Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Mary Anna Kruch ------------- poem

Angels in the Evening Woods

Far from the city noise,
I walk the woods,
try to block out a president
who has made life hell
for the least among us --
allowing my imagination to wander
Night approaches; I do not fear the dark.

At twilight, the evening woods
create profound silhouettes,
they rise, a line of stiff, solemn soldiers,
heads touching the navy blue of sunset.
I study how the towering red pines
shelter families of deer who live
beneath their fine-scented branches –
how the trees supply sanctuary
for even the least among them.
It is night, but I cannot close my eyes.

Even during the hunt,
deer, owls, and rabbits
will sleep in the shelter of my soldiers,
angels in the evening woods.
It is night, but I cannot close my eyes.

I think how differently guards
at the border view themselves --
follow orders blindly
strike fear in the hearts
of families with no place to hide in the night.

Where are humanity’s protectors?
Who supports and defends families
 who flee violence and death?
Those families are hunted; they fear the dark.
They may be moved out of sight,
but they cannot be erased.
The woods cannot shelter them.

Where are the protective arms
of civilized duty?
Who supplies sanctuary
for even the least among them?

Even as I walk far from the noise
my eyes remain open.
We must learn
from the angels in the evening woods.

Thursday, October 24, 2019

Editorial by Koon Woon on Contradictions by Mao

If I can remember well, Chairman Mao said many years ago, there are two kinds of contradictions in the world -- Contradiction between the people and contradiction amongst the people.

Sometimes if a murderer is at your front door, you need to stop arguments inside the house and deal with the murderer at the front door first.

Lew Jones paper on Ishtar film theory

Lew Jones Ishtar film theory

Monday, October 21, 2019

Haiku --- Lenora Good

Like thin chocolate
the Rio Grande pours past me
            I thirst.

tango above the water
            tiny scarlet flames.

Thor's hammer bounces
across the clouds—
            puppy shakes in fear.

Why is it easier
to accept my death
            than yours?

Thursday, October 17, 2019

Three Haiku ----- James Roderick Burns

How dear
the small, lit window!
How distant!


Mossy cobbles
flatten and shine under
the wash of tyres


Stillness –
the night-bird’s cry flits
from wall to wall

Saturday, October 12, 2019

Julie A. Dickson --- three new poems

The Brand for Real Change

The brand I wear is for freedom
with elephants roaming wild
of dolphins and whales breeching,
living in family pods at sea.

I can’t abide a captive life for them,
behind logos of SeaWorld or zoos,
circus tents with hook-handed handlers
dishing out abuse among rings of fire.

The brand I wear is for fairness for all
gender identities and persons of color,
to live without fear, to gain and maintain rights,
to move forward instead of losing ground.

I can’t abide the fork-tongues of leaders,
daily barrage of violence and hatred;
people yelling across widening chasms
disregarding beckoning hands of friendship.

The brand I wear is a barren beach,
clean sand with pink shells and pebbles,
free from decaying fish and sharks,
dead sea turtles that ingested debris.

I can’t abide the sight of trash,
plastic washing up on the shore,
sea water a floating raft of death,
collateral damage of human waste.

The brand I wear is for real change
for enough people to care and listen,
to stop environmental destruction,
abandon cruelty, protect the earth.

I can’t abide the human apathy,
silence condoning their behavior
to appear deaf and blind to the chaos;
isn’t it time to wake up and change?

Julie A. Dickson
Exeter, NH


Gray skin sags over a large frame,
skin and bones you might say
I’m not allowed to graze, forage
as nature intends – I wait.
They throw dried grass, sticks.
I amble over to the pile slowly
as my feet are sore and cracked,
pavement hard; it’s been so long
since I felt dirt and grass beneath.
Where are the trees for my itchy hide,
branches to pull on, pungent leaves?
I crave to wander; my eyes close.
I see my herd, ears flapping, rumbles
through the ground, joyous voices,
but when I look again, I am alone -
lonely and penned in, no herd here
just the loud voices of my captors.

Julie A. Dickson
Exeter, NH

Song of Mother Earth   

A wonderland of nature
sings a song of mother earth
plants and animals grow
celebrating every birth

Listen to the river
flowing out to sea
rustle in the tree tops
birds call out to me

Hear the cattle lowing
and dogs up on a hill
footsteps in the forest
beneath the walk until

whispers from the cloudy sky
cool breeze blows my hair
scan the distant mountain range
across lakes and valleys there

Like ancestors from our past
worship moon and father sky
cherish earth our mother
don’t let her beauty pass you by

Sit upon the granite rock
contemplate the far off plains
sing a song of mother earth
in this land where nature reigns

Julie A. Dickson
Exeter, NH

Heather Sager ______________________ poem

Bring the night I, the poet, did walk around that day living like I was actually alive. And the next day, I the poet lived rather like I wa...