King Midas' Oasis
Midas in the desert beheld a head
Removed from statue of a king long-dead
Removed from any other mark of land,
A golden head staring up from the sand.
No carved skull but a chiseled face
Thin and muscular, full of grace
One must assume, but with a stare
Fierce and greedy: an angry glare.
There in the desert stared that head
Blind to how past it, time had crept;
As the sun rose up, it illuminated
The sand: gold, unkept, wind-swept,
Devoid and as bodiless as the head
He beheld himself in the sand and wept.
North and South
Mark Herron is a Midwestern American poet and information professional in higher education and healthcare, as well as a Community Teaching Assistant (CTA) for the Modern and Contemporary American Poetry (ModPo) MOOC offered by the University of Pennsylvania through Coursera.org. Mark got started formally writing poetry at Oberlin College (B.A. English and Theater, 1989) and then went into the sciences at John Carroll University (M.A. Biology, 2000). Mark lives in the Great Lakes area and writes on many topics and he typically writes shorter works early in the mornings. Some of Mark's poems and other works are available on his blog at http://theouterringblog.blogspot.com
Where night was, now
a flush of light.
One thousand miles an hour and still
it comes slowly.
A silvery rill, a rising.
and turning, lean
Another revolution revealing
tree, stone, bird.
This is how it is made.
This is how it is remade.
To turn toward the shore of morning,
hug the cusp of sleep
as the world takes shape and we name it.
the sky bursts
© Martha Magenta
Martha Magenta lives in England UK. Her poems focus on a wide variety of topics including: love, loss, spirituality and meditation, environment abuse, and violence against women. Recently, she has begun to write haiku. A number of her poems and haiku have been published in online journals. Her other activities include: organic gardening, herbalism, and aromatherapy. She is co-owner of POETS, the second largest poetry community on Google Plus.
Julie lives in the high desert of central Oregon, anchored to the west by mountains scribed with snow, to the east by sage and distance. She says, "I write to translate the world."
The roaring sound of the fighter jet deafens the inhabitants of far north
A regular occurrence
They are used to the sound but not for the consequences
Over them is the suspicious sky
At any moment the monstrous bird could loom over
Uncertainty is what they experience
Mothers keep watchful eyes on their infants, mindful at the children at school and husbands at field wondering whether they will return to her safely
And praying at the same time for their safe return
The heart thumps fast even to the smallest sound
Being alert is the key for survival
When will the bombs rain down?
When will the guns whizz bullets?
In a fraction of second anything could happen
They could lose their homes, the lives of their beloveds, the part of their own body
Torn between power greedy lunatics
They have lost the right to life.
The buses and trains at rush hours in the south are filled with suspicious and fear filled faces
Uncertainty looms in their eyes
A fire cracker would be enough to scatter them as wild bees
A fear always nestle in their hearts
A fear for a human bomb or unknown parcel that could blow them up
A silent prayer is always on their lips for safe return to their loved ones left behind
The right to life, the basic human right, denied
A mother, a wife, a sister live far south
The haggard faces demonstrating anxiety and fear
Always in expectant of news from the front of the north where their son, husband, brother battle with terror
They live on the edge
Burdened with uncertainty
Praying for the safe return of their beloveds
The right to live with peace and happiness denied
In north innocent suffer
In south innocent suffer
In north and south same prayer, same hope, same whisper for peace.
Pirouette Confessions By Doren Damico
Pirouetting salsa diva
Permutations of the ideal
Rivulets of perspiration
Perfumed pheromones communing
Night after tomorrow
Diffusing pristine fantasies
Plethoric and piteous step
Passion phoenix resurrection
Perspicuously percussive twins
Pertinacious flick of the wrist
Falsely passive domination
Sex in the
Doren Damico is a lyricist and poet with a passion for the art of being human. For more poems and poetic commentary check out her blog archive, Poetry, at: dorendamico.com