That Place in My Heart | A Poem by Anuradha Fonseka

Yes you were correct
You have no place in my life
Only a tiny but special place in my heart
That place my boy, is dark
Yet lightened by candles and stars above
It smells of black roses: intoxicating and relaxing
I tread there light-hearted and blissfully
Laughs and mischievous jokes
Witty remarks and playful grudges
That place has no name
Just you and me, no meaning



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Two Flying Saucers | A Poem by Donal Mahoney

A flying saucer whirrs
through the kitchen air
almost hits him in the head

flies out the open window
followed by another saucer
sailed at him by her

angry that he’s earthbound
can’t take her to the moon
one more time tonight.

He’s getting old, he tells her.
She should have come aboard
when he was 23 and flew

all night from star to star.
He ducks again and gasps,
“Once must now suffice.”

Visit Donal at  http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.

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Uptown | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

Into me sensed lifetimes
parade like window frames;
stone and brick frontages,
not known or grasped,
simply that they are there,
and like glassy domino rows
exit back behind, as from
within and through me.

Like some passage
of cross street wind
along hillside avenues,
are sinews; other existences
jumbling their bygone
emotions, sleep vanquished
but come real as dawn
to my every wakening.

They move in portrait
facades, passing above;
habitations, expectancy,
hope, dreadful glimpses:
hard fate that grips this
heart’s sustaining peace,
and stunned by mute mirrors
in passing taxi windows.

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Life Abstracted | A Poem by G.S. Katz

I’m an opposite of the general population
I’m either upstream or downstream
Rarely mainstream
Translation: I don’t fit
I’m chronically shy but
a good actor
Quiet by nature
Women love me because I listen

Is that why you are drawn to me?
Or is it the sex?

I’d like to know

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The Emperor Knew It Was Closeing | A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

Go… As Constantine InTo The Colosseum,
UpOn The Weakening Necks Of Serpentine Gods…


Spiralling Staircases Winding Down InTo The Eras Of Haste,
You Will Find Slick Boroughs And Stick Men,
With Sticky Meat Piled High On Market-Placed Altars,
Sweet Poison Wafting From Shuttered Cracks,
Catatonic Stoneings And Old Fashioned Barterings,
There Is No Sky… Only Wires And Rain OverHead,
One Thing Or The Other To Stab InTo Your Jacket And Slice Off A
Chunk,
The Tribes There Have Their Prophets Etched InTo Their Clocks And
Closets…

Shrines With Back-Doors Leading To Deeper Markets,
Their Salesmen Have No Lips… And So They Sell No Romance,
A Crumbleing Recess With The Occasional Murmur Of Fadeing Light,
And If You Linger A Minute Too Long… The Light Becomes A Sliver…

Embeds ItSelf InTo You…



Then The Door Shuts… Locks Tight,
All BeComes As It Was BeFore… Hidden From What Was Above,
And The Only Thing Giveing Off A Glow…

Is You.

Visit Richard at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

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Do Not Accuse Him | A Poem by Anuradha Fonseka

Do not accuse him my love
You were wrong not him
You created the gap, he just filled it
Or I let him fill it

Do not accuse him my love
Your harshness was too much to bear
He just came and smoothened the wounds
Or I let him do that

Do not accuse him my love
You did not care
He just came and cared a lot
Or I let him care

Do not accuse him my love
You left me alone
He just came and accompanied me
Or I let him do that

Do not accuse him my love
If you lost my love, it’s because of you
Not because of him who loved me
Or I let him love me

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Paid Mistress | A Poem by G.S. Katz

Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday
My place
Look good, smell better
Don’t be late
Do everything I want
Money on the dresser
In the Godiva bag
Take the trash on your way out
Smile back at me
Leave

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