USA)NEWS: "Arise & Go Now" Release Three Years DownNEWS: Offaly Writers Set to Join the Million Clubwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  4. 4. Kathy Coman (USA) Matthew Bell (Australia)Rain Silent World Mr MockingbirdKim Wilson (USA) Cleansing Rain Dark Moon RisingBold StatementsDays Laura Cleary (Ireland)Gifts PossibilitiesGonzalo Salesky (Argentina) RunawayYou Will Be Niall O Conner (Ireland)HarlequinsOmen In Search of RootsRishan Singh (South Africa) Evin Okçuoglu (Turkey)My Friend We Had Known We could not understandLuiza Flynn-Goodlett (USA) Simon Rhee (USA)The VisionFossor’s Lament HaikuAnimal TimeThe Times Elizabeth A. Fontaine (USA)Irena Jovanovic (Serbia) Scars That Run DeepOne Raindrop Luana Stebule (Lithuania)My Dear SoulHoney Like Sweetness FarceMy Radiant Lotus Garden TwistUnited In Love OnlySweet Fragrance Of Your Soul Other WayHow Can I LabelsThis Is A Wonderful Day Anike (name)Nothing Compares To You, Lord SatoriLike A QueenEnergy Of Colours Of Life Barbara Wühr (Germany / France)Golden DawnRadha & Krishna I - Sunbeams II - Revealing TruthDan Castle III - Cosmic Cords IV - Day of St.BarbaraOnce More Into the Breach.. V - Pégase lami de mon âme V – Pegasus, the friend of my soul… (Translation)Greg Gunn (Canada) VI – I love you so much…SHEEP SEARCH SKYWARD Frank C. Praeger (USA)THIS ATHENIAN SITELEAVENED APHRODITE A Fretted PatienceREPETITIOUS REAPING How to Say ItBEDRIDDEN A Topping Off Fixated ManeuversLisa McCraw, (USA) ExuberantShe Fell Like a Raindrop News Item: "Whisper n Thunder Cookbook"www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  5. 5. Anthony Sullivan ::: IrelandAnthony Sullivan needs no introduction to long time readers of this magazine, having had his work featured on these pages in practicallyevery issue since its launch some two or so years ago now. Further work can be read on his website www.anthonysullivan.biz OUR MOONLIGHT SERENADE I THINK I JUST FELT MY HEART BREAK Beneath a starlight symphony I think I just felt my heart break Playing our moonlight serenade If pain can feel like an earthache The sky belongs to you and me Cos there you are again with him Tonight our dreams are on parade In one more photo youre both in Each secret wish at last revealed And he has his arm around you While whispers of passion cascade And your smile says you want him to Beneath a starlight symphony And it hurts more than I can take Playing our moonlight serenade I think I just felt my heart break { CHORUS } I think I just felt my heart break Evry breath lost is worth the cost And now Im left just waitin on To all lovers on their crusade Those tears I know are sure to come ( CHORUS ) And you bring breathlessness to me As sure as now, I know youre gone When love is shown and love is made And youre gone now, theres no mistake During our moonlight serenade I think I just felt my heart break The stars sparkle like our hearts beat I think I just felt my heart break Dancing our moonlight serenade If pain can feel like an earthquake We move in time til times no more And leave your world the lonesome view Oh how your lips softly persuade Of four damn horsemen stormin through That all the world my arms could want Its last nights news in todays light I hold in you, our promise made The tale of how a dream took flight While stars sparkle like our hearts beat And it hurts more than I can take Dancing our moonlight serenade I think I just felt my heart break { REPEAT CHORUS X 2 } REPEAT CHORUS Beneath a starlight symphony And I dont want to know about We dance our moonlight serenade Moments the camera did not see The one it caught was bad enough { REPEAT CHORUS } To leave me in this agony How you bring breathlessness to me REPEAT CHORUS X 2 During our moonlight serenade. Oh he has his arm around you And your smile says you want him to I think I just felt my heart breakwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  6. 6. WHITE FLAG FROM MY HEART Wear those signs that say were closin down And my heart might well soon wear one too Oh Kellie Cos i think Im good as gone to you, but Why do you smile like that Straight at me REPEAT CHORUS Cos now Im smilin back And I cant seem to stop myself And yet i know should freedom somehow And I dont want to turn away Be offered on this or any day Kellie, what have you gone and done Still a prisoner of this hopeless love To this poor boys heart today Would my weak heart choose freely to stay, oh Oh Kellie I wonder would you REPEAT CHORUS X 2 Keep on smilin still if you knew What your smiles been doin to me ( CHORUS ) REPEAT VERSE 1 And doin to me from the start Cos Kellie, what your sweet smile does As a prisoner of this love. Is get a white flag from my heart OUR SPIRIT FROM THE SOIL Oh Kellie Can you tone down your glow Oh Mother Earth, all glorious Then maybe And cradle of humanity Well maybe I might go Beneath your skies, beyond all ties From weeks beginning to its end All souls once soared in harmony Without searchin the late-night sky For sign of somethin bright as you But Mother Earth, so wonderous But you shine brightest to my eye We have suffered such cruelty Our fellow man, claiming your land REPEAT CHORUS As their birth-right of prophecy, but So Kellie There is no force under heaven Where do I go from here Can steal our spirit from the soil You got me No barrier can break the bond Always wishin youre near Of all the blood, and tears and toil And near as I can get to you From a centuries deep belonging ( Chorus ) Aint close enough to satisfy That grows a love forever loyal Thoughts tangled up here in my heart Hands can take, just what they can reach That my heads tryin to deny But nothing can steal our spirit Can steal our spirit from the soil REPEAT CHORUS X 2 Oh Brother Sun, your light has shone Oh Kellie On darker ground where life bled thru Why do you smile like that For stolen homes and broken bones Straight at me And history hidden out of view Cos now Im smilin back Oh Sister Moon, youve seen our tears Oh, now Im smilin back For how the way of life we knew Yeah, you got me smilin back Blazed the trail to a promised land Where honored promises were few, but A PRISONER OF THIS LOVE REPEAT CHORUS Darlin i could wait a whole day through In the hope of just a word from you Oh Brother Sun and Sister Moon But when such luck dont break the silence And Mother Earth, mother of all I just go on servin my sentence, and Through your world we are but travllers Short is the time before we fall Im still a prisoner of this love And we know all we truly own Love that i never can reveal We leave for those who follow on Always bound by those emotions ( CHORUS ) In ways some who would deny us That i know not, how not to feel Will never know were never gone, cos I stay, a prisoner of this love Always a prisoner of this love REPEAT CHORUS And all the streets all around this town REPEAT VERSE 1www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  7. 