|
Index of poets:
*
ROBIN OUZMAN
HISLOP
*
THREE POEMS
From
"HUNTER'S MOON 2006"
Robin Ouzman's Hinterland
2000, first book of (Trilogy) In Memoria.
~Just Suibhne
So:
~After
the Cave, the Comet: Read here the full text
~Least Assuages
Revisited
~Blue Corn
|
From " Hunter’s Moon".
Part I: Moon in Reflection
iii.
Suibhne goes Human .*
Come creature & conjoin the human club,
Don’t turn your nose up at it with a snub.
Become a member of the human race,
Where any old mug will fit with a face.
Don’t skulk in the shadows an animal beast,
Phase out the music, a human at least.
And should the whole shamozzle then be lies,
It doesn’t matter as everyone dies.
Even though we’re neither unique nor great,
Join the human club before it’s too late.
A place where all have a story to tell,
Dearly afterwards a soul to sell.
For though it reads as silly and sad,
It’s all the elements good, bad and mad.
Handed down in righteous privilege,
Bred in a sty, in a pidge, in a squidge.
Ice cream man on a green hill far away,
Last inhabited island after thaw day.
*The medieval Irish work
"Buile Shuibhne". Translation James G O Keefe Ms
Royal Irish
Acadamy. 17th Century. * Suibhne Geilt mythical poet-King
of Dal
Araidhe anonymous
9th century Irish prose poem The Frenzy of Suibhne.
From Hunter's Moon, Part 2: Moon On
Water
xiii.
Lament for the Bronte Sisters.
Though a lover kept her tryst.
Though her heart were steadfast.
Yet they whispered, she knew not,
She only her beloved called
From those lonely raven ridges.
Beyond the world, word for word,
Beyond the forlorn answering echo,
On another horizon, that orison
That told her that she’d loved.
Yet I’ll roam no more the downs
Gloaming, to seek their odes.
For sisters three, still I hear icy wails flail
On bitter winds, nor freedom from your rags,
Raised to riches by the coolies,
Amongst those dark satanic mills.*
*W Blake. Jerusalem.
From Hunter's Moon, Part 3: Moon in my
Room
xxx.
Goddess of the South Seas.
Like Aphrodite drawn
By her wild sea mares,
Naked in scalloped shell
She crests the waves’ spray,
As beautiful & as alluring,
As since art & time began.
The sea serpent, her alter ego,
Dwells in vast caverns beneath
Sheer precipice of coral reef,
Where you dive into luminary
Depths of shimmering lights.
Her names, once known by a dead
Long gone to a sea of phantoms,
Dance in the womb of incubation.
A well of gravity that spawns
The ocean’s unleashed shoal
Still trembling from the deeps,
Where you hover in suspense.
|
ROBIN
OUZMAN HISLOP:
Born
UK. Childhood in Lyme Regis & Poole
Dorset. Lived Scotland & Scandinavia, The East & Spain. He now
lives in Sheffield, South Yorkshire, UK. He appeared in the
Dawn Millenium & Crystal Dawn Anthologies published by
Kedco Studios. When he first joined the world wide net he abandoned his
previous poet performance career, mostly had in Spain and often as
bilingual joint translation recitals. His collected works now appear in
Poetry Life and Times every month, so far Hinterland 2000 and
Blue Corn 2002 have appared. Next comes After the
Cave the Comet 2004, Just Suibhne So, Least Assuages Revistited &
Hunters Moon 2006. The entire collection will be available in the epic
form 2 Trilogies In Memoria. He started as resident poet with
Poetry
Life & Times in March 2005 & took over its editorship
together with Spanish poetess Amparo Arrospide from Sara Russell
in May 2006.
Back to top
*
SARA
RUSSELL
Further
reading:
A Review of The Pain and
the Itch, by Bruce Norris, featuring Matthew Macfadyen, by Sara Russell
*
|
An
autograph signing photo: Sara Russell and her favourite actor, Matthew
Macfadyen.
