One Poem by Denis LeCavalier

Billy Goat

As tuned in,
when he was young
and talented as a criminal;
animal,
wild in the city streets.

He has chops
in the underbelly.
Not a moss pebble,
but a bright star
straining though rationalities just,
and burnt endings
for a pleasing few.

He is most at home
when the sun is down.

And in the night,
slaughter house.
Traditionally off key
and a bit of
the Billy goat,
the ladies love him,
ferociously.

Bad guy
with mad eyes,
seeing stars
in city skies.

Footstep,
a nightly jaunt
his everything,
absolutely.

{Poem by Denis LeCavalier}

One Poem by James Ryan Denton

Slumber, Dear Child

Auroral grass cries tears of dew;
Green headstones
Cloaked with fibrotic strands of mourning,
Laced to withstand incessant floods of pain--

The flower drops a humble face
Afraid to view the dark;
The petal withers from strain
And grasps a neighbor's arm--

The child creeps into bed and tries to fall asleep;
Her soft pure hands rise to her eyes
But the sights are never clean;
Slumber, dear child, all through the night,
Slumber through the day,
Slumber through the rest of time,
Try to stay away.

{Poem by James Ryan Denton}

Fame by John Duncklee

Fame

They called him “Kid”
Long after he danced
Long after he rode
Long after he rustled
Long after he killed

What if they had called him “Mister”
Or just Bill or William?
Fun loving but sober
His true friend, “Thunderer”
Constant companion
Sometimes too close a friend
Personally costumed
Twinkles in his eyes
Loved the señoritas
Because they loved to dance
Hunted down
Captured
Escaped
Reputation established
Not as a dancer
As a villain
A kid villain
Is he still around?
Does “Thunderer” still bellow?
Do his eyes still twinkle?
Or do they stare with menace?
What good is fame If you can’t dance?

{Poem by John Duncklee}

Two Poems by Derrick Harrison Hurd

Monuments Under the Sea
For Andre

Evolution, a heartless game
rendered us humans with hearts and souls
gods played at being men
men played at creating gods
building monuments under the sea
and spinning countless revolutions
of the same cycle in another language
Perfection begs deviation
and thus we grow
and soon will
also go


Pirates
For Kelly

There are blessings that are treated as curses
and curses that bring about blessings
The blessed are simply that
as are the cursed
Gratitude completely evacuates need
and an empty life becomes an impossibility
when the curse and the blessing
are the same

{Poems by Derrick Harrison Hurd}

One Poem by Julien Edmund Moss

An Excerpt of Portraits D'Alaska

4.
O Alaska! Call to the East with your Western territorial voice.
Without you, I should surely not know of the wild,
Though I would think that I knew it.

Call forth with bears, who scavenge destitute motor vehicles,
And your miniscule airports stacked room-atop-room,
And your town which stands nearly as small,
And your highways, byways, triways, but no freeways.

5.
Frontier Alaska, separate from the rest of America,
Call to us, and remind us of Ourselves.

{Poem by Julien Edmund Moss}

Rest by Dillon Shosted

Rest

Set from the path of eternity
A man shelters his young
From the outcasts trembling in fear
Brought in from abuse of his fate
I see no fault in those lingering
But whats to say there will be
An awakening of thought compromised
Into one box throughout life
The man drifts ahead looking for his ruby
Blinded by his burden he shall inherit no more but only the
Covenant prize of living in rest

{Poem by Dillon Shosted}

Poetry by Francee Bouvenir

Be Nature

"I always hold my head up high and never go without a day like I’m about to die."


Woman

Walked alone in the dark; I stared at the statues in the park.
    Woman
Omitted the things are old and never take them back cold.
    Woman
Moments when I’m alone, I feel like I’m stone.
    Woman
Affected after being abuse certainly again I won’t be use.
    Woman
No way I goes underground where no one hear me makes a sound.
    Woman


Be Proud

"I won’t give up on me and hide either, no matter how many times I go through that paradox box; I will fight like I’m on fire even until my last breath."


Dark Side

Day was done, night was gone.
Air so high, I breathe into a sigh.
Remembered my fears had me broken down into tears.
Knowledge is my strength, formidable that my mind acts in length.

Sacrificed when I put my goals on hold, they probably aren’t worth
    as gold.
Imitated when the birds’ flea while they crossed over by the sea.
Dramatically when I hear bells, the sound is different from shells.
Even though when I wants to cry, I stills let the tears roll down
    until they’re dry.

{Poetry by Francee Bouvenir}

A Bit of Beauty by Peter Menkin

Excerpted from Apartment on the Third Floor

Warm, here just roof above,
and
among the trees in
company of hawks

who nest. One hawk
sits
on a branch, lit by engaging
moments of
sun; spring newness amid
the gray manmade
world that impedes yet connects
the eternal life.

{Poem by Peter Menkin}

Water by Joel Frohlich

Water

I am like the water, never the same.
Sometimes icy and cold when the atmosphere around me is frigid,
I become stubborn and unmoving,
But warm me up to a cheerier temperature,
And I flow smooth around obstacles,
Running, quick and powerful like a great river,
Never stopping until I reach the great ocean of life!
And when I am energized still more,
I become the vapor that is so free,
High and careless, floating among the clouds,
In the serene blue sky of paradise

{Poem by Joel Frohlich}

By the Poet Peter Layton

Us, Our Art Nouveau Day At A Beach

I'm down by the wet sucking to the shoreline.
The horizon fills like a vacant gas to the sky.

You and your beauty are not here.

I'll say all the words to myself now holding
the apparent future like a negative thing.

The familiar noodling sound of the eels the
thin sand fin sharks, everything like the tosses
of the light air birds
shrilling at each other, I'll set out
the blanket and its topsy turvy salts
watching, making up things about clouds.
Each one being each one.

{Poem by Peter Layton}