Poem by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray – Let not give me Sermon! January 3, 2023
Posted by vscorpiozine in poems, poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.Tags: Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, poems, poetry, poets from India
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Let not give me Sermon!
Don’t you know, my soulmate
I am neither a habitual offender of casual type
Nor an escapist with utmost hype!
You know a little bit but very well
About me, my sense of both seriousness and humour,
My outer side that dazzles day in and day out.
My inner self that hides its face under the veil of dark paramount.
Gone are those days when though being matured by age,
I was also a novice of cent percentage.
Knew not I the prevailing atmosphere of selfishness at the core but philanthropic at the front galore.
You left me on the way,
Whether to perish or flourish,
The reasons you know the better,
How I can guess , what was the matter?
But your unprovoked indifference, being a silver lining
Gave me a lesson to learn
Don’t tell me like my grandmother,
Now everyday, at each moment of every journey I meet persons and events novel and unforeseen.
I very well know where exists the deadly manhole and also the footpath that resists the turmoil,
When to overtake at which juncture and when to say someone good bye with kind gesture,
Where the speed needs to be augmented and where the rumblers are sharp enough haunted.
The ups and downs of this road have opened up my eyes for good,
Now it’s hard for someone to deceive me in plentitude.
Even now you are not the right person for me to sermoning,
May be one of my well-wishers whom I still love and beckoning.
Dr. Alok Kumar Ray
Bio-Note: Dr.Ray is a professor of Political Science and a bilingual poet who hails from Kendrapara district of Odisha in India..He has authored two poetry books in solo i.e. Sillage (in English) and Meghapanata (in Odia). He has edited one international bilingual poetry anthology named as Trouvaille. By profession he is an academician, but by passion he is a poet.
Poem by John Sweet – with broken wings, with bruised hearts December 29, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Sweet, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.Tags: John Sweet, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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with broken wings, with bruised hearts
& the future is prisons, you see,
and the future is loss
let go of yr house, of yr
children, but hang onto the hatred
that defines you
give up christ
give up all those pretty songs
your mother used to sing
close in on holiness
like a soldier taking aim
Read more of John’s poetry at The Bleeding Horse, Avenged
Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal – Better Days and Biography December 15, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Los Angeles poets, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.Tags: Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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Better Days
I was less of myself
from the days I was better.
The mirror did not lie.
I left my best days behind.
I waited for daylight,
dreaming of better days.
I knew that day would come.
More of me would return every
hour of every day. The sun
would wash my eyes out and
return my soul that had left
my body believing I had died.
I was less of myself
from the days I was better.
Biography
I know I was born
and I know I am still alive.
I am here to tell you about it.
When I was a child
I was raised by my grandparents.
I had a good life growing up.
Each day was better than the next.
I had yet to see the ocean
and death was not a thing I thought about.
It might as well been a wounded beast
moaning in pain and I would not have
recognized that sound. I lived a quiet life.
I lived an innocent life.
I played in the rain and never got sick.
I learned grammar in school.
I did not know I would be a writer.
As I grew older I experienced the deaths
of almost all the people that influenced me
the most. I have my mother still,
whom I love most of all. Without her my life
and those of my siblings would be in ruins.
BIO: Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry and artwork has appeared in Art:Mag, Medusa’s Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, Rogue Wolf Press, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
Winter-Poem by Jade Blackmore December 3, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, Los Angeles poets, poets from Illinois, Veteran Poets, winter.Tags: Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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It’s not cold enough at 50 degrees. The seasons are all mixed up.
We need a challenge, a thin sheet of ice, a specter from the sky.
A myopic wind chomping at the reigns.
Something to make the tribe tougher.
And then the window rattles you awake
To guarantee ice cube drudgery with each step.
The bridge across the river clotted with snow,
A crunchy and obstacle-ridden
reminder of your delicacy.
Square shards of ice in shoe corners, a numbing,
And then the reprieve –
A push through flimsy aluminum,
flesh crooked with cold pushes through to the crackle of home
The door hinge squeaks like a welcoming sigh
Then seals you into recovery,
A warm blast of love and soup.
Poems by John Grey – Why Bother? and The Honeymoon Mystery August 15, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Grey, Veteran Poets.Tags: John Grey, poems, poetry
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WHY BOTHER
Why bother waking up
from your afternoon nap?
There’s some kids outside
tormenting a dying bird.
A nap is to be contented in.
To enter a world where birds sing,
don’t crawl broken-winged across the sidewalk
while being poked by sticks.
Being awake, you report to the open window
and scream at the urchins down below.
They laugh at you, old man.
Why bother waking up your impotency?
THE HONEYMOON MYSTERY
You were into some amazing secret
that is often hinted at but never revealed.
It is inconceivably sacred.
Incredibly precious.
There were times I thought it was mere coincidence
that I was lying on the bed beside you.
I certainly wasn’t the fruit of the holy.
The mystery no heart can fathom or tongue relate.
Byzantine? I was half-undressed.
Pagan ceremony? I wrapped an arm around you.
Templar and Cathar? I held you close to me.
But what was that shining dimly in the background?
Your hand was host enough.
Your body made for an elegant cross.
We were in a cheap hotel room in Phoenix.
Not in the midst of some Arthurian legend.
It was 1987. The object in question, a honeymoon.
I don’t think we failed in our quest.
BIO –
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
Poem by Jade Blackmore – A Man of Some Renown July 24, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.Tags: Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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He was a man of some renown in certain circles. All the crusty bohemians, naïve wanna-bes, and adjuncts to the rich and famous crossed paths with him. You’d find him at blueblood soirees, art galleries, and biker bars.
