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Index of poets:
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The Rape of Black Demeter.* Persephone Daughter of the Moon On waters. Aphrodite's chariot Moon mare, Terra Firma Demeter, Faster than we dream Sea Spring Autumn, Monster Poseidon Tripod born son, Rape her name, her shrines. All the Lilies in the Valley, Death opens, a mother forlorn. Mare tamer-Ygysdyril Aroynt thee witch, aroynt thee He met the Night Mare & her Nine Fold* Ond gard her swar by midder-micht. *King Lear act iii scene iv.• Dedicated to Sara Russell. Her embroidery of St Swithin for St Swithins day led me to consider his Runic(Rain Maker)& Anglo Saxon origins before Christianity converted him & the rest is silence... Aborigine 3.) i. Jack the Ripper: honour no one with a glance, overflowing with the living & the dead, the bridge, the river, tier upon tier raised on the stench of disease in the catacombs, vaults & sewers, the living follow the dead through a tunnel into exodus & only one man saw in the hour the sunken city resuscitated into monstrous metropolis, its veins & arches an underworld network, Teiresias reborn as a vampire in a population, an epidemic of troglodytes, city over the mountains, London's falling Towers of Babylon, broken images & babble. ii. Melt. Watch someone die every day at home: see them fall upon each other, at the kill, divining new threats of peace as swift as poison. See someone at home everyday die for free. hold the gun on the run, beginnings, endings bled from their shadows. the ground parts to sate that ballast, the blast, the honk, the slide grating crunch fall, outside in the breach & the touch against before & after. iii. Man Friday* i man declaim man his nation state & religion his tyranny & his damnation i declaim him in it as insane this is my declaration to man i cite him & i declaim him or that i am him here on this plain where the daffodil spray reaches the highway in brilliant yellow array on Good Friday Spring's first full moon down by the yellow rushes in the reeds i write him down his ancestors the dead who talked in his head or walked abroad unknown in their end it mattered not & what was recorded is slight & mortal only a trace now determines these borders under the phantom battlefield skies that patrole these nights & days. yet how fragile is the night, delicate white moon shone through the garden tree branches as I part the blind, an instant's veiled purity in the window & then no more than the gulls. *Robinson Crusoe. Daniel Defoe. iv. Alley Cat. A 100m in Tom Angora black & white in the bins stares like an angry owl. Awoke lost to fate, fear, anger, hate on the police border state. In the street pity the poor but kill them all, you cant have them forever, anymore. 1 1/4 klm in, grace invaded, helicopter overhead, no picnics, chaos of bird song Kills a mocking bird, in the glade where lost worlds fade. v. Funerals. They get big funerals, As from the sky Could seem a snail's trail. Many have been arranged, Sometimes who was going To be there, before They were even thought of. Funerals that ran up The Boulevard from its Supine arteries, where The vampire enters Forever the entourage In the land of shades. Who follow, who need Blood on their lips to speak The sacred text with Who's in & who's out At the funeral parade. Where anybody who's Anybody was there, That's what the big ones get. Invitations to be in at the end. A hand out, a share of funeral Ground cost dead, price lived. vi. Way Out. they've broadcast me till i do not exist in the very place where i am yet this, as the sweetest hour i did not resist. you know the story told, i am the son. time on the edge of the world was threshold & then there was no more but flag freedom. that first day the banner waved the soul sold was the sweetest hour i would exist to where i am this, who could not resist. we, who were sent out as strangers, homeward, to appear on the edge of the world, the hunted on the plains, to roam abhored, shot down, man on the run by a gun, morning yet begun by evening undone. vii. Cernovada. She's there in stone seven thousand years breasts, lips, legs a Dali press of May West. Harga Qiru, Malta five thousand years headless, obese, squats, or what waits for her screw on head - We've learnt nothing more now than they dreamt better