7. L. Summerton Morgan (USA) Granmas’ Molasses Dusty Roads Granma made the biscuits The dusty road i grew up on granpa tended fields is all but vanished, all but gone as children chased the chickens replaced by asphalt, barren, cold gathered feathers for their quills. The homestead lost, despairing, sold. A ragged dog named Hobo Grandpas plow lies rotting where that never had much sense he left it lie, last he was there spent hours chasing rabbits the open well is safely sealed that ventured out the fence. replaced by monthly water bills. A kitty cat named Punkin’ The ditch that made my grandpa gripe we discovered in the ditch the city folk replaced with pipe by Maple Tree where Granpa’d shade the fish are gone, the crawdads went ‘n supplied my Gran’ma’s switch. their muddied home now cold cement. A place where time seemed endless Carlisles wood-planked genral store dirt roads and iced tea glasses where old men gathered, lie, and swore where time ne’r grew any older soda pop and sweet Moonpies soppin biscuits in Gran’s Molasses. was torn asunder, Carlisle died. Blinded Shooting marbles, circles drawn upon dirt roads un-traveled onBlinded by the night where demons oft come out to play where children played from dawn to eve Sightless, the enlightened, there, among where in fancied worlds of make-believe. monsters layHidden neath the shadows lurking, waiting for the child i wonder where the kids have gone Who never sought to see beyond, the haunted and (locked inside with TVs on) reviled. who never have, who never know’d the simpler times on Dusty Road… There among the oft allied, sighted others play Tread upon the maddened, who defy the light of day Freemans Mill Who never looked upon the shadowed placid or the calm The old mill long had closed its doors Forever cast in darkness, where the torment met the rotting wheel would turn no more aplomb. no grain to grind, no country stores where old men sat, told stories, swore... Where upon we walk alongside each and every day The walking interrupted seeking shelter from malaise And rocks that formed the waterfallWho ask for naught ‘side reasoning of those replete with became the playground for us all norm on summer days, it beckoned, calledBlinded in the darken, lighted sheltered from the storm. beneath the old mills rotting walls.... The chill of water, mountain-fed awakened spirits, long since dead where millers’ children once were fed on banks upon which lovers wed. And yet i hear the echoes still where laughter of the children filled those rotting walls upon the hill ‘twas once the home to Freemans Mill....www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  8. 8. Whitecaps on the Sea Time would take those marbles He had gathered ‘long the way Dancing on the waves And render them asunder are wing-ed angels by the sea On the playgrounds where he play… whose fathers sailed and perished while they waited patiently Until such time as age defined Lost unto the graveyard of Those marbles he had lost Atlantics Cape Fear coast Would redefine his memories fortunes lost forevermore And spent at such a cost… and haunted by the ghosts. He’s long since lost the shooter Who frequent estuaries Daddy’s gift to eldest son seeking freedom from the grave He recollects with sadness where currents buried treasures All the tasks he’s left undone… the angels dance on waves And daughters of the fathers Among his daily duties who waited patiently Ever seeking, yet to find sail forevermore and dance That precious tiny marble as whitecaps on the sea.... Represents his state of mind…. A Pocket Full of Marbles A Moment of Silence A child just half past six Drawing circles in the sand A moment of silence is called for today Waging tiny marbles As we take a moment toand to pray Firmly gripped within his hand. For our fallen brethren who’ve fallen in war Far from their homeland and welcoming shore. His favorite, a shooter Daddy’s gift, he never bet For all of our sons and daughters who serve Lest he not remember Protecting our freedom, it’s time to observe Lest forever, he forget…. A moment of silence, for those underway Fighting our battles, as heroes are they. He waged those tiny marbles ‘gainst the best that came his way Who give of themselves, that we who remain On dirt-lined streets and playgrounds At home, do not falter, or fail,wane Where he ventured everyday… For this is our mission, it’s their sacrifice All of our heroes are paying the price. And there along life’s highway Tiny marbles represent Pray for our heroes, for those left behind Lessons learned from winning Pray for the comfort and loss of affined. And the losses he had spent… For those altruistic, unselfishly pay A moment of silence is called for today.Matters of the Heart is being re-released in limited quantities. The 2011 Edition will include240 Poems and 4 Short Stories/Tales. Each copy will be autographed personally by theauthor to the individual purchaser.Leon continues to write and share his poetry online. You may find him at the following links:Send a friend request to: http://www.facebook.com/LSummertonMorgan“i welcome new friends and readers and will direct you to my poetry pages. Moreinformation will be provided when the 2011 Edition is completed. Thank You ALL for yourcontinued support and kindness!” - Leonwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  9. 9. Poetry – Tomás Ó CárthaighWriter Forgetting their Readers Where Snow is But a DreamWords written in worry Elsewhere snow fallsChart the horrors of the mind Child is dreaming of snowmenDont make pleasant reading Summer sun beats down.For the reader who may findToo much raw emotion Morning After the Night BeforeFrom a writer seeking a shoulder to cryForgetting the reader may have problems Last night, they walked and talkedFor whom a way out is not to die. And fought and kissed and whatever else as well This morning the hangover strikesWords Written in Anger and Anguish (Anne Sexton) Too many stories not to tell And live and hope that nothing happenedAs Sexton slowly slid out of control, a feature of her That will show in time a night of the pastwriting was to go to free verse from rhyme. Love is great to share when at the time we share it But such fleeting lust will rarely lastWith words written in anger and anguish Too many look at each other with guilty eyesFrom rhyme to free verse she veered After the nights dalliances of the heartThe former written when demons under control In awkward silences and words - whichever worseThe latter when they were freed, unsteered They manage in mumbles to greet and partShe careered across the page with words The morning after, sometimes they thinkHer therapy became our literature, we read The lesser part of the hangover is caused by the drink!Without guilt, as if her medical notes, which werereleased Walking by Trees at the Grand Canal, TullamoreWhen they should not have been, psychiatry meetspoetry: instead Arms to sky, they wave good morningA new genre, and old story, and neither the therapy As I walk by, maybe a warninghelped the poetry Watch where you fly, the sky adorningOr the poetry enhanced the therapy Birds that cry, they may leave their markAnd like reading all medical notes Believed good luck to be by someThe reader is none the wiser for reading, and can be Who never, from work walking have comeLittle the better afterwards. Had a bird shit upon their clothes Could be worse - going to work Id suppose...Turbulent Seas I nod good morning to the bare leafed trees Who stand arms to the sky at ease..."as easily as an old woman reads a palm"Crossing the Atlantic - Anne Sexton " "Anonymous" by Anonymous (me!!!) "Journey set upon with an illusion of a boat Someone wrote this poem, without a nameBy one who could not swim, but read a tale From rage and anger, with pen they cameOf a man who walked on water in Gallilee Better to spill ink, I think, than bloodAnd thought she too could not fail Though to spill the latter they wish they couldSo to walk on the waters of her emotions But we have seen enough of war and killingBut it was not to be, faster than she could think And it will all pass in time God willingWith a glass of vodka in hand, she took on the waves So we will take the beatings and the tear gasAnd found the only way was down... she did sink. Voice our anger ignored, bear the load as the crisesThe old woman of her writings if she were to read slowly pass...Would she have seen that garage in her palmWould she have foretold her, or told a fairy taleHer worries and her agitation to calm?Each person - each of us has a destinyHers charted as if her words were each a medical noteHow many were written with watered eyesRead to hear their sound, each caught in her throat?www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  10. 