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Elegy for a Coffee Pot
Thy babbling reservoir sighed the dawning day, Thy drip-drip-drip whispered o'er the lea, Into the kitchen I did plod my sleepy way, And leave the solemn darkness behind me. But, lo! Fades the glimmering red power light, And all the air a hopeless stillness holds, Save the refrigerator's electric might,…
Song of the Humpback
(a fantastickal romance) Laughing like a laughing-guy I watched red roses streak the sky from the bottom of a dugout canoe hiding from (imagining humping) you. Longing like a lonely guy idle thoughts of / taunts from you swept by, ambivilential questions questioned I of you and I, regretted humps-past……
Who Wins At Monopoly: Walt Whitman or Emily Dickinson?
Because she would not leave her rooms for food from Mickey D's. Nor would she likely seek to get a gamepiece mailed for free Miss Dickinson ne'er once did play, enjoy, or even see a board, a piece, an instant win from Mac's “Monopoly”. But since Walt Whitman strolled about…
This Is Just To Ask Because So Much Depends on Depends
By Wills Stevens Williamwallace [pen name] Are you trying to kill me or Am I inferring too much from my hospital bed? Concussion. Three broken ribs. Spleen, ruptured. So much depended on my not being sober when I got up at night to go to the bathroom. At the top…
Ode to an Eighteen Wheeler
Naked-ladied are thy mudflaps and powerful thy thrust down pulsing ways and interstates adorned with diesel dust, pooty-poo! Pooty poo! Thy manly chrome, it glitters. Thy tremulous wheels, they spin. “Amalgamated Grocers” says your flank against the wind, hooty-hoo! Hooty-hoo! Oh, heaven hath not made thee, thou art the work…
Sca-rat-ska-bat-tale: A Movement
Roses bloom red as do violets bloom blue blah bleu bloo da hoo doobly roo dah voo poo Roses grow out of my warm slurry-doo dah pootals dey groo een mee cool sloo wee pool A true universatile nitrogen brew Ska rat scat skatole ska fat bat diddly doo No…
The Pajama’d Elephant
Cheeseburger. Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger? Cheeseburger! who wants a pretty polyester noisemaking parrot death? not I said the flat footed nonesuch— applicator for ease of use and never again will you need to wash dishes without fear of retribution from all local authorities will be handing out free samples of this and…
Trees
I think that I shall never see A woman lovely as a tree. A tree with curvy, supple limbs Against which other beauty dims; A tree that dances in the breeze With leaves that tickle like a tease; A tree, aglow in naked splendor Awaiting me to love it tender;…
To the International Society of Poets
It was so wonderful To hear from you and your poets again, With the offer of awards and fame, Especially during these troubled times. The native uprising continues here. All but gruesome poetry Is out of the question. Many good poets' bodies lie strewn about, Most of them dismembered, Or…
Letter to a Gun from a Head of Oriental Lettuce
to George W. Bush Dear gun, Why you kill so? Future in salad not in bang ouch bleed dead! Sliced Cucumber, not pow pow Little shaved carrot, not boo boo boollets You shoot. I health food You make war. I make metabolation! Oh gun, your mother and I is friends…
No Title
(the poem is it's own master, who I am to label it? I am but a vessel) The son orenge shimer of goldfish, fliting in the river Was…erm…gold and orenge and stuff… It was nice, all suny, with goldfish and…the river, right there (oops spellcheck on) And the geisha's ribbon…
In Memory of W.H. Gates
I. He was deleted in the dead of winter Screensavers frozen, the Airport getting no signal, And spam disfigured the public's email. The Microsoft stock sank all the dying day. O, WTF and OMG The day of his death was a dork's cold day. Far from his virus Computers ran…
Sonnet From the Porch, I Guess
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways. I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height That I could see myself starting a fight And leaving indentations on your face. I hate thee to the level of everyday's Most urgent need, by porcelain tank of white.…
I Am a Grocery Bagger, and I Have Feelings!
