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ROBIN OUZMAN HISLOP The Profile Robin Ouzman Hislop. Yahoo Groups. Poet, translator, travelling & family man. A great deal of my life has been spent out of England, where I was born and spent my childhood in Lyme Regis. I lived in Scotland, which was my mother's side, and take the name Hislop, as writer's name from her family. I read Philosophy & Religion. Manchester University. Resident at Pakistan, Lahore. Studies at Punjab University, New Campus, Lahore: Sufism (Tasawuf), Jalal-U-Din Rumi and Ibn Arabi, Islamic philosophy. Resident in Spain until December 1998 (Madrid and Salamanca): Organization of bilingual poetry readings at Casa do Brasil, Madrid Complutense University, Escuela Oficial de Idiomas, (Madrid Official School of Languages), Cafés Manuela and Magerit, O’Connors Pub, Madrid, El Ateneo and El Corrillo in Salamanca. Translation of poetry include : 1927 Generation Poets. Selection of F.G. Lorca, Luis Cernuda, Rafael Alberti, M. Altolaguirre, Miguel Hernandez and Vicente Aleixandre’s poems, published at Contemporary Literature in Translation, Granite, Mundus, Artium, Prism International. At present situated in UK, Diploma in Latin American Studies, Sheffield University, bursary awards enabled me to work translating Diosas Blancas a Contemporary Anthology of Female Poets, Edited Ramon Buenaventura 1983, at Casa del Traductor, Tarazona, Spain & work in collaboration from English to Spanish, James Stephens Fairy Stories, at The Tyrone Guthrie Centre, Anamaghkerrig, Co Mahon, Eire. Last year I appeared in Dawn Millennium, Kedoc Studios Las Vegas, Nevada, see http://www.artvilla.com/kedco-ap/freepage.htm & am due to appear in their next forthcoming publication Crystal Dawn. I am interested in Revivalist movements in modern poetry, some of my recent work, links & other publications can be found at http://www.authorsden.com/robinouzmanhislop

Full Bleed from the Milk on the Edge of the Moon © Robin Ouzman Hislop 2003 Full bleed from the Milk Part 1. 1.) i. as it falls, flows on flesh break, ii. It is blood under the bridge & the river flows on iii. Blood & milk mixed with wine the stars disinterested in our chaos yet vortex to our abysm. Part 2. Images of the Dead. 1.) i. I scarce remember what I was before anymore, anymore. Life predicts, not I, what it lets fall in the thinning light, distance of the sight, it is for one & all, self itself be unbearable from what was before but then is no more than before insupportable in the thinning light, distance of the sight. ii. In the mirror the oldest, loneliest eye in the world. Is it yours? A billion billion lives, a million born or dead upon a day & night, in this transparent gestation, this lifeless reflection in an endless age, is it your eye, opaque as a doll´s & beyond recognition. iii. The one who stands before you is alike to you as the one who stands before you is alike like the one who stands before you. Neither of you saw what the other saw as the mirror sealed your kiss. But that kiss emptied the mirror so that it saw not you alike, alike: the mirror is an image of the dead. iv. Mounds of Ithcus Out of the sky’s Deep sea blue flint shingle Shines on the steep Steppes Mounds of ancient Ithcus. Clouds shroud Their burial grounds In solitary wraifs. Crystal quartz , Porpoise & sea cow waltz Coral isles attend their rites Nearer than the sun’s rags Through the dust of ages. v. The Moon’s Eye. I cannot emulate the moon’s eye. Does a butterfly fly gadfly free giddily In a garden of ephemeral liberty Or timidly in doubt & fear draw nigh In crooked uncertainty? Perhaps her Eye is as the Jean Auguste’s Angelica, Not denying flagellation from her sire, Her face askance more in mercy at her Own birth that does not weep nor devour Her children nor pity them their desire. I cannot emulate the moon’s eye, I am as ephemeral as a butterfly, Timid in a garden of doubt & fear. O moon’s eye, in whose eye is the tear? 2.) i. In peace & fear your lips so dear, a sweet yet bitter kiss, a lifetime in this, on a moon station as you depart: a scarecrow now waits a morning lark, amid shaped beasts until dew branches. ii. Cabo de Gata Imp´s smile, impish malign, A Face black as soot beside A tarred keel in a sandstorm. Ash beach fills hair, eyes, Clogs shoes, white