10. A Month of Mondays They Slept in PeaceIt seems as if with all thats on War and slaughter disturbed them not- And its not only somedays - For over thousands of yearsEverything than can has gone wrong As nation after nation invadedAs if a month of Mondays With guns, and swords and spearsBut yet I try to soldier onAnd make it work my way Through famines they were not disturbedAnd that things get done at all When they were it was not from needIt never fails to amaze me everyday! Or conflict, or natural disaster No, but from mankinds selfish greed.If Poets Had Consequence Now ask debris, theyll be swept awayIf poets had consequence in these modern times As are swept to one side wishes of the livingAll corruption would not be But there will come a Judgement on a DayBut they dont, so it is and flourishes It will be unforgivingAnd laugh in the face of those like meWho wave mere words, not wrote the paper written God as we know him will declareOr th breath in which poems and slogans are said That those who desecratedThose times when poets words to reputations mattered Shall punished be for their follyLike the times of decency, they are dead. Destroying what he created!If moral had consequences in these modern timesAll corruption would not beThere would be no need for protest and satireFor campaigners and those like meWho wave mere words, at times when in other times itwould be gunsAnd blood flowing on the streets insteadOf a world weary of fighting after two world warsAnd has buried too many of its dead.Freedoms Western Writers For Granted TakeWe in the West, we take for grantedWords that we write like theseWe criticize all around - and rightly so -But we can do so at easeBeing able to do so it is easyAs a writer you cannot failNo fear of police in the middle of the nightYour home to come being an overcrowded jail.You kill a man, you do timeYes, but it is set in lawWrite an opinion, a crime...Justice writers never saw.Just the cold hard bars and guardsDaily instil fear and flogCritics, journalists and bards:Student who writes a blogThey sleep tonight, rememberAs you too to sleep you goWriters for freedoms emberThat one day a blaze itll show.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  11. 11. Spiros Kitsinelis(Greece / France) For You Don’t KnowI Drink To You You ever slept in beds of rooms, that felt they were my freedoms tombs.To you my girl I drink tonight. You ever smelled the scent of skins,To you that spent with me a night. of girls that filled my nights with sins.To you that have so many names. You ever walked the lands Ive been,To you that played with me some games. or ever had the dreams Ive seen.I think of heaven each time we meet. You know the images my eyes can seeA star you are, so bright, unique. and whether inside I feel free.But one of many my heart has craved Well if you dont, dont speak a word,and with all others my heavens made. that paints an image and a world,To you I also drink tonight, where you would place my heart and soul,that never spent with me a night. for you dont know what makes me whole.To you whose name I never learned. For you dont hear my laugh or sigh,To you whose love I never earned. so save your words and don’t ask why,I think of hell each time we meet. for what you think is just a lieEach time a nightmare, so dark, unique.But youre no devil that lies would tell.My lust for you takes me to hell.Hal O’ Leary (USA)Hal OLeary, an eighty-six-year-old Secular Humanist whobelieves that it is only through the arts that one is afforded Homecomingan occasional glimpse into the otherwiseincomprehensible. My son, hes coming home, weve missed him so... Yes Mam, thats why were here, about your son... So smart. Hes going to go to school you know....A DAY TO REMEMBER, first published by Original Yes Mam...This is the silver star he won.Writer. Yes Mam, thats why were here. About your son... He has this very lovely fiance.MY LIFE, first published in Crannog Magazine. Yes Mam, this is the silver star he won. Shes lovely. We expect him any day.HOMECOMING, first published by Copaiba He has this very lovely fiance.IM NOT SURE HOW, first published by Thoughtsmith Dear Mam...He wont be coming home I fear. Shes lovely, we expect him any day. Your son was killed, and that is why were here.THE INNOCENT, first published by Ink Blot. Dear Mam, he wont be coming home I fear.DEAR FRIEND, has not been published. Of course hell come. Weve waited oh so long. Your son was killed, and that is why were here. I thank you sir, but certainly youre wrong. Of course hell come...Weve waited oh so long. So smart...Hes going to go to school you know. .I thank you sir...But certainly youre wrong. My son?,,,Hes coming home!......Weve...missed him so.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  12. 12. I’M NOT SURE HOW WAR IS HELL Yes, War Is Hell, that’s what they say,We’ll get through this, I’m not sure how. But when it comes, it’s all HOORAY!We’ve suffered things like this before. The flag, of course, is on display,The world’s too much with us now. As patriots all kneel and pray.It’s hard to say what lies in store. “The enemy must die today”. But who is this foe anyway,We’ve suffered things like this before, We send our brave boys out to slay?When we were young, but now I fear ‘Thou shalt not kill’ commandments say,It’s hard say what lies in store. But they’re not human, it’s OK.We might not make it through the year. Beside they come from far away And worship God another day.When we were young, but now I fearOur time is slipping fast away. But who am I to question theyWe might not make it through the year. Who do what I did yesterday?We might not make it through the day. For very much to my dismay, Back then I hid my feet of clay,Our time is slipping fast away. And off to Nam, I joined the fray,I fear, my dear, it may be true, To fight for, Good Old USA.We may not make it through the day. But now, for ignorance I pay,There must be something we can do. And here in Arlington they lay A wreath and rue the dayI fear, my dear, it may be true. We bought the lie of Tonkin BayThe world’s too much with us now. A DAY TO REMEMBERThere must be something we can do. A summer morn, a sun beyond compare,We’ll get through this…I’m not sure how. A stroll to bask and take the summer air, A life reborn, a day extremely rare, THE INNOCENT No soul could ask for anything more fair,I’m in my grave unsure of why I died. So, off I set, not really caring where.For liberty and freedom it was not. It was as though I’d never had a care,I didn’t know the leadership had lied. At ease and yet alive, for unaware,I