Matthew Macfadyen
has appeared in (to name but a few): The Way We Live Now, In My
Father's Den, Warriors, Perfect Strangers, Spooks (As Tom Quinn), Pride
& Prejudice (as Mr. Darcy) and more recently in Middletown and
Death at a Funeral... soon to appear in Frost/Nixon. He is in his early
thirties and is married to the actress Keeley Hawes, who played Zoe in
Spooks and has also appeared in Tipping the Velvet and Under the
Greenwood Tree. Sara Russell met Matthew on two occasions when he was
appearing in The Pain and the Itch, as the American character Clay, at
the Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square. These were two special outings
with Sara and a group of friends who all met on the internet on a
Matthew M. fan forum called darcylicious.com. Matthew was found to be
gracious, friendly and quietly-spoken. He signed autographs and posed
for pictures with fans even when he was running short of time before
going on stage. These poems are an affectionate
tribute to the real Matthew rather than any of the characters he has
played.
Daydreams of Matthew
Sara L. Russell, 2/7/07
Dreaming still
of moments beholding man of paradise
looking deep into limpid pools reflecting summer sky,
soft long-lashed eyes, enfolding all in love;
I am losing my footing where earth melts into space.
Dreaming still
a spectator of what cannot be mine
I may savour ghost kisses, the warmth of borrowed smiles,
softly-curving, full lips of rosy bloom,
I am walking on cloudscapes, set adrift on rising air.
Seeming still
like some vision recovered from a dream
he caresses my hearing with velvet cadences of words,
within memories of all-too fleeting time;
where I still kiss his shadow and daydream of his eyes.
-----------------------------------
An Encounter With Mr. M.
Sara L. Russell 11/07/07
Some things seem out of reach as cloudless skies,
Yet some are not so distant as they seem.
Here comes the man with smoky-azure eyes
To touch a life and spin another dream.
He stepped out of the television screen
To saunter up and greet us with a smile,
And suddenly the London streets seemed clean
And pigeons danced in Busby Berkley style.
Tongue-tied, we went up for an autograph
To hear the velvet voice we all adore,
All spellbound to perceive a smile or laugh;
Every encounter begs one more encore.
Though casually-attired, he seemed to me
As princely as the squire of Pemberley.*
*Matthew Macfadyen played Mr. Darcy in the movie
Pride & Prejudice, 2005.
------------------------------------
Darcy's Sonnets - 4:
Sara L. Russell, 2005
(given to Matthew in folder with drawing, 21st
Jul. '07)
Mr. Darcy's Sleepless Night
Elizabeth! All heaven breathes the name
Whereon abject desire became impaled!
Whose accusations cast me into shame;
So difficult to please - and I have failed.
To have been roundly hated from the start,
Where I supposed she meant only to tease!
Would that those subtle glances stilled my heart
And I had never felt such agonies.
Elizabeth! What kind of sorceress,
What vengeful angel, what siren of pain,
What torturer would have love's slave confess,
Only to throw such ardour back again?
Sweet mercy, take her spectre from my eyes,
Lest dreams bring torment when the lamplight dies.
|
SARA
RUSSELL Poet, cartoonist and short story writer.
Founder 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.
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.
The
Perils of
Norris Cartoon by Sara Russell has moved to its own gallery
here...
don't miss gorgeous Norris misadventures!
|
***
MICHAEL BURCH
***
MICHAEL BURCH
|
MICHAEL BURCH
Safe Harbor
The sea at night seems
an alembic of dreams-
the moans of the gulls,
the foghorns' bawlings.
A century late
to be melancholy,
I watch the last shrimp boat as it steams
to safe harbor again.
In the twilight she gleams
with a festive light,
done with her trawlings,
ready to sleep . . .
Deep, deep, in delight
glide the creatures of night,
elusive and bright
as the poet's dreams.
Are You the Thief
-for Beth
When I touch you now,
O sweet lover,
full of fire,
melting like ice
in my embrace . . .
when I part the delicate white lace,
baring pale flesh,
and your face
is so close
that I breathe your breath
and your hair surrounds me like a wreathe . . .
tell me now,
O sweet, sweet lover,
in good faith . . .
are you the thief
who has stolen my heart?
Excerpts from "Poetry"
Poetry, I found you
where at last they chained and bound you;
with devices all around you
to torture and confound you,
I found you-shivering, bare.
They had shorn your raven hair
and taken both your eyes
which, once cerulean as the skies,
had leapt at dawn to wild surmise
of what was waiting there.
Your back was bent with untold care
and savage beatings left cruel scars
as though the wounds of countless wars;
your bones were broken with the force
with which they lashed your flesh so fair.
You once were loveliest of all.
