A WORLD OF VERSE
A COLLECTION OF
POETRY
by
ASMSG Authors
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This anthology is a collection of poetry. All works herein are included by the express permission of each author. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by: ASMSG Collections Publishing
Written by: ASMSG Authors
Produced by: Christopher Shields, Co-Administrator, ASMSG
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Authors except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Cover Art © 2013 by ASMSG
Cover Art by Regina Puckett
Editors: ASMSG Authors
List of Poets:
Alan Hardy
Andy Szpuk
B.L. Ronan
Bryan Paul
Debra Parmley
Ian Bradley Marshall
James Amoateng
Karena Marie
Laurie Kazmierczak
Lucy Pireel
Murielle Cyr
Ollie Lambert
Oscar Wager II
Peter Watson Jenkins
Regina Puckett
Shannon McRoberts
Steven Harz
Teresa Amehana Garcia
Teresa Joseph Franklin
Yelle Hughes
ALAN HARDY
WALK ON
Often fallen boughs, at a glance,
assume creepy shapes, of bodiless limbs of crouching humans,
half-limbed reptiles hugging the earth,
shock you for an instant with their slimy proneness.
Something lying in undergrowth, lying still.
That split-second brings you face-to-face with a chance encounter.
Meeting of eyes. Living things waiting. Camouflaged.
You step out of your comfort-zone,
open the door at night and walk into darkness,
imagine shadows and terrors, and hidden monsters.
It's the time it takes to fumble a lock or chain
and scamper back inside.
Sometimes, though, you look up and see a face transformed,
a blaze of hatred, a burst of madness.
Then it lasts longer. And your body quakes.
You feel pain. It's a shock which doesn't blink.
You have to face it. And you do. You survive.
The days pass. You return to what you were.
Someone who, in wandering along the path,
meets the gaze of a bewitched piece of wood,
a slap from the primeval past,
its imaginings.
Then you walk on. And on. Until, one day, the real terror comes.
DESERT ISLE
He sat on the beach of his private island,
wrote messages on scraps of paper
once were staring blankly at him,
pushed them through bottles’ narrow necks
into bottles’ ample bodies,
where they, shaken, shifted.
He flung them as far as he could into the ocean's waves,
like a parent gazed after them,
until they were lost in the spray
or the tangle of waves like a twisting-turning cotton-thread,
waited long enough for them not to return.
He would scour the undulating sand shaped by the receding sea,
each day tread its soft moistness for something untoward,
an object or colour which would catch his eye.
Slowly, he gave up,
scuffed the cloying sand at his feet,
saw enough beauty in that, and the foam surging by his side,
licking at him, and then seeping away.
Eventually, he scribbled on his scraps
how he sent out messages on the endless seas,
and, stranded on his isle, received nothing back.
Drawing in draughts of fresh sea-air,
sitting on the sand, the sea's wide sweep before him,
he glanced around for bottles he could stuff with the paper
he made his dreams of.
OLD LADY
Old lady, what has happened to you?
Bullied into aping the giggles you excite,
in that gap-toothed smile the child you were
mischievously reappears,
looks around for a pat on its bent back.
Old lady, where did your wisdom, such as it was, go?
You mix up memories, identities and syntax,
make comments which start and lead nowhere,
stare at us with ablaze scary eyes.
Old lady, how did your body get bent so out of shape?
You shuffle about the floor, grinning
a jogging mix of shame under others' gaze
and child's pride in putting one leg in front of another,
constantly stop, in legs' and brain's loss of manoeuvrability.
Old lady, when and where did your expression go?
Your blank shiny stare can exaggerate into bewilderment,
stuck against a wall looking out at a world you don't recognize,
or becomes child's easy option seeking applause.
Old lady, where did your youth go?
Your strength? Your looks? Your stride? Your firm shoulders?
The only consolation is, with your cheeky smile,
and your brain voiding itself of all matter, and sense,
you couldn't care less.
UNANSWERED DREAMS
On her return they quizz her,
a resumé of each error and good point
brings pangs of pain or pride.
She plummets from joy to despair,
on a roller-coaster of emoting dips and rises
they obsess over.
Pausing, she stares with bright eyes
at their slavish devotion.
They live upon her, and would visit triumphs on her
they could turn back on themselves.
Years ago, they would wait by the window,
yards apart, eyes watching only for her
walking up the path.
Their disappointment affects them deeply,
in their love for her the betrayal she didn't intend hurts,
that it can't turn out as they dreamt,
causes her, occasionally, to cast them her odd looks.
She knows they invest in her
hopes which only break hearts,
all three of them locked in fantasies,
over percentages and marks out of ten,
which sour their time together.
The three observe in each other the origin of their sadness:
their dreams were never answered.