before, exit Picasso Las Cuervas de Ata Puerca. It seems so long forgotten, its lost forever, the stroke. The flash back, flash to the miracle crash, secret wall, hyssop shrubs, daffodil waves, heaven opens as an invitation to prison, we share the day, the air & everything being metaphysical, the world needs more money. viii. Arboral. We humans keep on coming on with our questions, our descriptions, our perceptions, our meanings & going with them - but in this transit moment, transfixion, the woodland thins stark, in bud, the spring coming on black brown green before the finish flush. How now the bird song throngs & cuts apart this apparent hush, the same as ever before the crush. ix. Acrobat. His eye rolled heavenward & the gods looked down & laughed & the moon looked down & mocked & the sun looked down in a hat & the sky rocked a lullaby in the tree tops & his eye rolled downward where myriad stars drowned where the lights went out & the roar & silence grew hard as he walked tip toe the tight rope with no hands hung between trapeze splits. x. Spring April A sunset in gold upholds a full moon stencilled in a stained blue sky. A mountain stream found, lost, can i return there? will it be the same? Ramble through briars which madly scratched in twilight chorus bygone days. Remember the green forgotten & somehow wrong the way it now songs , from once peripheries immortal. April moon blinking full except for two slight side slit split ellipses. Earth's umbra blaze now seen from afar as a star in lunar eclipse. Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2005Robin's poems this month are excerpts from the Blue Corn Anthology 2005, to be published by Kedco Studios later this year. ROBIN OUZMAN HISLOP: Born UK. Childhood in Lyme Regis & Poole Dorset. Lived Scotland & Scandinavia, The East & Spain. A great deal of my life has been spent out of England, my mother's side is Scottish & I take the name Hislop, as writer's name from her family name. Bachelor in Arts (Hns). Philosophy & Religion. Manchester University. Resident at Pakistan, Lahore. Studies at Punjab University, New Campus, Lahore: Sufism (Tasawuf), Jalal-U-Din Rumi & Ibn Arabi. Sheffield University: Spanish & Latin American Cultural Studies. Resident in Spain from 1985 until December 1998 (Madrid and Salamanca): Resident at Salamanca, 1996-98: English Language teacher and translator for “El Ateneo”. Organisation 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. Translations of poetry include 1927 Spanish Generation Poets: selections of F.G. Lorca, Luis Cernuda, Rafael Alberti, M. Altolaguirre, Miguel Hernandez and Vicente Aleixandre’s poems; and the Chilean poet Andres Fisher, Las Diosas Blancas an Anthology edited Ramon Buenaventura, an anthology of poetry Alchemy by Tessa Duncan from Spanish and James Stephens Fairy Stories into Spanish have been more recent activities. I hope to feature these, as well as introducing new translations with originals on my web page soon to be opened IBIS. I am interested in revivalist movements in modern poetry. Appeared in Dawn Millenium Anthology published by Kedco Studios & this year appeared in their Crystal Dawn Anthology. Frequently featured in the E zines Poetry Life and Times, Autumn Leaves, Sonnetto Poesia, Canadian Zen Haiku, appeared on Artvilla, Poetry Repairs, the Celtic Pagan Poetry Pages Journal, as featured poet in the Beltane edition & Ancient Dawn E zines amongst others. This year will publish own anthology Blue Corn which will incorporate performance, on web cam and voice recital with Kedco Studios. Mystic East publishers are now in process of editing my anthology After the Cave, the Comet for publication later this year, as well as their Mystic East Anthology of poets, where further work is due to appear, and am pleased to announce our forthcoming New Pleiades Anthology 2005, to be published by Kedco Studios, which will feature our own New Pleiades poetry list of international poets, where I am a co editor & list moderator. My present book After the Cave the Comet was published this month by Mystic East. Robin will become a Resident Poet of Poetry Life & Times from January 2005. More of Robin's work can be found here:
Amparo Arróspide's Gift of Tongues: EXCLUSIVE NEWS UPDATE: Some of Robin's poems are due to appear in an anthology "Blue Corn", to be published by Kedco in 2005. 