waves, A black dot in the void. iii. The Marriage of Heaven & Hell I thought that life was but a con that anti poetic education had made biased version of history & no secret was shared twixt you & me. No secret that only a kiss could tell, Where Sofía & Krysos harrowed hell, Only Marriage of Harmony & Cadmus, The forging fingers of Pythagoras. The letters of Cadmus written both bold, young: it´s the same story but we are old, we can change but the story´s as so you see, an improvement on myth & history. Sofía & Krysos are still hidden, So what! this is no Garden of Eden! iv. Suibine in a Waiting Room. Suspicious of tense he suspends mood in abeyence, his inhuman mirror self alien, & faces the onslaught as he treks the milky way, & then the real thing, the shattered realities still coming & going, a corpse in a waiting room watching its train depart, the others despatching, no longer responding to signals. Part 3. High Kite. 1.) i. Day descends darkly Entertaining hidden winds Yet to be unleashed. ii. Leave O morning fly For by twilight you will die ‘Neath another sky iii. August’s golden sun Died in a blaze of glory September’s bloom falls. iv. Full September moon Waxes silver on silver Birch Fly Agaric. v. High Kite The glorious day Burgeoning in golden haze Again the same. A one line poem Whose middle in memory Begins in ending. The blue lemur hawk High in the valley hovers Over the buzzards. vi. Nettle seeds to wispy gray Wilting in white hair. Foliage nets gleaming elderberry, White hawthorn blossom of May Has blown away its lair Leaving there the poisonous red berry & blackberry ripens soon to be stricken: Already, the fallen dry leaves of autumn. Part 4. The Edge of the Moon. 1.) i. On an ivy moon the crow caws kra. ii. A beautiful sight sees me first. iii. Love is flame, chaos, ash, hate dries its tears. iv. The mirror is empty but not open, there is no exit: only shadows have homes. v. The edge of the moon is the sum of it, not the summit. 2.) i. To my son. Lets hope it doesn’t happen, hope it remains unborn. A whole chaos within the head, a raging bull before the red cape flourished in the circus sand: a steel point of the Matador, death to applause of clapping hand, another rage from silence roars. Rage wins no final battle, it enters no gentle night but dies in the fading light in the serpent’s throat’s rattle, a shadow of the sun’s lust bled to death in the lime dust. ii. Tanka Monk in beggar’s rags Meticulously copies In ink word for word In order not to forget As our feet tread over him iii. Late Noon in Anton Martin. Grey clouds daze drizzle . Helicopters head off in trajectory to Iraq . We hang out of our terraces & plants, Sunday morning non church goers, To wonder but not to cheer, doves take off in the other direction in grey clouds daze drizzle. Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2003 All rights reserved.

RICHARD VALLANCE About Richard Vallance Born in Guelph, Ontario, Canada, March 11th., 1945, Richard is a member of AuthorsDen, under his family name, Richard Vallance Janke.  A graduate of Wilfred Laurier University (1968) and The University of Western Ontario (MLS), he is fluently bilingual in English and French, and reads Spanish and Italian, ancient Greek and Latin well.  He wrote his first poems at the ages of 17 and 18, in 1962-63.  For years, Richard wrote mainly in the field of Library and Information Science. At Chicago, in October, 1983, he won the $1,000 Data Courier Award for Excellence in Online Published Papers for an article in Online, Vol. 7, no. 5. Poetry: While he wrote some 200 poems before the age of 47, since then Richard has composed over 1,500 poems. His first published poem was, “Lasts the First Light”, in Arts and Literature Review (Canada, 1972). In 1998, he published his first full book of poetry, A Quilt of Sonnets: Forty Four Familiar Poems, Ottawa: Providence Road Press, © 1998. 56 pp. ISBN 1-896243-07-x. In February, 2001, Richard founded his first poetry discussion group, Describe Adonis, for sonneteers. We have since grown to 10 poetry, art and digital photography groups, which you may find at our discussion forum: la nouvelle Pléiade = The New Pleiades ©. Richard's poetry page is Poesie’s laissez-faire Faire Foire, a clearing-house for poets from nations like Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, Ireland, France and the Netherlands. PLFFF features sonnets and contemporary poems, updated quarterly, a links page to sites of other poets, and grants the monthly Prix laissez-faire Faire Foire Award . PLFFF is a member of Phenomenal Men of The Web: Arts & Humanities . Richard is the Editor of 2 Canadian poetry E-Zines.  