Denny E. Marshall- Art

JD DeHart- Three Poems

Human Spoon

 

Resting her head, high above

other trappings of ancient and future

cultures, the carving peers at me,

peels at me,

resembles me and does not.

Asks my name without asking.

A face I have seen before.

Ebony, eyes streaking down, mouth

torn, body sloping into a shovel,

never planted, always digging,

now cast aside with other wares.

Some neighbors:  An old house once

loved, now tiny, shrunk down; elegant

uniforms and umbrellas filed under U,

so delicate in form they could never

be used by our planet’s hands,

as if our ancestors were the ants.

I could attempt to buy her freedom,

lift her from this dust, but the price tag

is far above what I am able to pay,

the look of the shop owner declaring

No other deals are to be made today.

 

Ever Beach

 

Stretched and angular,

feet and hands can feel the beginning

of time, a monkish creature, sitting

in robes that do not seem to touch

earth, an expression that suggests,

Forget your television dreams, your

useless celluloid gods whose names

and titles you collect on the shelves

of your mind, leave behind scrawled

signatures, the many images you

have stowed away, and watch as my

hand stretches to the time of pharaohs

(and even before)

making curls in the dust of time,

forming loops in the beach of ever

when creatures first loped, the glanced

up at the overshadowing sky.

Monk being whose paper-thin face promises

answers to questions I don’t even know.

 

The Snow-Beast

You can still see him hanging out

after hours - soliciting, they call it.

The police come and addle him.

When the scientists first found him, 

everyone

was excited and clamored around,

the photographs, movie of the week,

the book deals, the crying faces, 

streaming tears:  I never thought

I would see anything like this in my 

life-time.

Then interest fell.  The books stopped

selling.  The movie of the week was 

extended into a television series deal,

eventually cancelled.

Now he just shuffles around,

hits on women, begs for bags of chips,

and wonders why

he ever made his presence known.

 

 

 JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available on Amazon.

 

 

Yuan Changming- Three Poems

Science Story: A Parallel Poem

I kayaked out of the bay on a Saturday evening

And was sucked there into a blue twirling ring

When I was nailed firm at the centre of a light stream

A pink snow falls though I wish to rise like the steam

My consciousness dissolves into heavenly waters

And I become present everywhere in the universe

I travelled afar to collect all my selves and assemble them together

And here I return to this moment, finding my old self a total stranger

Warnings from UFOs

1/ God is nobody

But a superman

Who has come among us

From an other civilization

That may have gone astray

In a different space of time

2/ The human face

On the Mars is meant

To tell that we have

Detracted ourselves

To see it crying afar

Beyond our own world

3/ Hollow as is, the moon

Is an alarm clock

Hanged closest to us, yet

It will never ring

If we fail to set it

At the right time

Humans & Nuclei

just like two nuclei

moving closer together

whose mutual electrostatic potential energy

becomes larger, more positive

yin and yang always try

to reach a higher balance

as they join each other

at a shaded corner

in a rented room

on a spinning disc, even

in a whole universe

Yuan Changming, 8-time Pushcart nominee and author of 5 chapbooks (including Kinship [2015] and The Origin of Letters [2015]), is the most widely published poetry author who speaks Chinese but writes English. Growing up in a remote village, Yuan began to learn the English alphabet at 19 and published monographs on translation before moving to Canada. With a PhD in English, Yuan currently co-edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver and, since mid-2005, has had poetry appearing  in 1049 literary journals/anthologies across 34 countries, including Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Cincinnati Review and Threepenny Review.

 

Jennifer Jones- Three Alien Haiku

a crashed UFO found

by a dazed cow in

the farmer’s field

alien soup:

crushed eyeballs

human heart

at the crash site

young alien children

find a human body

Jennifer Jones has haiku published in Dead Snakes

 

 

John Pursch- A Poem

Aboard the Spaceship Blonderbust

Emerging ecstatic and a bit bedraggled

from untold years of solid submersible

captivity at the manacled hands of

chronically priapistic cardboard Coptics,

Lola did her level best to suppress a titter,

stepped aboard the Spaceship Blonderbust

with innate aplomb, grabbed the xylophone,

and ripped into Baited Oven’s

Tenth timpani corset,

popping bubonic buttons,

gravitational exhaust blooming

from Shiny Cistern’s bucolic seedbed

clear acrostic rank accelerando

playpen cook-alike contests,

filially settling in Bat Rack 26

for the pliable duration of

duodenal diurnal duodecimal

dew point’s dodecahedral

dockyard dunce cap

premonition overwhelm.

“Hickory, tick off the sold and soldered

seepage of soldiers seized in payday tirades

of Dirty Ear’s Whores und maypole heaven

slum ink err bobble ably chimp possible

oven chew alley tees scrolled sebaceously

down dipstick shin splint leggy bruise net

hectare chowder cuticle evasion cod quarters,”

she rattled off to entry won whittling earshot,

flipping troweled all ewe minima,

what were sow cheerfully deranged in

hat rack pseudopodal genome viral paucity.