trusted, never knowing why we fought. I longed to know what waited for me there. On such a day, I felt that I could swearFor liberty and freedom it was not. That nothing dire could possibly impairI didn’t know they profited the most. My golden ray of hope. I do declareI trusted, never knowing why we fought. It lit a fire I felt a need to share.That’s why, for now and ever, I’m a ghost. But, not to be, for down the sidewalk, there,I didn’t know they profited the most, Appeared a sight that gave me quite a scare,The psychopaths, that lied us into war. For I could see, and much to my despair,That’s why, for now and ever, I’m a ghost. Someone, at night, had scrawled a messageOur sacred land’s not sacred anymore. there. I knew, of course, it wouldn’t be a prayer,The psychopaths,that lied us into war. Or children’s play, and so I’d best prepareThey sold my life to satisfy their greed? Myself for coarse and yes, the foulest fareOur sacred land’s not sacred anymore. To turn my day into a sad affair.Could I have died for such an evil deed? But as I neared, I had to stop and stare, For on the walk, I saw and do declareThey sold my life to satisfy their greed? Not what I feared, for there, without a flare…I didn’t know the leadership had lied. In yellow chalk, it simply said “HI THERE”.Could I have died for such an evil deed?I’m in my grave not knowing why I died.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  13. 13. MY LIFE DEAR FRIENDIt’s true, that in my youth, I was besetWith fear that I might lose my life, and yet, At times like these,I must say that the fear was quite off-set the world will seem indifferent and cold.By treating life just as I did roulette. There must be something one could do.I’d go all out and never hedge a bet The sentiment of sympathyThe fear of loss was one I’d never met. Seems not enough.I’d raise the stakes and never break a sweat.My life became an appetite whet, It merely says,A banquet that I never will forget. I’m sorry fate has dealt you such a blow. That doesn’t touch the depth of what I feel,And now, a member of the Senior Set, And so, it doesn’t let you knowI may be past my prime, but I don’t fret How much I care.I’ve used life well, and now I’m pleased to letThe ones that follow get their tootsies wet. At times like these,And true to form, I hope that they can net The cold indifference will dissipateA life like mine, for now that I’m a vet, In knowing there is one who sharesThere’s nothing more I’d really like to get. The loving warmth true empathy can give,And as the end draws near, with no regret, A warmth we share.Old Death becomes a promise, not a threat. It truly says, I feel not simply for, I feel with you. It says to you, you’re not alone. It lets you know your deepest grief Is also mine. But also know That very empathy will mean we share The beauty and the joy as well. Whatever our two fates decree, We share as one.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  14. 14. Matthew Walz ::: (USA)A graduate from the University of Minnesota where he studied sociology and history and iscurrently residing in Minneapolis. His poetry and fiction has appeared or is forthcoming inthe following literary magazines: Grey Sparrow Journal, Blinking Cursor, The SheepsheadReview, A Prairie Journal, Burning Word, and Calliope. He can be reached by email atmatthew.walz.writing@gmail.com.Maiden of the Night Tragedy in the FallFarewell fair maiden, of the night, Leave us to the fall;We kissed forever, or at least till daylight, She left and didn’t come back.But I will never forget the restless play, I tremor and tremor,Though we may be apart, forever, far away. But she didn’t come back. Leave us to the fall.I’ll lean in, softly, and with a smile,And happily, joyously, think all the while; Leave us to the fall;The time we spent can never go to waste, I traveled the world but was a fake.Even if this is, the first, and final taste. I quiver and quiver, But it’s all for her sake.My Enemy Leave us to the fall.I see him—a passerby,Grinding teeth and narrow eye, Leave us to the fall;And hope that he won’t catch She left and didn’t come back.My war torn mind in such a wretch. I shiver and shake, But her eyes have turned black.Divert my covered thoughts, Leave us, once, and for all.Cleverly trenched just like a fox,But no sooner does he see,The decrepit, impoverished likes of me.My scowl turns into a smile;He steps towards me and all the whileI raise my hand and say:“It’s so great to see you on this fine day.” Poetry Video – Stephen James Smith and Enda Reilly “So it gives me great pleasure to share with you a stunning video for a poem by W.B. Yeats (September 1913), it was produced by some of Irelands finest. Those being award winning director Myles OReilly, Stephen Mogerley and photographer Bob Dixon. Here is the link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4PPnwVef4k if you like it please be so kind as to share it with friends and leave a comment. This is to celebrate the debut album titled Arise & Go! by Smith & Reilly, aka Stephen James Smith (me) and Enda Reilly. To get some info on us just go here: www.facebook.com/SmithandReilly and like us.” - Stephen James Smithwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  15. 15. Offaly Writers Set to Join the Million ClubThe most obvious link between the Irish and the Native one million mark. And this very special milestone editionAmerican people, at least as far as most of us might be will include among its contents new pieces by both Cartyaware, is still that supremely noble of charitable gestures and Sullivan. Carty, who has seen his work publishedexpressed by the Choctaw Indians in collecting and and even translated as far afield as China, as well assending money to Ireland during the famine, simply himself being the founder and editor of the online because they had heard of the suffering of the Irish Cartys Poetry Journal , has contributed three shortpeople during that dark hour in our history. poems; The Crooked Mouths , Columbia River Creation , and Old Crow Brings Daylight . Sullivan, whoHowever, a new link is in the process of being forged, is currently working on his third collection of lyrics andand its one which, thankfully, has its roots in the poetry, following on from the publication of his second, somewhat happier creative world of the arts. Writers Pilgrim In The Heartland in 2009, has contributed hisTomas Carty ( from Banagher ) and Anthony Sullivan ( lyric, Ballad of the Red Bird ( Spirit of Love ).from Lusmagh ), both of whom are based in Tullamore,have been regular contributors to the Native American Whisper N Thunder is a non-profit charitableweb-zine Whisper N Thunder since its inception just organisation founded by Billie Kyle Fidlin in Arizona inless than two years ago. And now, with the two year 2009, with the web-zines first edition going live atanniversary just around the corner on January 1st, both midnight on January 1st 2010. The organisationsmen look likely to be celebrating more than just the mission statement is to empower Native Americanswebzines birthday, but also their being part of the through education, awareness and opportunity. ItWhisper N Thunder team that breaks through the one achieves this aim by sharing the stories, history, traditionmillion page-requests marker! and culture of the indigenous people of America, as well as highlighting current and on-going events andWith the page-request figure having climbed to over 940, developments.000 by the start of December, the January edition isexpected to take the web-zine beyond the history making - Anthony Sullivanwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  16. 