Also Robin's exciting epic "After the Cave, the Comet" is now available for purchase either as a CD or Ebook at Mystic East.
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MACARONIC-ACROSTIC SONNET *
C-A-N-A-D-I-A-N-S-O-N-N-E-T
Canadian loons confess their half-crazed calls
Au crépuscule, où l’arc-en-ciel couronne le lac,
November’s last, fails as frail sunset falls
Autour des cimes des pins. Voilà! L’orage s’attaque,
Driving needles into frenzies by light’s
Intensité si vite fanée qu’elle s’est enfuie
Along unsounded waters! There alights
Nébuleuse, la neige issue de la Voie lactée
Softly as New Moon parts gray clouds and drapes
Oranges où reluit le seul coureur des bois qui
Now keeps his eyes peeled on a tough portage
Nordique, dont les arêtes lisses surgissent aux passages
Explorers assay, where they go astray
Tombés aux rapides où ils ont souvent sombré.
© by/ par Richard Vallance, 2002
PROSE translation of the French verses, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14:
2 To dusk, where a rainbow crowns the lake,
4 Around the peaks of pines. But look! The storm's attacking
6 Intensity fading away so swiftly she's gone and fled
8 Nebulous, the snow, falling out of the Milky Way
10 All orange, where a lone "coureur de bois" shimmers who
12 of the North, whose slppery slopes rise to block any passage
14 Fallen into rapids where they've all too often drowned.
In this macaronic-acrostic sonnet, the initial letter of each verse
spells a name or the title of the sonnet, as in this particular case,
CANADIAN SONNET
(appropriately bilingual)
Previously published in: Vallance, Richard.
Canadian Spirit Voices © 2003. ISBN 1-878431-44-7
__________________________________
EXPANDING SONNET
“May Day! May Day!”
Titanic, C.Q.D.
Collision: iceberg: damaged starboard side:
… S.O.S. *
From: The Titanic (1935)
by E.J. Pratt (Canadian poet)
at the behest of my friend, Christopher Scott Snow
1 She
2 had slipped
3 down her lists,
4 slick in her ways,
5 Imperial Queen
6 a year well in advance
7 of her Maiden’s Voyage, White
8 Star’s Flagship, biggest in the world:
9 4 days out to sea, and she was struck
10 by some black iceberg. It left her that night
11 down at her head, as her wireless rang above,
12 in her pinging masts, “May Day! May Day! C.D.Q.
13 S.O.S.” (history’s first, sluicing!), cracked her last
14 Telegraph, before she foundered, slaying fifteen hundred.
© by Richard Vallance, May 1st, 2001
* Titanic was the first ship ever in history to send an S.O.S.,
which had been just mandated by the International Marine
Commission to replace the former distress call, “CQD” =
“Come, quick, danger!”
Previously published in: Vallance, Richard.
Canadian Spirit Voices © 2003. ISBN 1-878431-44-7
___________________________________
Belladonna
a
drop
of
deadly nightshade
on
this
page
and
you
die
to
read
it.
O my Bella Donna!
© by Richard Vallance April 25 2005
RICHARD VALLANCE was Born in Guelph, Ontario, Canada, March 11th., 1945. He holds an Honours B.A. and Master of Library Science, and is fluently bilingual in English and French. He also reads Spanish and Italian, ancient Greek and Latin well. He wrote his first major poem at the age of 18, in 1963. Richard has also distinguished himself in the field of library and information science. In 1983, he won the $1,000 Data Courier Award for Excellence in Online Published Papers.