Renal Poseur,

flamed fur his manly maundy

Nautical Blasé Bull Klieg records

(sins occluding chesty bout savory

sigh land hopping hypocritical

junction pheasant when cooed

sever witch to imagine;

ink colluding bald-thyme hits,

groins, bitten has-beens,

gams gamboled asway from,

micturation pensive stints,

dented gin shards,

gimpy cauterized achoos,

amber abutments,

spit-and-thumb loin drives

unto trebled ploys,

strychnine trike louts sent spackling

in quinine bubbled cheddar,

sullied paralytic jamborees

behind enema spines,

enigmatic turd stripe

skulls by bluesy ballerinas

in brachial regression canopies,

frosted philanderers hosed

to soundly ferocious citywide

gum slick salamander quoits,

usurers of quintessentially

surreptitious munchy

marrow hollows,

corncob urethritis fellers

of the turtled clime,

bare nut wicket collapse

on kneepad stairwell

door lock mumbling podiatry,

and iconoclastic putting screams

shirked crowned the swirling

Coriolis farce by toiling

forked horse mechanics

in chromium reproval settees

coned clear from moody rental

parricide to messy consequential

vote retouching garters shy above

a barnyard sobbing centaur);

whale, ewe con seize jest wad a pane

indie proverb eel drainage Dutch

cooped sold Poseur musty bleat

fir awl pretty portly sorties,

seven dose hooter knot sew

steeply revolved in hiss chaise

(actuarially caissons heft wee guano

pee handy wear closed two arc urine).

Putt tease czar deke hinds

shove tinklings sever Ewoks needles

to clump to crippled creaks switch

heft antsy one wands together

sandy shelf receptive ear

quasi-lateral glance sat wad’s

scum only cloned asp raw crest

in muddled dais Americon satiety.

Thus ran Lola’s sidestream thoughts,

culled from millions of lobotic threads

spread huffing and prostrate

in cauterized feline domiciles

accursed the interred galactic fabric

of spatiotemporal vacuity,

or wad remained of the sloping

cuneiform versification of conned sequins,

hambone philharmonic clone tests,

minted angular genomic protection brackets,

calligraphic shellfish preponderance

propinquity nun with standing waveform

maiden ironic isthmus panel

peekaboo encomia comas.

Machinery canned a retinue

of surveyed retinal cucumber parts

at shoveling peens sparely teeming

with autocratic snores,

pillbox fantail carriage peels,

and homey tranquilizer consort hunks

of neutered zonal mist reward

pheromone entrustment dust.

“I’m crying to slake

summed shed whey hear,

joust drying beauty Thoreau,”

Lola sex splayed entropically

dried stanchion.

“Aft awning eye slaved

in wooden wanderlust

oar silvered furious slant hover

forlorn fodder hooter on shaven,

ballyhooed pea my Thames,”

she squiggly crammed huff derails,

bespectacled hound sagging

tourist height deal ort’s player.

Filially, Renal Poseur

caught awhirl in hedgerow:

“Pleas come tinea, dire Lulu;

hid wood bleat scum peat

lea quint holler apple due

crust slop indie mantel

hover lout’s pregnant layer!”

Have course he waste cure act,

sole Ole curried dong:

“… thigh skink dumb scum,

tie wheel bed on,

unearthed ass skittish sin seven.”

Hare she broken dawned,

sex clamoring,

“High canned cow true whippet!

Hit’s chest two blast furnace!”

spluttering a scallion

or tensive sheltered steer,

liquidity on flailed display,

drenching mangy

a trenching goat swearer,

sleeping awl putt dose

clapped in thigh-alai

sweaters mired in

quagmire sound.

Maundy hove tea long hookers

droned due teeth indie

ensuring detrital weave,

hay peripatetic tsunami,

booty shore.

Denny E. Marshall- Three Poems

A Sun Behind The Sun

There are list none can see
Walking circles in the dark sky
Hunts all the words when we talk
A transparent presence slipping by

A sun behind the sun
Oh, light so bright
Cannot see the other one
A sun behind a sun
Not hidden in darkness
Hidden by light

Opening eyes do not see
Vast clouds obscure the true
The light hides on a dark path
Someone else is looking for you

A sun behind the sun
Oh, light so full
Cannot see the other one
A sun behind a sun
Not hidden in darkness
Hidden by light

There are lists none can see
Walking circles in the dark sky
Hunts the words when we talk
Transparent presence slipping by
Open eyes do not see
Vast clouds obscure some of the true
Light hides on a dark path
Someone else is looking for you


Guard #51

The creature shot him with a laser gun
Taps the trigger, as the guard walked forward
A cold frozen feeling, bright as the sun

Imprisoned in "Area 51"
The alien escaped from "R–Block Ward"
The creature shot him with a laser gun

Secrets need protected the deed is done
The camp cold and intense, turning awkward
A cold frozen feeling, bright as the sun

Strange and a stranger, lost and on the run
Gambled for freedom, and its sweet reward
The creature shot him with a laser gun

With automatics, the madness begun
Then the dying alien falls backwards
A cold frozen feeling, bright as the sun

The guard learned the weapon was jammed on stun
When he awoke some time afterwards
The creature shot him with a laser gun
A cold frozen feeling, bright as the sun


Rugged Mountain Terrain

They crashed into rugged mountain terrain
In a strange faraway world, late at night
The entire crew dead, he is in pain

The storms, the lightning, the wind, & the rain
The ship’s controls hit by a flashing light
They crashed into rugged mountain terrain

Buried the crew, the Captain, Noll's, and Cain
Watching them burn slowly as flames ignite
The entire crew dead, he is in pain

He knew he had to hide the damaged plane
To cover it up forever from sight
They crashed into rugged mountain terrain

Radio broke, except to entertain
Though other equipment survived the flight
The entire crew dead, he is in pain

He kept a low profile, and shows restrain
He finds out "Earth" is the name of his plight
They crashed into rugged mountain terrain
The entire crew dead, he is in pain

Ayaz Daryl Nielsen- Three Poems

widowed spacefarer

singing a gospel song as she

hugs his ejection pod

the sway

of her antennae

as we shower

evening playground

puppies, kids and 'bots

the streetlight's glow

ayaz daryl nielsen, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/125+ issues), homes for poems include Lilliput Review, SCIFAIKUEST, Dead Snakes, Shamrock, Kind of a Hurricane, and!  online at:  bear creek haiku  poetry, poems and info