16. Tatjana Debeljački (Serbia)Tatjana Debeljački, was born on 23.04.1967 in Užice. Writes poetry, short stories, stories and haiku.Member of Association of Writers of Serbia -UKS since 2004 and Haiku Society of Serbia - HDS Serbia, HUSCG –Montenegro and HDPR, Croatia. A member of Writers’ Association Poeta, Belgrade since 2008, HKD Croatia since 2009 anda member of Poetry Society "Antun Ivanošić" Osijek since 2011. Deputy of the main editor (cooperation with magazines &interviews).http://diogen.weebly.com/redakcijaeditorial-board.htmlEditor of the magazine "Poeta", published by Writers’ Association "Poeta"http://www.poetabg.com/Union of Yugoslav Writers in Homeland and Immigration – Belgrade, Literary Club Yesenin – Belgrade.Up to now, she has published four collections of poetry: “A HOUSE MADE OF GLASS “, published by ART – Užice in 1996;collection of poems “YOURS“, published by Narodna knjiga Belgrade in 2003; collection of haiku poetry “VOLCANO”,published by Lotos from Valjevo in 2004. A CD book “A HOUSE MADE OF GLASS” published by ART in 2005, bilingual SR-ENwith music, AH-EH-IH-OH-UH, published by Poeta, Belgrade in 2008.Her poetry and haiku have been translated into several languages.Blogs - http://debeljacki.mojblog.rs/Poetic Interests poetryOther interests Editorwww.poetabg.com/Other http://twitter.com/debeljackiwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  17. 17. ARE THERE I Will Never Forget That NightSomeone is breaking the branches?! I will never forget that night when you cameFrom midnight to the dawn. to me lying on the couch out of the darkness.The forest is trembling inside me.My trees are innocent, On my parents couchThirsty of milk, by the window with the starsFirm hands and you don’t recall?The scent of effervesce.Im drinking my mint tea. There’s so much, volumes I want to ask you,Im bringing tranquility without the aim Do you remember the way we would lie in theAnd the flowers for the vase. sweetest of animation,When I look at it is never the same. Suspended,Im starting to believe in fertility of miracles. Resting where even time itself could notIs there the flame, which could turn the touch usheavens Even for a moment,Into the ashes? How we seemed to pour into each other,Are there any hands to pick up my ripe Filling each other to the brimapples?! With excitement, passion, and love, Do you remember?THERE IS On my parent’s couch, that window with a million stars,Someone is cracking the branch?! Hearing the odd sleepless cow,Hang on till morning. Hearing you,Here it is inside of me, It was like a million candles lit your way downInnocent, thirsty the hall to me,Still waiting for the bread and milk, Waiting for our romantic subterfugeSipping the mint tea. I lay awake preparing a masterpiece ofBring the peace without the aim cushions and covers,And the flowers for the vase. Everyone in the house slept soundlyDoesn’t know that her soul is freezing, so she While your hand gracefully covered yourtakes her time. mouth,Every now and then she sees her but never You, gasping,anything happens. Trying so hardStarting to believe in miracles. Not to scream;Is there the heavenly love and Soft gentle touch of my hands rubbing you,Such a flame I miss you so I can hardly breathe...That it never turns into ashes? That was by far the most passionate night ofAlways ripe like an apple! my free young life,Eh, my quest for the fire... The way our milky bodies intertwined,I’m intoxicated by the poem, not wine! Flowed rhythmically together with the tide ofYour words are the wind the night,Blowing my love Crests rising and falling to the pace of ourAway!!! breathing, A nightingale’s midnight melody fills my ear, and I fill you up all the way past the brim with my unbridled passion.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  18. 18. - ”Captivated” - Lizzie Corsi, (USA)“I am an undergraduate Florida student attending Palm Beach State College” Ive become tangled, Wrapped and wrangled. Constricted and confused; Feelings of obscurity: Compelling and suffused.5 This heart’s pulsing, this mind’s racing, These feelings, though unsecure, continue a tighter enlacing. Reasons for this captivation remain uncertain, the fact burdens me so. How do these connections become more twisted as we grow? Yes, it is you; I have seen you before,10 Why is it now my eyes see you in a different light: someone to adore? Irrevocably, irresistibly, unintentionally magnetized, Words of expression are captured and imprisoned, unable to be vocalized. Object of my affection, how good you truly are. Why must your heart live a distance so far?15 Filled to the brim with life so vibrant: You are kind and gentle, so wonderfully lucent! But you are also blind and I am helpless. You can not see what I so desire to confess! The secret is damaging, my wounds are deep.20 It’s too heavy and exhausting to further keep. Its power knocked me down, so quick you didn’t see. I flew up, then came down, crashing to the ground so clumsily. Open those eyes! See the devastation and sense the urgency! Come to me hastily! This is an emergency!25 No… I have fallen hard, with no one to hear. To remain stranded and alone I do heavily fear. Trapped like a bird, overcome by emotion. Why must you be oblivious to all this commotion? These feelings are squeezing tighter; thick vines too huge!30 I can’t do this alone, come give me refuge! Save me from myself, and end this ruthless tie. Cut my constraints; unravel my entanglement, just free me to fly! Follow me please, as I so wish and desire. Help to simmer the flames, or ignite the fire.35 Offer me bandages, heal my heart. Mend what’s been broken, and never depart. Kiss the bruises, embrace my soul, Make me feel good, make me feel whole. Uncoil the metal of this battered wire,36 And give me the light I desperately require. For this unrequited love has brought about such misery, So break the curse, open those arms, and simply love me. Because when I look at you, I see the future I want. One that without you, my world could become empty and gaunt.40 Please my darling, won’t you smile for me? Smile a smile that can calm the sea? Someday won’t you look at me sweetly, with eyes so crystal and true,www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  19. 19. And promise me wrong you will never do? What I ask of you, my beautiful dear:45 Someday look to me, let it be my voice you will hear. Hear my thoughts, my feelings, my desires for you, And return them all, giving yourself, and treasuring my virtue. And let me warm your soul, keep your heart, and settle your spirit. Giving in to each other, our feelings we will forfeit.50 Unknowing to my weakness, I know you are innocent. Oh how I wish my longing, to you, could be so salient! Someday I hope I’ll catch your eye, So you can end my struggle, and with it the pain will die. For now, I can only hope you’ll come so my love can be aided.55 Silent and incomplete, I by you am captivated. News ItemMark Wallacott publishes online a journal and also books of his writings, one of which we are delighted to feature here108 Breaths features 108 haiku poems and 4 haibun.They are a deeply personal collection that will make youlaugh, reflect and wonder about Mark Wollacott’s fiveyears in Japan. The book has been described asproviding an “intimate view into Japanese culture andhow different it seems to an outsider” by writer RebeccaMayglothling.The book comes with a foreword by poet Kiersty Boonas well as an introduction to haiku, an afterword by theauthor and an appendix of notes giving the readerbackground information on Japan and Mark’s timethere.This is a must for “every type of poetry reader, from thestudent in the classroom to the seasoned poetry reader.”The Hardback edition currently costs £14.99 (plus £2.50 for p&p) if you order fromwww.markwollacott.com via PayPal:www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  20. 