Sunday, March 8, 2015

Poetry Today
Trends and Traditions 19
The Spark of the Muse

Compiled and Formatted
by 
Anthony Servante





Introduction:
Yes, I decided to bring back the poetry column. Even brought back Bullwinkle. I'll continue to do the one-on-one critiques of today's poets, but I wanted to continue to follow the "trends and traditions" of today's poetry and share them with my readers. The column will come out on a semi-regular basis, for I find the chains of a monthly publication too grueling to enjoy what I'm doing. Without the deadlines, I can be as capricious as I'd like and jump in with a new column whenever the spark of the muse strikes. So, welcome back, dear readers. Let's get on with the business at hand. 

With us for our 19th column we have Michael H. Hanson, Robert Matejko, and Kimber Joy Acrylic. Michael brings his art-inspired works (along with the paintings as headers) for us. As usual, he deconstructs the mood, hue, and subject of the painting and reconstructs it into prose. Mr. Hanson has submitted three poems for you to enjoy. Robert is new to the column, so bid him welcome. Mr. Matejko provides us with an audio experience that combines word, visuals, and ethereal sound. He is closer to performance artist than poet, but his poetry is spot on and can stand alone on any page. Kimber Joy Acrylic returns with her dynamic poetry. It was her poem BLURRY MIRRORS that nudged me to bring back the column. She is a master at the passionate metaphor and isn't afraid to offend your Romantic sensibilities with the grotesqueries of her poetry. Kim has submitted three poems for us to wallow in, and we thank her. 

Well, the poetry awaits you, but first... 


Our Poets









The Poems

"Chandra Reclining" -- Photograph by Blake Little


Amber Lover
by Michael H. Hanson
Time now glazes my first lover
in the beautiful pure amber
of memory's lustrous cover
and reflective golden glamour.
I've given her a perfection
by casting her in my mind's eye,
a warm, idyllic affection,
young, lovely, and so very spry.
She glows like a distant lantern
burning through the fog of my life,
guiding wishes through a nocturne
with darksome notes from regret's fife.
The sun wakens me from this dream
a poor proxy
to her beauty
and most enduring gaudy gleam.

**********************************************



Photograph: Kawa | photography
Model: Vivien Jost


Away
by Michael H. Hanson
Some days she wants to fade away,
away from every fickle day,
to strip off all of life's dark pain,
and leave through some magic archway.
She needs something that will allay
all of her current hurts and aches,
promising to lead her astray
to soothing rivers and ripe grapes.
She simply wants to go someplace,
to slip into this golden haze,
warming her soul as it sashays
and melts into dusk's amber glaze.
Away, away, to far away
dissolving thus
without a fuss
escaping every yesterday.


***************************




"Hipster Douchebag Profile Pic
-- painting by artist Molly Roberts



EAVESDROPPING ON WINONA
(hipster conversation in Soho coffee shop)
by Michael H. Hanson

A twenty-something couple in deep contemplation at La Colombe. One a fedora hat and vintage Fall jacket, the other, long pleated scarf and faded ebony pea coat. Both sport horned-rim glasses with fake lenses.

They suck down dark coffee with tons of sugar. Posed, they start up a short but memorable conversation.

"Winona Ryder is still hot, even if she is Spock's dead mom."

"But she's betrayed the cause!"

"Because she vapes instead of smokes?"

"Flirty with death is sexy."

"Shoplifting at Saks Fifth is sexier."

"Woulda been cool to see her bite the bullet in Godfather Trois."

"Yeah, but Sofia taking a dirt nap was pretty gnarly."

"Heathers is Ryder's best role."

"Nope. Beetlejuice."

"You know she's a natural blonde and has always dyed her hair black, right?"

"Yeah? I'd still jump her bones."

"Winona forever."

They give my middle-aged backside the stink-eye as I leave my bored waitress a big tip and rush out the front door to catch a late taxi.

Can you guess which one was the girl?

You might be surprised....

**************************************


Lamia by Robert Matejko



Bing Satellites - Tonight I Am The Sun / More


**************





Kimber Joy Acrylic
"Hyperbolic Love Letters"

Your hyperbolic love letters burn orange in the tarnished midnight.

A syringe of lies makes for beautiful goodnight kisses.

Soul mates without souls, masturbate with imaginary genitalia.

Coat hanger birth control, haunts the pseudo Christian house wives in seclusion.

Sweaty with passion, manifestos are written by anorexic feminists with soccer mom hair dos.

Candied with scandals, they lactate deception for small town politics.

Alienation provides in secret Victorian fashion, for ex beauty queen's breakdowns.

Bandwagon of propaganda, spills itself onto the grasses of the greener side.

Temptation swallows children, before you teach of the birds and bees.

Pregnant with trend, you miscarry your phantom snobbery inside your swollen ego.

Regret only your misplaced off colored motives.
©Kim Acrylic 2015






Kimber Joy Acrylic
"Ghost At the Funeral" (Poem)

Sensitive to light, love, and life

I satisfy my night with kisses from your wife.

Inspiration massacres my ingenious addictions

Genocide childhood makes for intense, putrid afflictions.

Dreamy abuses scar my mysterious ills.

Weak with strength, I eat the last of the trendy pills.

Suicide, homicide, where did it all begin?

Kiss me with your own personal war, then please, never again.

Snowy summers clash wildly in my head

I fake your orgasms before you leave me in bed.

Chapter one of your forever ending story

I fall to earth without golden, tattooed glory.

I dance to the tune of broken, rustic wind chimes

I torture for the reasons of love crimes.

My laughter will cease, darkness grows loud

I marry your ghost at the funeral, is your goddess proud?
©Kim Acrylic 2015






Kimber Joy Acrylic
"Blurry Mirrors"

Blurry mirrors bleed away false colored beauty with jagged flaws.

Compulsive liar in the being we call self esteem.

Heartbreaking images echo back to me in a rusty reflection

Synthetic face plastered like an age old mannequin.

Red and white hues despise my sinful, cheating appearance.

I crumble like the pixalated paint I molest my skin with.

Black and white perfection hides your sobbing soul.

Misshapen canvas warps and morphs beneath my truths.

Scarred by broken sentences of an insulting youth, you fall...

Down the rabbit hole of deformed models with obese personalities.

Vacant stares are seen through cheapened angles of camera lenses.

Cartoon shaded hair, eyes, and lips tattooed with vivid agonies

Play dress up with your imaginary body image

Don't forget to kiss off your mask before bed.
©Kim Acrylic 2015

**************

And there you have it, our 19th poetry column. If you wish to submit your poetry for consideration for the 20th column, send two or three of your poems to servanteofdarkness@gmail.com under the heading "Poetry submissions 20". Thank you, and see you again soon. 



2 comments:

  1. Robby here. Thank You for the post. It's nice to be featured, and this is part of a double header for me, as a local literary blog will be posting me there as well :) It looks like I am in fine company in this selection of poets. Much thanks!

    ReplyDelete