Hero / Maureen Dance

Hero

By the light of the refinery
In shades of light and dark
With burning youth still in his veins
The vision of a man

A lifetime filled with trials
From which his passion came
In search to find the answers
He couldn't find at home.

~~
1986

Maureen Dance
Ontario, Canada

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

Who Was Here First? / David George

Who Was Here First?

First of all it was the moa
and after them the mighty toa
of Rapuwai and of Waitaha
strong amongst the hills so maha. 

The settlers brought the hipi
while the Maori dined on pipi; 
the miners tore out the maunga
too flat out to seek their taanga.

Seek again the hills so tapu
for every clan and hapu
seeking out your own maarama –
build a brand new Hiruhaarama.

---
R a w i r i.


moa - huge flightless bird.
toa - warrior
Rapuwai, Waitaha - early tribes
maha - many
hipi - sheep
pipi - shell fish
maunga - mountains
taanga - identity
tapu - sacred
hapu - clan
maarama - understanding
Hiruharaama - Jerusalem
Rawiri - David

David George 
Te Waipounamu [South Island],  New Zealand.

David George on usenet:
https://groups.google.ca/groups/profile?hl=en&show=more&enc_user=2WBD3xIAAADr7jixqIpvtKJrWaX65Czi8rhlH0Pnl47z4AZhN98BFg&group=us.arts.poetry

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

White Sands Meet the Blue/Green Sea / Jeanne Ames

White Sands Meet the Blue/Green Sea

I want to go where the blue/green waters flow
Under cloudless sunny skies, and warm winds blow,

Where white sands rush to meet caressing waves,
Crystal waters wed virgin sands in cathedral caves,

Palm trees look down to gaze into a turquoise sea;
There love is ripe, and Pandora’s Box has no key.

Brightly colored birds soar overhead calling to us,
Terrain dark with ferns under forests green and lush,

Waterfalls pour over rocky cliffs into mirror-like pools
Where bright colored flowers float sparkling like jewels.

Only in my dreams have I run on the white sands
That separate tepid seas from sun soaked lands.

I want to sail away to this paradise of my dreams.
Maybe my dreamland is not as far away as it seems,

One day I might reach this land that beckons me
Where the white sands meet the blue/green sea.

~~
Jeanne Ames (Kitten)
Oregon, U.S.A.

Jeanne Ames on "Poets":
http://groups.google.ca/groups/profile?hl=en&enc_user=F9AAvhUAAAAhWowkGOj2WBWD4CSVVVatM2QSjOpuh1pnvFAOUlylOg

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

Maui '70 / Matt Erwin

Maui '70

The full moon maniacal,
flecks of purple haze strato-casting,
slate cloud ready to rain, a mind malaised,
disinterested; a feckless fanatic
feeding off floundering dreams,
realizing the impossible, impassable
scope of a fading dusk.

When Hendrix drizzled, we,
90% water, turned to flowing tide
under glowing rock and rolled
by unknowing Kahuna Sentries guarding
a sacred lava now shot up
into a Star Spangled Spectacle,
and out the Haleakala.

The ancient dormant crater crested
multicolored leaflets upon the throng:

You can have them all but this one.

~~
Matt Erwin
Arizona, U.S.A.

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

Haiku & Triolet / R.S. Mallari

   

sun being born
between two cliffs
noon shall come

Transcend

As I bid farewell to the yellow sun
I let the beach’s sand slip through my hand
With memories of the summer and its fun
As I bid farewell to the yellow sun
Glimpsed on the horizon, trees turn to brown
The leaves fall and rest on the solemn land
As I bid farewell to the yellow sun
I let the beach’s sand slip through my hand

~~
R.S. Mallari
Philippines

Poems about Life and Love:
http://www.poemslifelove.com/

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

Sonny Rollins

 
Sonny Rollins

[Read archived copy]

Principia Poetica / Obsidian Eagle

 
Principia Poetica

Poetry lacking piquancy is like a story without conflict: boring.

Prosody acts like a mirror, which reflects the soul of its reader
so the less that people understand themselves
the less they will understand this inner dimension of poetics.

The best poems touch upon powerful, universal themes
tapped from our collective unconscious;
themes that transcend these tautologies.

Some pieces are far greater than the sum of their words.

Whereas Poets are mere conduits,
trance-channelers reveling in ecstasy;
graced by a muse's embrace.

--
Obsidian Eagle (Itzquauhtli)

Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar
https://www.obsidianeagle.com/

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]