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 by Ananta Kumar Singh – A Little Drop of Water May 15, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Ananta Kumar Singh, New Poets.Tags: Ananta Kumar Singh, poets from India
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A Little Drop of Water
A little drop of water
Evoke imagine of the creatures
A little drop of water
Refresh trees’ branches
A little drop of water
The Elegant Beauty of the nature
A little drop of water
Splendour blooms of the flowers
A little drop of water
Express the feelings of the writers
A little drop of water
Monsoon is the season of love.
Bio
Ananta Kumar Singh is an Indian poet. He hails from Bargarh in the Indian state of Odisha. He is studying English literature at Ravenshaw University, Cuttack.
Poems – Sleepless Again and Good Days by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal May 10, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Los Angeles poets, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, New Poets.Tags: poems, poetry
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Sleepless Again
Sleepless again,
awake at the witching hour,
an everyday thing,
no wonder I seem so tired.
I read and watch tv
like I have all the time in the world.
My thoughts are all scrambled.
Who knows when I will fall asleep.
I heard the birds
and their late night songs.
Nature is beautiful.
I sit down to write.
Gathering words,
I throw them against the wall.
Night is when I write
the small poems.
I go to outer space spaces.
I cut things short.
Good Days
Good days stray.
Bad days stay.
One day things
will balance.
Before then,
them bad days
know they are
killing it.
know they arekilling it.
That gets me
down. It hurts.
Help does not
seem to come.
Waterfall tears.
Arms hanging.
At times these
moments stray.
Today is
a good day.
Said as much
yesterday.
Give it time.
You know well
something else
is coming.
Do not fret.
It happens.
It is life
testing you.
Remain strong
in your mind
and hope for
the good days.
BIO:
Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in Escape Into Life, Live Nude Poems, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
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 Sushant Thapa – Third Heart of Love February 15, 2022
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This winter
You came with warm hugs.
I have always kept you close
To feel every season touch me gently.
Escape not like a trespasser
Make me a castle of your address.
I am a metaphor man
Make me lyrical enough to smile.
When you pranked me in April and wrote
“I Love You”
I was a fool to not accept it.
They say love is short lived.
Bring me the forever living time
And make me timeless.
Let’s build a third heart
After yours and mine.
I keep collecting you in my art
Nothing feels new
My mind has become your memory.
The dew that dried knew our love.
The snow that melted traced our love.
Author’s 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. His poems have been published in places like Vscorpiozine’s Blog, Trouvaille Review, The Quiver Review, EKL Review, New York Parrot, Ponder Savant, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Harbinger Asylum, The Kathmandu Post, My Republica, Bharath Vision, Visible Magazine, Sindh Courier, International Times, The Piker Press, Synchronized Chaos Magazine, Pratik Magazine, Impspired, Dumpster Fire Press, The Beatnik Cowboy and As It Ought To Be Magazine. He has also published three books of poetry.
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
Poems and Artwork by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal – Night Be Mine and How Good You Have It November 18, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry, Southern California poets.Tags: Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry, Southern California poets
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Night Be Mine
Night be mine.
All its darkness.
The moon. A
Wall of stars.
Night of dreams.
The moonlight.
The punctual train.
And dark shadow.
Because night
Beats life into
My wings. I
Dream of night
And its stars
And dark shadow.
How Good You Have It
You do not know how
good you have it until
you have been Haldol’ed.
If I had gone into the
family practice and learned
math, I would have been ok.
Just send me home, where
I can continue to dance
to my own music and beat.
When is the pizza coming?
I don’t need to work. Call
a cop or call a copycat.
I cannot hear you. My ears
stopped working years ago.
Blame it on Schizophrenia.
Call a cab for me or put me
on a bus to Neptune or Mars.
I want to get out of this place.
I am sticking to my story
and you stick to yours and
I’ll catch you outside one day.
BIO: Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His latest book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press and can be purchased through Amazon. His poetry has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
Poem by John Grey – The Loud Honk September 27, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Grey, poems, poetry.Tags: John Grey, poems, poetry
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THE LOUD HONK
Traffic near stalled.
The car in front of me
continued to occupy
the place I wanted to be
more than any other.
But, as the vehicle inched forward,
so did that place.
I could see the back of the head
of the woman driving.
It didn’t matter who she was,
what she looked like
or whether her personality
was frothy beer or iced tea.
I couldn’t tell if it
was her selfishness,
or just plain luck,
that saw her edge by
Greg’s liquor store
moments ahead of me.
or stop for some guy
in the crosswalk
when that was a role
I could only see myself in.
I finally pressed my finger
on the horn
because I wanted her to know
that, though she was already
crossing Elm street
and it looked like
I wouldn’t make the light,
that tomorrow could well
be a different story.
That was the sound you all heard.
Not my impatience.
My ultimate vindication.
BIO: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Penumbra, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. His latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in Lana Turner and International Poetry Review.
Poem by Sushant Thapa – The Sky That Stopped Me July 25, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in Uncategorized.Tags: poems, poetry, poets from Nepal, Sushant Thapa, veteran poets
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The Sky that Stopped Me
That late afternoon
I saw the sun hiding behind the clouds.
My eyes swept
from a green tree,
Swinging its arms in the slight breeze.
I stopped for a while that afternoon
To realize that soon evening would drop.
I stopped my walk and my eyes
Stopped in the clouds,
The yellow and the blue
As if they are colours of my
Life which has been too busy.
I rush to make a chapter of verses.
That feeling and the strike
From the clock tower,
Shaking me from the buzz,
A bee hovering,
Flowers singing the tune of balance
Gave me the rhythm
Again and again.
I have learnt to stop and
Cherish life in the silver mirror of the clouds.
Words they help me to arrange the white clouds
In my blue sky.
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. Some of his publications include Trouvaille Review, The Piker Press, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, New York Parrot, Atunis Poetry, Visible Magazine, Litehouse exophonic Magazine, Impspired, EKL Review, The Kathmandu Post, My Republica and Harbinger Asylum. Sushant is the author of the poetry collection “The Poetic Burden and Other Poems” published by Authorspress, New Delhi, India.
Poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal – Too Long June 15, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, New Poets, poems, poetry, Uncategorized.add a comment
Too Long
Could you spare
some sunlight
and blue skies?
This evening
has gone on
for too long.
It is not
even close
to midnight,
but I have
to ask, bring
on the day.
I would not
mind losing
out on sleep.
I do not
need to go
straight to bed.
I am not
in the mood for
stars tonight.
Bring on the
sun burning
hot as hell.
This is the
night you say
goodbye to
me. This is
the night that
ended us.
Bio: Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His latest poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press in 2021. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
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