Archive for August, 2007


door hinge
hazy pebble tides


cheaply glued


one fickle moon

dense plateaus

Brad Jadwin

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Today’s submission is by the writer/poet/actor Michael Lamanna.

Breathing, Becoming

Remembering, I am
and green
folding fields
silver hills
pond and sky

I stray
grass. Sway

Remember, I am
like sun
massive, stubborn
like breeze
warm, growing
like grass
alive, golden

I stall
ripe. Fall
I am

– Michael Lamanna

And the Why
Why is it one of my favorites? I guess it’s because it makes my heart feel bigger than my chest.


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Today’s submission is by the photographer and poet Rick Wright.

The Song

The song
wouldn’t come out
from under
the soul’s wall

Notes have lept over
some nights

But, it is held
and down

And those notes I heard
brief words
those nights
writing life

Make me think it will.

-Rick Wright

And the why:

I love the poem for its sense of longing and optimism. That we might
see our loved ones become fully conscioius of their own power. The
child about to walk. We watch and root them on.

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Many thanks to Liz for her submission!

Beloved Three


I feel three pairs of eyes
Lurking and gazing out
From three heedful heads
With flowing black locks

Three graceful fingers
Wagging a warning
With three tongues a-ready
To go clucking amok

Six clever feet
Tapping rhythms of caution
A trio in minor
Singing inquiring refrains

I have six arms to hug me
Six hands to hold
Three beautiful angels,
Guardians so bold

Vigilant daughters
Of word and of sound
Their love, a light around me
Their devotion abounds

I still often wonder why
They have chosen me to love
I have three beautiful angels here on Earth
To help the ones above

(Mar 18, 2006)


Hush, my Heart, subside this beating
Fast flim-flamming rhythmic flow
My beloved three tonight are beaming
There they go
And how they go

This night, their lives as pupils gleaning
Vicarious knowledge from tomes long past
Parroted endlessly by tongues unceasing
Will cease at last
Cease at long last

Giddy Pride, swells, overflowing
As each angel mine on petalled stage tread
A hand to the devil, graciously hinting
Of lives ahead
Grand lives ahead

Stop, my Tears, subside thy gath’ring
Tomorrow awaits though Night is over
Outside this hallowed hall, continuing
A Dance Quartet
Forever and ever

(Mar 26, 2006)

And the why:

I’m a teacher and this two-part poem was inspired by three students of mine who supported me and acted as my wise counsels during a particularly difficult school year. The second poem is about their graduation and the hope of continuing friendship. Being a teacher is such a challenge and, often, it’s the students who make the job worthwhile. The end of that schoolyear was bittersweet because we were all leaving: me, to work elsewhere; and them, to go on with their studies. This poem is for those three girls and all my students, my reason for teaching, who cared.

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Submitted by Håkan from Sweden. 

Love Me Like You Never Loved Before 

The presence of you
keeps me up in the night.
I don’t know what to do
when you’re out of my sight.

My life is a bore.
I long for your touch.
I can tell you for sure
that I want you so much.

Love me like you
never loved before.

Come with me.
It’s easy to see
that we both need that thing
like a bird with one wing.

We could fly
and time would pass by.
As we reach for the shore,
I will want you much more.

Love me like you
never loved before.

Skin on skin,
the fire within,
your body is mine,
your look is divine.

The night is still young,
with your name on my tongue,
though nothing me harms,
I will die in your arms.

Love me like you
never loved before.

And the why:

When you can’t have the one that you want, the dream might keep you from going under. And if your dream finally comes true, then there is nothing left to fear. That’s what this poem is about and I would like to share it with millions of dreamers.


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Today’s submission is by Steven (all the way from Australia).

Also check out The Army of Truth and Light Forever, written by him and others (including, in the near future, me).  

Dark Sprite (for LOS)

What dark sprite pursues you down those corridors of ice, that endless, lead to nowhere but the fear within your heart?

Dare you name the creature that has stolen your joy, and insatiable in its fury ever thirsts for more?

We remember you in the golden time, before the fall, when your soul untrammelled flew among the stars.

Please don’t go away; don’t leave us only with memories of your fierce dark mind, the mysteries you create, the paths you tread where none has gone before.

And the why:

Every time I read this poem I bawl my eyes out. The poem is about my daughter and the problems that caused her to leave the family home. Over a number of years her personality changed from being happy, optimistic, outgoing and over-achieving to being the total opposite of those qualities. She began to self-mutilate; she began to have various extremely frightening  delusions (frightening for her as well as for other family members).  Despite psychiatric help and a range of medications, her state of mind has failed to improve. We suspect that she has experienced sexual abuse at some point in her life, but she has always denied that  very strongly. To this day, we don’t know what caused her to change, we don’t know why, we don’t know what, we don’t know where to go from here — and neither do her counselors and psychiatrists.  The “dark sprite” in the poem represents the thing that “stole her joy” and continues to pursue her to this day.


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Two of my short stories: “AC/DC” and “If there is no one to listen, there is no one to say it” are published in the UK lit mag Twisted Tongue Issue 7 and available at http://www.lulu.com/twistedtongue. I think downloads of the PDFs are free or you can buy the whole issue in print.

I love the Brits!

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Thanks to Ceej123 for this lovely submission.

In Search of Faeries

Merry Mill rises higher on the hill,
disappears behind a curtain of green.
Woody arms and fingers inter-lace
curling pointy welcomes,
drawing us in.

Terabithia awaits.
Fireflies light the way down the
fern-kissed path where
tagless, costless dreams
hang on secret trees. The fruits
wrinkle your tongue if
you eat them before the
faeries come.

I know they are hiding
beneath the mushrooms,
tall and wide, lush
sacred umbrellas.
This time we will see them.

Come with me.

And the why:

Above is a poem that I wrote about another passion of mine. I hope to use my poetry to encourage people to once again have an imagination about nature and to seek out a magical connection to it. We need to teach the wonderous, fascinating joy of nature to our children..after all, how can we save what we do not first love?

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Only about 20 more hits to go and then the “You send me a poem/I’ll send you a book” celebration is over. If you wanted in on the free book, I suggest getting a poem and a “why” over to me today. Click on the widget to the right for details.

Thanks to Erez, Michelle, and Jason for “Lucifer,” “The Wintered Soul Among Wisteria,” and “Songbird Still”… and thanks to many others for great comments.

So much more poetry to come…Thanks for visiting. 

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Another submitted poem. Enjoy!

Songbird Still, March 13, 2007

On winter’s eve I carved a lark
From ancient grain
Woven and dark

I carefully emptied its wings
As my mind filled
With strange cold things

On winter’s eve my eyes shut tight
I left low limbs
And fell to flight

I starved my legs, my arms, and core
Inside my body
My organs tore

On winter’s eve the leaves dropped dead
Frail and fleeting
Drifting to bed.

I stared at shock, bathed in dull pain
Still and meek,
The Lark remained.

© 2007 Jason Keath

And the why:
Above is one of my favorite poems of my own. It was written about a night I went into the hospital, came close to death. It brings back some powerful emotions when I read it, but mainly inspires me to be true to myself.


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