20. Better Off in the Bog End of NowhereBERNARD LORIMER to turn and take this freight train homeNorthern Ireland to soil and blood in harmony sung as bards they bade the publics sake“A student who just moved to Galway from from turn spun steel city awakeBelfast, heres some pieces Ive been working and disperse into woodland lungon.” clear breath, clear stream moonlight and songThe Waves bountiful mire for my tall amber fireWhere calm waters that flow in the mooring waters of the salivate grass knows the morning passDusk having faned to steady night from its alter white to pale crimson lightSoft and lulling to the great white bright light amid the shadowy reedsAbove forever round and passing roundSpinning oceans her anchors bound safe and soundWhish will ya now bed blanket boundWhish will ya! no thought of stony streetWhish! pot bellied stove my boggy coveThe waves of all us all brimming full of heatAll the hush now be hush waves of usOf all of us gaels hark this callCome flowing or flowed themselves amongst by an oak tree tallGnashing and crashing whilst they speak once too oft and hold seatThe smash of rocks in the same dáil direWhish full of oak fed firesWhish where the corncrakes caw never reachedWhishThose torrents over trenches at the SommeSpilt across and dripping to deathly doneTumbling downAft rising upShips of soldiers drownedThe oceans secret soundA wishA wishA soft trembling wish for leave or some vinegar in thissalty funkAtom +night before she arrived my living treeupon a rib and just for meate she the fruit sumptuouslywhile river ran unto the sealife was bliss and all was calmpear sweet melon bananaI feel her perfectly all placethrough her sing and on her facebeauty that is lain aroundshapely flowers from giftly groundgentle sunlight raining below withheavenly water makes all things growall glorious things that he confidessublimely reigns and inside hidesa single atom of her beingconceals the image of everythingwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  21. 21. The Nomad that would be HeroRandall Aittaniemi A wasteland is on edge,(USA) waiting for a hero that arrives too late. Call it fate, you can call it hopeless.“Im 22, graduated form UMASS Amherst, a new writer so They will be avenged, this much I promise.I am previously unpublished.” They say he’s a tragic hero.It gives pleasure to us at Cartys Poetry Journal to bring Endlessly yearns to help but it’s an abated work.this new writer to the printed page. He always hurts whoever he’s closest to so he never stays, ever blowing through. Contrite Remarks Learned he can’t let himself care too much. Many times expectations rise, hopes filled.I’ve been thinking, living breathing Tries to build, has to rewind and restart.that I need something new to believe in, Burdened by a big heart.but it keeps on swinging back round to you.I need a new direction away from this obsession, Knows he’s destined to carry the curse.a cognitive correction for this infection. So he drifts as an apparition,A left hand turn at the four way stop, mental roadblock would wandering prison. Lives under no one’s’ command,do. always the stranger in a foreign land.Every different school of thoughtpaired with these contrite remarks, Heading WestI say I’m doing good when I’m feeling blue. Stare into the winters’ night.With all these emotions flowing, The coming morn my only fright.passion gushing, feelings growing. I wish it could stay like this again.Don’t treat me like some sort of lifeless prop. I wish you could stay with me my friend,You told me that I should go away but we’re going separate ways.and yet I feel compelled to stay Soon we’ll be divided by the days.even though this subject I should drop. You head into the night and I’ll head west.To forget I made my mission, I needed this new start I must confess.of me and you the same old vision Between grass and sea is where I’ll be,but my beating heart, it just won’t stop. in case many years from now you look for me. I see the coming of the rising star Erosion signaling that the beginning can’t be far.This world seems a little less green. Unconscious WonderIt seems obscene but the sun’s receding east.At least the stars are still bright, Girl with the hidden braid hair.empathetic of our plight. Knowing that we’re trying too late to Girl that doesn’t wear underwear.reach I love the shells on your feet,a soft coated beach where we can watch them shine on collected as you skimmed upon the beach.through thick mocking fog that veils our intentions. Sun burst eyes glow as they glisten.Our cryptic confessions of earths’ burning. Smile so perfect, can’t help but listen.A charred warning taken too late. I love the way that you move.Maybe it’s fate as winds swirl and blow, PJ bottoms and undershirt, your best grove.telling us what we already know about tar that’s impeding You seem to dance to the music in my head.and concrete that’s completing our spaces limitation, You look so beautiful sleeping in my bedboth physical and imagination. Steel replaces trees even if you take all the covers.and nullifies the breeze that refreshes our minds You talk in your sleep, unconscious wonder.and the ties that bind us all together. Natures’ epoch erodesinto times unknown unless we solveour need to “evolve” and embrace times of the past,times of foliage times of grass.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  22. 22. 2011. - Co-editor of the “Poets for World peace” Vol. 3Sabahudin Hadžialić (Anthology of poems – poets from 25 countries from allBosnia and Herzegovina around the World together with Dr. Ram Sharma from India) 2011. – Editor of the FIRST Anthology of ex-YuBorn in 23.9.1960.g. in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, aphorisms with 73 satirics/aphoristics from ex-YuEurope. republics. 