The beets pass through my hands waiting to be juiced by the vegan they will scream as he juices them and stain the floor a terrible red Georgia peaches three-thirty-nine white peaches only a dollar must we then conclude to be white is to be cheap? the pieces of lettuce…
Ode to My Remote Control
Ah! Plastic box that lies just out of reach, Many-buttoned friend of I and I; I long to touch you and to massage each Button, nipple-like, before I die. You are the thing I live for, you and whisky, Single malt, of course, not on the rocks. Sometimes on Wednesdays…
Untitled (“One Morning…”)
One morning—I awoke To Find Death next—to Me His dark Head lay, so very Close To Where my Pillow be He said, “hey baby— What's your sign?” I Looked at him, Aghast—! Hesitant, I Told him That I'm an Aquarius— His Questions had not Stopped— quite yet He'd More to…
Sonnets to the Mayonnaise
1 No need for food to stand erect and strong, When globular it most delights my taste; Grease-dripped and dolloped round my loaded plate, It sings my soul a deep-fried glory song: “O seize this day with fork's prodigious prong, Subdue this lard to malleable paste! Consume it now with…
Gerry Sears
(Or, lines written after Samuel Taylor Coleridge) In Tantramar did Gerry Sears A stately pleasure-barn construct, Where he forgathered with his peers, And they imbibed of local beers, While babes on gui-tars pluck'd. So twice five flats of fetid ale Were quaffed with speed lest they go stale, And there…
Untitled (“Drainpipes: angrily grumbling…”)
Drainpipes: angrily grumbling on the edges of fear. Conniving arrogance pondering on the wit of the beach. Islands of jealous sadness, lakes of excited bouyancy. I'd yell with desperation, but I've lost all my waffles. Cold, nervous: I sigh and start to dry my tears; In spite of all that…
Untitled (“When the time comes…”)
When the time comes along to count up the greats, Let's not forget Bush, President of the United States. Many years ago, he was born in Connecticut His skin is as smooth as this loaf of bread I cut. He moved down to Texas and they made him the mayor…
An Ode to Taste
Statues on the lawn are fine when they evoke the true divine: Venus, Mary, Eros, Diana but never once Carlos Santana. Plastic on the porch, no problem, when outdoors you do your goblin'. Never ever bring them in the living room; it is a sin! Internalizing molded chairs, hurts more…
E.V. Noechel
E.V. Noechel oversees Raleigh Rodent Rescue in North Carolina. Her writing is widely published. She was the recipient of the Kelty Award for Outstanding Local Animal Activism, and grants from the North Carolina Arts Council, the United Arts Council, and The Culture and Animals Foundation. She is also a dog…
Chris Paul
Chris may, most days, be found wandering the necropolises of the Tantramar area, roving amid the tombs of the humble and of the mighty. There in the midst of death he ponders mortality, accompanied only by his Muse of Melancholy, his faithful crowbar named “Delilah”. Together they seek new poetic…
The Diet Song of J. Anna Prufroski
Let us jog then you and I While the morning is spread against the sky Like a strawberry Slimfast spilt across a table Let us run through certain half-deserted streets While our feets Lead us to a restless 7-11 and a pint Of Ben and Jerry's Rocky Road That leads…
Tammi Reynolds
Tammi Reynolds is a freelance writer who loves to write about herself in third person. She graduated with a BA in English from Allegheny College in Meadville, PA. Her mentor during college was Diane Goodman, who studied under W.D. Snodgrass. (Ironically, Mr. Snodgrass, a poet of some renown, has affiliated…
Solitude
Hark! I am all alone like the lone seagull that flies over the sea of lonely solitude. No one understands me and ye do not care especially ye two, who said I couldn't spend any more time on MySpace you know who you are. IMHO, thy dost not comprehend how…
Magenta St Germain
Magenta St Germain is the alter ego of Deborah Wilton; the media-shy Deborah paradoxically makes a living writing for the screen. As Magenta, however, she is relishing her newfound fame and fortune. According to a fancy letter from poetry.com, she has been nominated as Poet of the Year, thanks to…
Your Hands Do the Work of 10,000 Highly Trained Lesbian Jumping Beans
Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo…
Maggie May Schill
Maggie May Schill is native to Fall River, Massachusetts and currently lives in Jacksonville, Florida, where she works as a ghostwriter and studies theology. Her first commercial fiction is set to be released in late spring of 2007.