Richard has composed over 2,500 poems. He is the Chairperson of the Ottawa Chapter of The Canadian Poetry Association, website = Canadian Poetry Association: Affiliation Ottawa Chapter. He is also a member of The Canadian Federation of Poets, where he is the Canadian Federation of Poets/ Featured Poet (January 2005). Richard judges and pre-selects all rhymed verse poetry for CFP's official journal, POETRY CANADA. Richard's world class poetry page is Poesie’s laissez-faire Faire Foire, which showcases over 40 poets worldwide. PLFFF features sonnets, haiku, contemporary and historical poetry. PLFFF is a member of Phenomenal Men of The Web: Arts & Humanities. Richard is the Editor of 2 Canadian poetry E-Zines, Canadian Zen Haiku canadien ISSN 1705-4508 and Poetry in Emotion = La Poésie à s'émouvoir ISSN 1705-4516, and is the editor of the sonnet journal in print, SONNETTO POESIA ISSN 1705-4508, to be listed in 2006 Poet's Market and distributed online by OpenMic.com. Creativity Pays (USA). Richard's poetry and sonnets frequently appear in such in print poetry journals as POETRY CANADA, POEMATA (Canadian Poetry Association), The Neovictorian/Cochlea (Madison, Wisc., USA) and The Nisqually Delta Review (USA). His CD-ROM book, Canadian Spirit Voices, Kedco Studios, Las Vegas, NV © 2003, ISBN 1-878431-44-7, some 500 pp. long, contains over 130 of his poems, almost 300 haiku, 32 translations of poetry in ancient Greek, Latin, Italian, German and French into English poems by the author, a novella, DENIZEN, and the 100 + pp. essay, "The Historical Evolution of the Sonnet". He is the Editor-in-Chief of the all-new multilingual international poetry anthology, The New Pleiades Anthology of Poetry = le Florilège de la nouvelle Pléiade, Kedco Studios, ISBN ISBN 1-878431-52-8 to be published in the summer of 2005. Finally, Richard is co-editor with Sondra Ball of the USA, of the North American poetry anthology, The Human Face = le Visage humain, Kedco Studios, ISBN ISBN 1-878431-52-X, to be published in 2006. Richard Vallance moderates 2 major poetry discussion groups, The New Pleiades Mirror and Canadian Zen Haiku canadien. CONTACT: Richard Vallance
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RANDOM ENCOUNTER “Could you be,” I said to the first bald man I met on the street, “The famous poet?” He glared, shrugged, “My name is Dan.” I shook his hand. “Nice to know it.” “I have,” he said, “ small talent for rhyme But on occasion I can alliterate. Will that do?” “Formalisms, in good time,” I replied, “can be of good utility.” He raised one eyebrow. “I contemplate”, He countered,” some futility In chaotic conversations of this kind.” Both palms upraised I nodded. “Excuse me, I had hoped you wouldn’t mind.” Hands pocketed he prodded. “What in Hell are you at?” Smiling, I replied. “Mere idle curiosity.” “You seem”, he said, adjusting his cravat, Voicing some bellicosity, “To have the brains of a kangaroo.” I backed off, turned to retreat. Things had progressed too downbeat. He screamed at me and threw his shoe. © Jan Sand 2005 SCHIAVO In time previous the static stars In seeming peace, immobile, securely, Nailed firm into the firmament. Sense is devious. Stars have a term to bloom Out of dust compaction, Gravity seduced into compressed fury From the proximity Of angry infinitesimals. They birth, they grow, Expend their glow and dim, Cease to define the sky. Frequently explode, disperse And, like you and I, Die. In tradition the body, Stained by disdain, Seen merely as utility, Mechanical. Clearly inferior, A thing of Caliban. Turned by pleasure, coerced by pain. We differ, Lurking inside its interior, Sheltered from sunlight, Shielded from rain, We are aristocrats of speculation. We tango with imagination, Assume a special rapport Which insulates from the common fate That presses all else To total termination. We conceal from ourselves This beast, this flesh, this blood Whose small spinal lightnings Flash, connect, convey The incessant commerce of the molecules To the cave of consciousness To create us. Conjuring our ability To its own utility. We will away awareness Something could occur To impair the passage of the messages. To not feel the fragility Of solidity – How distantly we exist From reality. All openings are now shut. Shadows no more fall To mimic the real. I have fabricated stars To identify my own dark. Ghosts appear. Friends and family are evoked, Dissolve