So many nights you held in thrall
a scrawny lad who heard your call
from where dawn's milling showers fall-
pale meteors through sapphire air.
I learned the eagerness of youth
to temper for a lover's touch;
I felt you, tremulant, reprove
each time I fumbled over-much.
Your merest word became my prayer.
You took me gently by the hand
and led my steps from child to man;
now I look back, remember when-
you shone, and cannot understand
why now, tonight, you bear their brand.
*
I will take and cradle you in my arms,
remindful of the gentle charms
you showed me once, of yore;
and I will lead you from your cell tonight-
back into that incandescent light
which flows out of the core
of a sun whose robes you wore.
And I will wash your feet with tears
for all those blissful years . . .
my love, whom I adore.
|
|
MICHAEL R. BURCH is the editor of
The
HyperTexts where he has
published the work of three Pulitzer Prize nominees and
recent winners of the T. S. Eliot, Richard Wilbur and Howard Nemerov
awards. He has been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and his
work has appeared over 450 times in literary journals and sundry
publications in the USA, England, Scotland, Canada, Australia, South
Africa and India, including The Chariton Review, Poetry Magazine,
Verse, Poet Lore, Unlikely Stories, Light Quarterly, Writer’s Digest –
The Year’s Best Writing 2003, The Best of the Eclectic Muse 1989-2003,
The Lyric, ByLine, Icon and Nebo.
Back to top |
*
THE LIGHT SIDE OF NIGHT
by
HELGA ROSS
*
|
The Light Side of Night
And the night shall be
filled with music
And the cares that infest
the day
Shall fold their tents
like the Arabs
And as silently steal
away.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Day Is Done”
The light side of
night affords delight:
Time for quietude,
the din subdued;
the twilight—too
swift,
too subtle to
discern,
alights or lowers
slow,
lengthens shadows
into indigo—
stems the tide of
to-and-fro;
blanket-like,
soothes;
dims the worst of
our sights;
causes us,
world-weary, a pause,
only right;
lets the cares
lapse in the blue;
chance to relax,
to let go,
collapse into
comfort India ink hued,
as long as it
looms.
The light side of
night is tonight:
balmy night, scent
of candle light/
cool night by the
fire light/
dispelled, the
gloom
a good
book/movie/music that moves;
and through the
windows
milky way ware
winks a sliver of
moon;
maybe a full
frontal stare;
spells more than
here is there
watching you,
reflecting in pools
and luminous rooms;
till lulled,
silence blurs, sinks
in the sleepiness,
black canopy
bedding us,
battening recall,
or velvety,
envelopes us,
and colors the
loss opaque.
The light side of
night is to like:
feels right for
feeling;
right for rest;
ripe for healing,
for fantasy;
dining, dancing,
and romance;
for not
doing—being;
for living the
part—the lover, the loved—
loving, not
reading and watching;
drifting off in
the faith;
for asking,
finding,
sage answers in
dreams;
waking wiser,
refreshed for what
we face.
In the dark some
gaze at the ground;
others the stars,
succumb to the
succor
or surrender to
fears:
The choice is ours.
© Helga Ross 2003, 2007
|
Canadian
poet, HELGA ROSS loves the
well-written word and loves to
write her own; derives great pleasure from great literature, art and
life, and the great outdoors. Everything old is new again in 2007 –
She’s moved back to her old home town, Burlington, Ontario, after half
a lifetime--for a new start. "You can't go home again" so they say --
She shall see. Helga expresses herself through an eclectic writing
repertoire of material, style and form. 2004, however, was her literary
turning point: She 'discovered' poetry in a big way. Now, poetry is her
passion and focus, particularly Sonnet forms, though not exclusively.
For Helga, the theme is 'Passion' in the broadest sense. She believes
and illustrates in her writing: "The creative mind plays with the
objects it loves". - Carl Jung
Her poetic voice is
playful,
provocative, uplifting. Her serious pieces
conclude on a positive note; reflect her approach to life: "Love. Fall
in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you
write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and
write something you love, something to live for." — Ray Bradbury On the
key to success
Recent Accomplishments:
Prix
Poesie's laissez-faire Faire Award, April
2004. Poetry selections published in Sonnetto Poesia Vol.3 no.2 Spring
2004; Vol.4 no.4 Autumn 2005; Vol. 5 no.2 Spring 2006.
Back to top
|