“I met this guy in the Village,” someone would say, and drop his name, with no description or story attached. And their friends would chime in with unbridled enthusiasm. “Yeah, I know, he’s an asshole” “He owes me money!” or “A girl I work with is his mistress. He treats her like shit.”
But when he died, everybody was ready with a sound bite.
“He was an outstanding guy, a real trailblazer” they all agreed, “We’ll miss him.
Poem by Sushant Thapa- Silent Song June 24, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Sushant Thapa, Veteran Poets.Tags: poems, poetry, poets from Nepal, Sushant Thapa
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The evening moon seems so late tonight
The stars seem too shy to shine
There is no goodbye song sung by birds of dusk
I am waiting with my heart
You haven’t written to me for so long
Your old alphabets are my consolations.
I would while away my time, but you would
Not be wiped from my wandering mind.
The distance seems so near in my memory
But you are not present.
The flame of your absence
Provides me brighter lights of loneliness.
No, this is not a song of detachment
It is a silent song of longing and
Its music is love.
Although, I do not live with emblems of love
I hear you have become words
So, I continue to write about you.
You have forgotten the way to your heart.
Speak not of dreams, and meet me
In my silence.
Bio:
Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet from Biratnagar, Nepal who holds a Master’s
degree in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India.
He has published three books of poetry namely: The Poetic Burden and Other Poems (Authorspress, New Delhi, 2020), Abstraction and Other Poems (Impspired, UK, 2021) and Minutes of Merit (Haoajan, Kolkata, 2021).
Sushant has been published in places like The Gorkha Times, The Kathmandu Post, The Poet Magazine, The Piker Press, Trouvaille Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Impspired, Harbinger Asylum, New York Parrot, Pratik Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily, Atunis Poetry, EKL Review, The Quiver Review, Dissident Voice, As It Ought To Be Magazine and International Times, among many.
He has also been anthologized in national and International anthologies. His poem is also included in Paragon English book for Grade 6 students in Nepal. He teaches Business English to undergraduate level students of BBA and BIT at Nepal Business College, Biratnagar, Nepal.
Poems by Michael Ceraolo – No Guarantees and SHE: A Non-Fable for the 21st Century June 15, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.Tags: Michael Ceraolo, poets from Ohio
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No Guarantees
A reminder
to those who have forgotten it,
or never learned it in the first place:
the freedom to say or do something
does not include with it
exemption from comment about it.
SHE: A Non-Fable for the 21st Century
Setting: any social-media website
NARRATOR: SHE
had graduated college about a year ago
And SHE
announced she was moving into her first apartment
And SHE
announced she was accepting contributions
from any who wished to help support her
And SHE
posted the link for those who wished
to donate to such a worthy cause
THE END
Bio: Michael Ceraolo is a 64-year-old retired firefighter/paramedic and active poet who has had two full-length books (Euclid Creek, from Deep Cleveland Press; 500 Cleveland Haiku, from Writing Knights Press) published, and has two more, Euclid Creek Book Two and Lawyers, Guns, and Money, in the publication pipeline.
Poem- The Quiet World by Jade Blackmore April 14, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in city poems, Jade Blackmore, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.Tags: Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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The Quiet World
Looking at the world from a window.
Apartment dwellers
laugh at the audacity of nature.
two raccoons overtake the parking garage
to make whoopee in plain sight.
The red finch at the feeder
thousands of butterflies skirting across stucco rooftops.
Then a phantasm shuttered the mountains, the planets, the movie scenes
with its’ money,
the lush green steppes only accessible
to the haughty and clueless.
The legacy friend who is quite sure she’s always right, the bluster, the vile and righteous path.
More sculpted glass in the sky,
a formula for escape or detention.
A squirrel scampers up the construction site fence,
another reminder
that the quiet world is out of reach.
Poem by John Grey – Coin in the Jukebox February 11, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Grey, Veteran Poets.Tags: John Grey, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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Coin in the Jukebox
Put a coin in the jukebox
and remember what you wish to remember.
You half-smile when the needle hits shellac.
You can breathe without having to worry
whether or not your lungs are there to greet the air.
You don’t have people wary of you
as if your very touch is poison.
Put that coin in the jukebox.
The effort won’t be wasted.
You can spread your arms wide
or hug yourself tighter.
It doesn’t matter if strangers think you’re crazy.
Insanity has all the best tunes anyhow.
You can be yourself, by yourself,
with legs kicking up a storm
and hips swaying a hurricane.
Put that coin in the jukebox
and sing along with the best croak
your old frog throat can mister.
Show them how wild you can be
as song plops on top of song,
and the names get lost in the vinyl shuffle.
It’s all about the beat
and not the hens who cackle how
you should act your age.
Put that coin in the jukebox
for every old friend gone mute,
for the guys who’ve long hung up their dancing shoes.
Forget the time.
Raise the volume.
There’s nothing like a luminous wrinkled face.
Your withered legs could do this all night.
Put that coin in the jukebox.
A neglected high awaits.
Some singer, long dead,
will give you tips on how to stay alive.
So what if you don’t know the words to the song.
The ones you sing will be minted in the moment.
Put that coin in the jukebox.
Ignore the bartender, the other drinkers.
Leave them to their alcohol-powered disillusion.
Some guy has a trumpet in his mouth.
Another thrashes a willing kit of drums.
The singer unleashes a string of passionate half-sentences.
So much for the soft hue of memory.
It’s a blazing cauldron.
Put that coin in the jukebox.
You create an island for yourself
in waters of sneering and disgust.
With a healthy strut, you grant time permission
to take all those unwanted years back.
You want to be seventeen again.
So push that coin in the slot.
Increase the likelihood.
BIO: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review
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