Automotive Safety Survey
A few months ago, my debts were discharged; My bankruptcy over, I was once more at large To spend as I would, with no legal imbroglios, My credit card debt had gone the way of the dodoes. So I bought me a car, a two-thousand-two Sable; To say what were…
Steve Gottlieb
Steve Gottlieb is an attorney and freelance writer and editor living somewhere in Indiana. A former radio announcer, he holds a Bachelor of Science in Communications from Xavier University and a J.D. degree from Indiana University. He has written for such uproariously funny publications as the Federal Discovery News and…
War Is SO Bad: A Compendium of Truth
The dogs of war howling like the enduring bells of Fog (The Fog of War) in a pristine forest (or Desert) during wartime. These doves, these geese flying the frail winds of Peace Like Dogs…. The Dogs of War. Cats are fatter even than dogs The Dogs of War. Two…
Sarah Estes Graham
Sarah Estes Graham is an MFA student at the University of Virginia. She is the recipient of distinguished awards too numerous to mention here or elsewhere. Her poetry has been enjoyed by readers who probably also read The New Yorker, The Norton Anthologies, Poetry, and The Complete Poems of Emily…
Holly Kreger
Love Is Not All
Love is not all; It is not booze or pain Nor a Toshiba 27” television box For which to tape and tape again When torn down by the fox At the campground where you hide Because your old man kicked you out Of the trailer where you used to reside.…
Holly Martin
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The Crack Epidemic
Every place I go, every where I see, a butt crack's staring up at me. I just don't get it at all you know, why anyone wants their butt crack to show. We hear all the time how crack kills. Well let me tell you, yours is killing me still.…
Gayle L. Porter
Gayle L. Porter was born in Bangor, Maine. The wilderness still holds her heart captive. She has lived throughout the US from Maine to Hawaii. Her greatest joy is in spending time with her three grown children. She currently resides in Lincoln, Nebraska passionately pursuing her writing of poetry and…
The Rebellion of Jane
Most treasured parents, to you I send This winged messenger To deliver news that will (I am so very sure) Fill your hearts with endless pride and never ceasing glee I, thy one and only child, am pursuing poetry What of college do you ask? It is ever so plain…
Charity Remington
I am a graduate student at Central Bible College International in Southern Florida. “The Rebellion of Jane” was inspired by the illustrious poetical periodicals of my high school days where every poem was akin to: “An Ode to my Out-of-Date-Parents-Who-Will-One-Day-Be-Sorry” or a sad King James era love sonnet to a…
Sonnet for My Roommate
Shall I compare thee to a boiled egg? Thou art more rotund and more flatulent: Rough winds do shake the rims of my Touareg And my passenger-side door now has a dent: Sometimes too hot, your flatus burns my eyes And often is my suffering vision dimmed; And my very…
John Ryan
I am the chair of the Clayton High School English Department in St. Louis, Missouri. I completed my MFA in Creative Writing at UM-St. Louis, where I served as an editorial assistant for Natural Bridge literary magazine. My fiction appears in the Fall 2005 issue of MARGIN: Exploring Modern Magical…
Take Out
Oh the chicken, coated with perfect piquant sweet yet tangy sauce. Oh the shimmery jewel-like chicken General Tso you do us proud! My son will not share. He proffers one morsel on a slab of cardboard. The one from the bottom of the greasy brown takeout bag. Upstairs alone, I…
C.J. Van Gieson
C.J. is an actor, writer, and news anchor living in Independence, New Jersey. She has a BFA in Theatre from Windham College in Putney, Vermont, and has written for Antagazine, Absolutewrite, and Blue Mountain Arts where her poem “Mom, As I Have Grown” has become an international phenomenon. Currently completing…
Hillbilly’s Folly
Yall come a runnin tar poe-tree con vanshion, An reedger kool pome taar gests a destankshun! An yul probly win the big ol' twenny gran An came bakkat silver bole a wagin' in han! Heer Tony Or lan doe-Wow! but wha'...No Dawn? Wul, how long hazzit bin since that dude…
Andrew Williams
Andrew Williams is a certified advanced energy healer and lives near Fort Worth, Texas, where he also runs the family business, an insurance agency. He graduated from the Robert T. Jaffe School of Energy Mastery in 1997, and loves to write poetry. As a student of Sufism, his poetry often…
Annabel Lee; Revised
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a girl there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to take my hair and fingernail clippings And build a shrine…
Jennifer Biggs
Jeni is 17 years old and a senior at Stebbins High School in Dayton, Ohio. She owes her success as a poet to her mentor, Ken Haponek, and his brilliantly taught creative writing course. Maybe now he will see Jeni is not to be censored, and he will cease giving…
Shall I compare thee, love, to Britney Spears?
Shall I compare thee, love, to Britney Spears? Thou art way cuter! Thou hast bigger tits! No silicone to earn thee extra cheers. Implants shall never be thy greatest hits. But oops! Fair Britney hath done it again And I'm all like no way! Forswear it, tart! For though her…