at my thought. Fields of flowers, summer scented winds Fragrances of fresh earth, Of sun dried laundry, The angry slam of a screen door. They come, they fade. I can make a world. Something rumbles. Can thunder penetrate This empty state? Something’s about. My stars are going out. © Jan Sand 2005JAN SAND is a poet and illustrator from New York (now residing in Helsinki), is a regular contributor to Poetry Life & Times and the newsgroup alt.arts.poetry.comments. A great deal of his work is about animals, or science fiction. Recently Jan was published by Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press, on their latest CD ROM e-book, "A Way With Words (Poetry Real and Surreal), which also includes complete books by Dale Houstman, Sara L. Russell and Keith Gabriel Hendricks. Jan's illustrated book on the CD is called "Wild Figments And Odd Conjectures", which is also sold separately, in a limited-edition "single" CD. To see an illustrated article about Jan's poems, visit the November '98 issue of Poetry Life & Times, and scroll down past the Editor's Letter. He also has his own poetry pages on Charlotte's Web at Artvilla. Back to top
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The Life of a Rose It grew up in a glass house; in opulent deep scarlet red, forming a tightly-rolled bud away from the music of bees and the ravages of late spring frosts. Picked on the brink of blossoming it stood poised with lofty sister buds in a green florist's bucket, for several days as people came and went. He chose it with care. It was plucked from obscurity's corner at the peak of half-unfurled perfection. He had it wrapped in a lace of gypsophilia, rolled in cellophane, finished with a bow. He gave it to her as they stood in her doorway, his hand shaking slightly. She tore the petals off and threw it at his feet. © Sara L. Russell 01/01/02 THE HANDS OF PANDORA Voices from dreamscapes are resonant deep in the mind calling the dreamer to dabble in pools of the id calling out names long-forgotten, of underworld kind, the hands of Pandora are reaching to open the lid. Follow unthinkable thoughts through unstoppable dark paralysis nightmares, the mouth awakes arid and mute the mind sends a prayer to a sky seeming empty and stark As the ceiling grows eyes and the legs of the dresser take root. Falling through chasms of night to the teeth of the dawn Hungry malevolence waiting, unseen and unheard, The birds wait to gibber, the sun waits to sizzle the lawn The Martians will misunderstand you, at your every word. © Sara L. Russell 17/2/02 Our Benefactors* *A Sonnet Riddle Always walking discreetly-far behind, Never too far away to catch our fall; Gracing the nobler reaches of the mind Ever present and vigilant withal. Love needs no thanks, no recognition here, Salvation is but one wingbeat away, Given for all held meaningful and dear, Unflinching light untangles night from day. Always they watch, with eyes brimful of love, Regardless of whether we are aware; Defending all our strongholds from above, Yet silent and intangible as air. Our benefactors pass through wall and door, Under, above, behind us and before. © Sara L. Russell, 2004SARA RUSSELL Poet, cartoonist and short story writer. Editor of Poetry Life & Times. Newsgroup signature was originally 'Pinky Andrexa, Last Of The Cyber Vixen Poets From Outer Space'. Won Internet Arts Award from Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press. Runner-up in Capricorn International Love Poetry competition 1998. Her website Poetry Life & Times recently won the Alpha Poets' Poetic Eyes web award. Won Poet of the Week in the Poetry For Thought group (The Globe groups) for the week April 28-May 4th, 2001, with the poem "If You Were Mine". Inducted into The Poets' Hall of Fame, 2001, and included in its anthology for that year. Recently broke several bones after falling from a train; now fully recovered after almost a year, and walking without a limp following a recent successful hip operation. Published Works: 5 illustrated e-books published by Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press (most recent first): Worlds Inside The Head, Quickies, Spiders And Gliders, A Way With Words (in collaboration with four other poets) and Pinky's Little Book of Shadows. Also published in several Kedco e-book anthologies and Forward Press bound book anthologies.
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