* * * * * * * * * *
ANDY SZPUK
Destiny Will Dance
(From the author’s forthcoming historical novel ‘Fate and Circumstance’)
In these peaks where people join their hearts
We are closer to
Heaven than some
It is where angels gather
And where warriors beat their drums
We are tied to the earth
Rooted to the past
We reach towards a new dawn
Our destiny will dance
Heaven Has A Flower
(From the author’s forthcoming historical novel ‘Fate and Circumstance’)
Like the hardiest flower known to man
You soaked up life’s rainfall and always bloomed
When the soil beneath you turned into sand
You held onto your whole world in your womb
A song was born and hearts came together
The melody of life played around you
A fiddle plays and lingers forever
As your song sticks in time like strong glue
A bullet burst through your skin and drew blood
The music stopped before the chorus line
Joy became sorrow and drowned in the mud
A storm arrived to murder the sunshine
Uprooted from the earth without reason
Heaven has a flower to smile upon
Lost Smile
Sunshine soaks into soil, nature blooms
Life fades upon blades of scrawny grass
In all of this a boy’s smile is lost
Denial of death by the do-as-I-please
Inspectors nod solemnly as they scribble
Never before, never again, never say never?
Genocide arrives to take a million lives, and then more
Oh, the music never plays anymore
No one sings, not even in sorrow
Then comes a hurricane of world war
Heavyweights clash, the earth catches fire
Eastern eyes turn westward and beyond
Spinning away from everything he knows
Naturally, he wishes to find a way home
One day he loses everything, he’s alone
When angels give him wings, he keeps on
So, new lives are carved out, in a wide world
Terrors of war are not so distant memories
Over to the east a curtain is drawn, a sheet of iron
Nebulous dreams never leave him
Every day, he longs to walk a path, the one that leads home
Dirty Martini
The motel was like an ice-cube
Floating in a Dirty Martini
What she said didn’t really matter
It didn’t matter what she didn’t see
The moment was intoxicating
She slid like wet cement
Right into my arms
Underneath the drone of the air vent
All those dollars were mine
To her I was the main attraction
Loaded up with dirty money
And ready for some easy action
Her kiss was hotter than a bullet
And she locked herself onto me
I was like a loaded gun
Waiting to bust free
The smoke from our cigarettes
Floated in a cloud above
She purred like a Chevrolet
My dirty money found her dirty love
* * * * * * * * * *
B.L. RONAN
balance.
the coarseness of the rope
cuts
into the softness
of my feet.
the painful abrasions
center me
as i maneuver
across
the empty expanse.
each purposeful
step
inhalation
leaves me
but a hairsbreadth away
from
falling.
my direction
is aimless.
i am solely focused
on maintaining
this tenuous
balance.
buoyed
by the surrounding air,
i never forget
that one misstep
and what i am
was
could be
will no longer matter.
right here
right now
is my existence.
one tentative
trepidatious
step
at
a
time,
until my foundation
my world
is one again
aligned
on solid ground.
a day
when tears
no longer stream
from my burning eyes.
a day
when my soul
no longer screams
for redemption.
a day
when ever breath
every beat of my heart
warms me
in completeness.
but
until that day,
i will balance
precariously
on this tightrope
and focus
on the threadbare rope
beneath my feet.
who gives this woman…
his visage
in the mirror
mires her
in thoughts
of the past...
a time
of simple pleasures
that seemed
to flutter by
much too fast.
scraped knees
barbecues
fresh cut grass
peach ice cream
steadfast love
fierce protection
and the ability
to dream.
a tear falls
as she takes him in -
the first love
of her life.
now waiting
to hand his little girl,
into the role
of beloved wife.
she turns
and takes
his outstretched hand,
breathing in a moment
of bittersweetness.
together
they take
the final steps,
trying hard
to hold tight
to the falling pieces.
but
what's forged in steel
can never be
broken
nor lost
when it's already
been found.
instead of losing
he's gaining another
who's promised
to love
honor
cherish
yesterday
tomorrow
now.
seeing
the elation
radiating from
her beautiful face,
he remembers
all the stepping stones
that led
to this time
this place.
their eyes catch
and all
is written there -
a love
rooted
deep and strong.
and while the heart
yearns to weep,
he knows
she is happy -
his greatest wish
for her
all along.
live.
the smell of gardenias
is carried on the delicate wind
fragrantly caressing
my sun kissed cheeks.
peaceful warmth
cascades
enfolds
comforts my weary
and bruised heart.
i have been tired
drained
empty
for so very long
and this
new fullness feels
uncomfortable.
the goodness
the possibility
feel fragile
a
nd fleeting.
yet,
i am unable
of stifling the joy
when i hear your voice
see your smile
feel your love.
because of you
hope
is no longer
a dying ember.
i am leery
terrified
of what could be
but here
under these illuminating rays
and surrounded
by these fragrant blooms
i believe.
i once again
have faith
in the world
in compassion
in love.
you
are
my miracle,
my hope,
my center.
my skies
are often filled
with dark and heavy clouds,
but a ray of light
always permeates
the oppressive darkness.
you are the one
who shatters mine -
a beacon
guiding me home.
because of you
i can once more
feel
hope
dream....
but most importantly
...
live.
* * * * * * * * * *
BRYAN PAUL
BLACK CLOUDS
The grass against my back is cold,
The forms in the sky curl and flow,
Just me alone, no hand to hold,
And the vapors turn gray and grow,
To be black mist and cover all,
I feel a pebble hit my cheek,
Not the kiss of raindrops fall,
A rockslide, come to stone the weak.
Buried alive, buried alone,
I feel the rubble pummel hard,
See firelights, hear wind gusts blown,
I’m laid to sleep in the long yard,
No love will wake me from my bed,
my body now burnt, spirit’s torn
Tonight the lightening struck me dead,
And no lady dearest will mourn.
INFANT SEED