These are advertised monthly at the end of The Vallance Review in Poetry Life and Times.  In the Winter of 2003, a third E-Zine, Kawasaki Zen Haiku, will be a showcase for haikuists. Since September, 2001, Richard has been the poetry reviewer for Poetry Life and Times, which features the monthly Vallance Review. He is also regular contributor to the same E-Zine.  Richard is also often featured with the U.S. Amerindian E-Zine, Autumn Leaves. CD-ROM Books: 1. The New Millennium Dawn Anthology (Kedco Press): 10 of Richard's poems were included in Millennium Dawn: an Anthology of Award Winning Fantasy Stories, Poetry, Novels etc.,  Kedco Studios Press, Las Vegas, NV, © 2002  ISBN 1-878431-38-2. 2. Richard’s latest CD-ROM book, Canadian Spirit Voices, © 2003, ISBN: 1-878431-44-7, is in its final pre-publication stages, and will be published by Kedco in the Spring of 2003.  You may view a summary of the book here:  Pre-publication Notice. To contact the author, please e-mail: Richard Vallance (Yahoo) (for inquiries on our poetry discussion groups) – OR –  Richard Vallance (Activator Mail) for poetry-related inquiries or submissions to our Canadian E-Zines).

Featured Creature for Tonight? * © Richard Vallance, October 24, 2003 Should I be featured creature for tonight? I curse you, Sun, your soporific balm! Why should I cringe from greatly boring light? Nude to moon I'll swim and never's a qualm. Perchance you think me PI-eyed I sleep in hours Daylight's reserved for you, collared Time, although, you see, it's bound travail's a sin, since manufactured lyrics quail for rhyme. Can't nip me in my bud, bud! I'm your rose! Look, spines will bleed your nosy hands as fast as wine's Sapphic nose frightdelights the nose. Athena's Owl waits, and those keen eyes peer in you, boring your mouth through, to cast your mind in plaster! You were neverseer! * Of course, it quite goes without saying = ça va sans dire! Like so many poets, I am, you guessed, a night owl! ILLUSTRATION: negative image of the ancient Attic Athenian silver coin depicting Athena's Owl, symbol of Eternal Wisdom Standard Time © Richard Vallance, October 26, 2003 Canzóne innamorata alla Petrarca for all the World for Louis-Dominique Come Standard Time, lend lease to sun recede, allow its sails, Andante's oriflammes gemmate your New Moon's clouds, and bead by bead pearl our boughs through, leaving us leave them alms! Stay! Listen to rain, fluted from my hands and through yours sieved, though it leaves us brothers. Are you and I tuned to hoarfrost's first chime we gingerly finger while it hovers? Leave us in your 3/4s minor Time, semi-quaver bars, cleft in teal blue eyes. There our composer's recitative seems to lead on to Tchaikovsky's "Winter Dreams". Our audience perhaps misunderstands. Could wind Adagios play to Love's surprise? Rippling Effects © Richard Vallance, 2004 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rippling effects: dawn sneaks 7 veils from our Borealis lake. Rippling effect: high noon's glare's disturbed Rainy Lake's deep calm. Rippling effects: my boy skips stones on waters soon calmed. Rippling effects: Rushes, bend! Your lake's whitecaps raise flags in sunlit laps. Rippling effect: sunset leaves Rainy Lake's shores cirrus echoes. Rippling effects: Rain gathers, gathers ripples, ripples more. Rippling effects: loon runs lone Rainy Lake's waves his wings must break. Rippling effects: Has my son's heartbeat's skipped at birch boughs dusk's snapped? Rippling effect: fey night clouds skud across somewhere's moon. Rippling effects: moonlit rays seem traced onto our tent's halved blue walls. Rippling effects: night flaps the tent and lashes flit, mine or yours? Rippling effect: some lone or owl or wolf howls and I'm chilled. Editor's Note: More Rippling Effects haiku from Richard in the February 2004 issue.... My Carousel Home is: From here you may reach all our Yahoo Poetry Groups, our E-Zines and lots of poetry by many fine poets.