2012: Within the preparation are…Today he is a member of the Bosnia and Herzegovina The novel (trilogy "CROSSROADS OF THE WORLDS").Association of Writers (Sarajevo, BiH), Croatian writersassociation Herzeg Bosnia (Mostar, BiH) and Association Official WWW: http://sabihadzi.weebly.comof writers Serbia (Belgrad, Serbia) , Academy “IvoAndrić” (Belgrade, Serbia) and Journalists Association ofBosnia and Herzegovina and Ambassador of POETASdel MUNDO in Bosnia and Herzegovina.He is Editor in chief of the electronic and print magazine"DIOGEN" pro culture: http://diogen.weebly.com andEditor in chief of E –magazine MaxMinus:http://maxminus.weebly.com from Sarajevo, Bosnia andHerzegovina.He has the status of the independent and self-sustainedartist in the Canton of Sarajevo. He writes poetry andprose with the editing and reviewing books of otherauthors.He is freelance editor in the publishing house Dhira,Küsnacht, Switzerland. He published poems, articles,essays, aphorisms, plays and short stories in almost allmajor newspapers & magazines in Bosnia-Herzegovina,Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia. His poems, shortstories and aphorisms have been published in journals inEngland, Ireland, Spain, Italy and USA.His poetry and prose were translated into English,French, German, Spanish, Italian, Albanian andRomanian.He was the co- owner is the first private newspaper inSR BiH "POTEZ", Bugojno, Bosnia and Herzegovina -1990.So far he has published ten books of poetry and prose.He published four books internationally: Book of poetryin France 1998 (French language), Book of aphorisms inItaly (Italian language), Book of poetry “Beggars of mind”(published in BiH back in 2003.) in Switzerland (Germanlanguage) and “Selected poems” book of poetry (inEnglsih, German, Italian, Albanian, Spanish and Frenchlanguage). His art work has been included in anthologiesof poetry in France, Canada and Bosnia andHerzegovina, and in the Anthology of satire of Bosniaand Herzegovina and of Balkans. He has won severalawards among which are the best: "May pen" for thebest young poet of former Yugoslavia in 1987(Svetozarevo) and Award of Academy "Ivo Andric"(Belgrade) for 2011. He lives in Sarajevo, Bosnia andHerzegovina.Prepared and edited:www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  23. 23. REALITY FILMED Don’t turn into a shadowy street.Dismal imageof my own imprint in time You can easily get lost.that’s realinside the vision that- isn’t, There areis desperately in search for one way and two wayHer ! streets… Like peopleQueen Elizabeth, sometimes spotlessChatherine, Nikolajevna, sometimes grubbyPrincess Diana, andFatima sometimes just a dead end.Disappear in front of the eyesof wild hordes. REPETICIO EST MATER STUDIORUM…I remain alone Warmthtrembling with trepidation of time and spacetrying to figure out is nothing elsewhat is it that they want. but unforgettable lightness… of bizarre rhymesVirtual reality of a surreal film-world that reverberateis nothing more than among twisted corridors of my soul.a treacherous impersonation of a real worldthat deceives me …a Servile Servant !.. Chilliness of déjà vuShe’s gone ! and spaceWill she ever come back ? is nothing elseThe question is swept by the wind. but… bizarre formI’ll wait for the storm to calm of odd expectationsand try to catch the mistral wind to find a cove, that sway embarrassinglyand search for the place where I met her. to the rhythm of her tambourine.Barefoot and naked. …Back in the day.On the stage ! They dance. Without us.VICE VERSA …Cosy darknessResonates chilly. Long time agoChilliness the two of uslight got lost in insanity.gravitate towards My insanity.warmth. Hoping thatAnd everything she will say NO to this madness.Would be just fine…Like withered flowers of faith ….….If only That was it.I knewthat …I am able to express the truth.And not lie Encircled by a wall, in hopeTo meand You ! LIFELIVING IN ‘THE DREAMS’ STREET There are times when I don’t feel like breathing.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  24. 24. She takes in breath They did not ask for permission.for me. The very same people who nowCOPY PASTE want to establish customs zones,I am not guilty ! introduce joint parliament sittingI only obeyed my party line ! and start to exchange war criminals.And The very samethis goes on THEYand on who caused the trouble in the first place.for centuries. … I can only saySTATES, PARDON ME, CITIES one word COUNTRY/HOMELANDIn the little town One day you will realiseacross the seven seas thatlived a small nation. PEOPLE lived there for generationsThis nation could fit into one city. and not… NO, DON’T SHOOT !!and nowhere else.At least that’s what little nation’s Emperor thought. COUNTRY SONGPardon, Duke.And one day some people left the city. Speculationthey were the first to leave. revivesFollowed by the second. reminiscenceAnd the third. of the moments of destinyEmperor, pardon, Duke in my dreams.was left alone. I really don’t know… why this title ?The name of the city ? When I wantLook around, to say something completely oppositeperhaps this is a story aiming to speak ofof your.. city. unspoken, unheard of,ANANAS AND BANANA and unthinkableThrough this poem At least today,I’d like to tell you now and here.that I know Elite culturehow much I love you. is nothing else but… the wish of marginalised peopleThrough this poem to establish the rule of impossibleI’d like to tell you in this corner of the world.that I want Let them live with it.you to be mine. Off I go the soul-brothel… I’m off to the pub !Through this poemI’d like to tell you IF ONLY I WERE YOUNGERthat I can carry you. I read… PoetryI’d like all of this written by the young poets…however I can’t manageHow can I have you, love you and carry you. IHow, when I can’t afford don’t knowto keep up with keeping you. if I should call itBLUES FOR MY EX-COUNTRY/HOMELAND Regressive or Progressive ? I better shut upI had a country. and continue readingThey took it away. The poetry written by young writers.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  25. 25. Deepak Chaswal "Meeting with Christ"(India) Sometimes ago I visitedHe is a poet from the soil of India. Also Prof. of English Jerusalem to meet theand critic. His poetry exhibits his perception of the Soul of Christuniverse from the perspective of an insider. Published in Which was wandering hereinternational poetry journals: Pacific Review, Sam Smith And there with some otherThe Journal, Pamona Valley Review, The Tower, Forge, Noble soulsEnchanting Verses,Earthborne Poetry Magazine, Kritya-A Journal of Poetry, Indian Ruminations, Bicycle Review, As soon as I observedElectronic Monsoon Magazine to name a few. Their serenity, tranquillity And contentment“Man” I could not resist Myself from puttingA bundle of lies Questions to themBorn in cries Because withoutWith blood Interrogation we cannotAnd sighs Trust even GodTears the wombAnd ends in tomb I while adjusting my tieAnd still claims Asked a questionHe is innocent. With an artificial sigh O! Lord,"Freedom" People say You areThe Lady with the Above swordgolden rings Do you think the society in which you livedclipped the Was without discord?parrotssilken wings Christ just smiledWas surprised As if in the hearts of his heartwhen it again He cried without voicepicked the Because he had no choicesame cardof "Freedom" I asked the second questionshe most despised. Which was my firm presumption Do you think crucification is the“Death by Water” Only way through which One can be driven to death?They dilutedHim in the water Christ tried to thinkLike aspirin He replied with a mild winkTo get relief He was literally dumbFrom headache As if his heart was numb"Angels/Demons" Without giving any reply Christ was looking shyThey may come I still asked the third questionfrom sea, air or ground Which was in the form of inspectionlike the wind, water or soundand crack your ribs What are your views about morality?as if you are pigs. Do you think that it exists in the world in totality? Christ turned his backTheir counting starts from As if he was defending himself from media attacknine and ends at eleven Christ started walking towards EastThey live on earth I think he realizedbut come from heaven That I was not a priestThey will SEAL your fate Rather a twenty first century Beast.Cant say about the datewww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  26. 26. “Superman” Three Years DownDarwin showed Believe in somethingThe progress of man Without baseI will tell you about Safe distanceThe superman Far-wide-across Mental messagesI saw the supermanHe was busy in preparing Hugging through barsA plan Kissing through songsMay be Breathing in dreamsTo conquer the world Feeling in words Knowing in sensesI saw supermanWho was totally Having through promiseDifferent from monkey and man I miss youI saw supermanWho was bending backwards Alive through voiceHis eyes could hardly Denied through absenceSee upwards Laughing in fantasies Crying in silenceI saw superman Building in lettersWho was neitherSitting nor standing True through painHe seems to beThe incarnation of I love youEternal damnation - “Erica” a.k.a. “Spirit Love”, 21 from Los Angeles,I saw the superman USA. Prefers to keep discreet and mysterious...Who could hardly speakOr chant a sermonI saw the superman RainWho was neither monkey nor man Kathy Coman (USA)With clawed handsAnd semi circled reverted back I love the wayHe was waiting for You fall up against my skinEither some crow I feel its God’s way of naturally cleansing meOr some swan. From sin’s scars That tries to reopen themselves to me daily So He sends youI saw the superman To cleanse and refresh my soulCrawling slowlyOn the sand Kathy Coman graduated from the University of Toledo in 2008 with aIn between the desert land Bachelors of English. She has been published in A&U Magazine asMay be well as online at jerryjazzmusician.To Bethlehemor some alien landwww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  27. 27. BOLD STATEMENTSWhy are so many people needing to MEASURED. MEASURED Record the evidencebe un-acceptable. Why do they and scream it from within. Neverreach out to me in such a forceful allow FORCES to be with you; theremanner. Do I appear to relinquish is a heaven and the only way tomy RIGHTS as an achiever in any know that, is to FORGIVE Forgive FORGIVE.given effort. Read me my when you can’t or simply whenMEMORIES and the answer will you don’t want to.reach out and touch someone; Escape and FREE your…..anyone. The remedies that reside Knowing their mind allows thewithin my mind are consequences PLEASURE to revolve around whatthat may render one USELESS in I resolute; and the REWARD will betheir efforts. Recycle mandatory all mine, no yours too. Supportaffections and reside amongst the that which is MANDATORY. ICOMPETITION that may master don’t think so far that which weanger’s rejects. What we fail to accept is only as far as the eye cansometimes realize is that we make see and to only see can bring aboutMISTAKES but we are not to be UNBELIEF. UNBELIEF Boldness is a fortifiedheld accountable for the such. ELEMENT that will extinguish anRECAPTURE every demeanor that enormous, burning DESIRE there DESIRE;may fight to survive and within is another understanding whichthat circle, may become beknownst must be LEANED on.to you. When a TIGER cries andthat they do, we can’t hear it as - Kim Wilsonwell as when a TREE falls and yes,it does make a SOUND Feel me SOUND.when you can’t and even whenyou won’t because everything IATTEMPT to become onlyremembers that which may bringabout my DEEPEST fear.ROARING is a call of the wild.Screaming comes from inside thecloset and the mercy never rest.FAILURE can never be accountedfor if the attempts arewww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  28. 28. “Days” GIFTS Days don’t look as glorious when your heart’s I use my gift to write out loud. I know I’m not the only one; been shattered. escaping, feeling, It seems time takes, trying, as the itty bitty ‘peaces’ asking, struggle to get together; again. forgiving, I looked out into the sunshine praying, and saw nothing; excepting, but a blurry eyesore sight. accepting, The grass seemed to turning away, get greener in a divine instant. giving it up, I thought it was a heavenly light seeking, blue shaded with whites needing, and grays and birds; the sky. blessing, My heart leaking; waiting for retaliating, nothing yet sadness arrived attempting, to keep my tears company. misusing, Reaching, wanting, wasting crying, served a relentless purpose. keeping, What invaded was evident sharing, that what is to comes; hurried. hoping, Nights seems to be brighter wondering, than days; filled with fear as praising, cultural boldness spit and scream reliving; and yell that it’s familiar; will refusing gather what in the hell’o is going on! itty bitty together again. There is only one WAY, TRUTH AND LIGHT! kimkologne.synthasite.com My name is Kimberly Wilson and I create poetry from who I am on the inside. I have a load of venting, inspiring, captivating, informational emotions per myself to sharewww.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  29. 29. Gonzalo Salesky (Argentina) Gonzalo is a 32 year old Argeintine writer whose worksYou Will Be can be read on his blog at gonzalosalesky.blogspot.comYou will be breath of sea, you will be nostalgiaWhen your mouth leaves and does not return. We are honoured to carry aYou will be my breeze when the wind drops, translation of his poems in the English language.You will be fire beyond words.You will be the sky, void of my pages,And the prayer to announce my departureWhen the pain, this world and our lifeTake everything and leave me nothing.HarlequinsAs harlequins in the windYour laugh flies with me.It envelops me and rises in mid autumn,Makes me grow and mature in silence.Maybe it grows dark for someBut, my love, only your love is enough for meTo reach eternal paradise in life,To be able to daydream of your eyes,And so to forget, amongst all, those tears.OmenI know that in life, no matter how,Fire is always extinguished by day.Night is short when winter looms,Time cures and heals wounds.To stop talking is not good medicine;I know the harbinger of light and agonyIs being fulfilled, no matter when it arrives,Perhaps it is near and finds you asleep.You will not see it coming even if it is announced,Do you know how sweet and frivolous is this expectation?Because very soon you will emerge, it will be so easyLike coming full circle.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com
  30. 30. Rishan Singh (South Africa)Born in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. He has achieved many accolades in his life. His poems haveappeared in publications in South Africa and abroad. He is a South African poet with a great feel forthe creative arts. This is his second publication in Cartys Poetry Journal. MY FRIEND My friend, at least look back at our friendship, How much can I say, perhaps there is that element but that my friendship for you of kindness that might have crushed me. is my precious treasure. Im only human but my life is now in sorrow, How I hoped that youd come, crushed into glass pieces is but ever since you left how I live. I cant move on. My life is now painful. My Friend, My life is now sorrowful, How much more can I say, full of tears... hate is all I too can express, but the word no cant come I feel I have no worth, to my lips. but I guess this is what life brings. In life I have been blessed My life is now painful. with kindness, My life is now in darkness, but what do I get? I cant move on... My dear friend, how my heart hurts, but Someday when Im gone; I shall never forget you.www.cartyspoetryjournal.com

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