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Poetry in order - poetry

Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi


Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0 2005These poems read to me like poetry versions of flash fiction. Now, I like flash fiction very much, but I like the more fabulistic kind.

Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Crime novel Mystery Novel


Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had on paper "The world's direct poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His delighted declaration evoking shivers in my anxious teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.

Tsunami Day


A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were moving out the customs of their land. When out of the blue exclusive of warning, Look after Character came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.

Caught in the Arms of ED


YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY Acquaintances AND MY FOOD PLANMY Psychoanalyst AND MY THOUGHTSMY Apply AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN Amazing HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I Attention WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I Must DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE Close I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY Dilution AND CONFIDENCEAS ED Continually KNEW I WOULDI AM Trailing INCHES About MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE Declining OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.

Kafka Re-Trial


Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a gray alien craft, And at the same time as he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an minute one off fine At a cash distributor of his choice And they are read-through all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course of action they find that he is not, They come across he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and basically cannot be, He is not programmed and he is not ranked He is absolutely not like you and me.

Tsunami -a Poem Dyed-in-the-wool To Help Aid and Awareness and Advance Expectations Harmony. Make Peace Not War


Real Power.One Tsunami, and all our armies, Seem belittled by their wars, What Animals fled, and tribesmen read, Finally Arrives with crushing roar, Wholesale slaughter, chastely by water, Makes us seem an irrelevance, Concepts of power, adjust by the hour, Faced with original elements.

Passion and Poetry, and Life


Ironically, the passion that can deactivate the disgust for difficulties depends on the attempt to overcome these difficulties. The irony resides in the circularity of this attitude - which applies to all areas of activity, together with poetry: One must make the endeavor to overcome difficulties to do sensation and feel capable, and one needs this achievement and atmosphere to have a passion for building this effort.

The Power of Drinking Disorders


I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see.

Writing Innovative Poetry


Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that decent literary journals publish, entails conscious faithfully what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem be supposed to be evocative, skillful, and cohesive, but already attempting to hone these attributes, a budding poet ought to be clued-up of the a range of forms and attributes of contemporary poetry.

Looking Out the Rear Window


The funeral rite concluded With the preacher shaking hands, Offering words of comfort I didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forth And summoned pallbearers' four.

The Valley Of Pain


We were exiled from the Plot of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain.

Publishing Your Poetry


If you are critical about considering your work in print by highly regarded publishers, there are a few points you be supposed to consider. Initially and most obviously, you need to affect if you have poetry worth publishing.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Chat of How Do I Love Thee?


"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was in black and white in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also posh Limerick XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese.

Banana Republic


Like a cat I slumber, delightfully unencumbered, Through eighty per cent of my prearranged span, Occasionally awoken, when conflict is spoken, And I cook up a further cunning five year plan, Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned, So I rented from the French and Robespierre, Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw, And let my all equal Citizens appear, Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime, For there is a different determination looming, I have to arrive on the scene sincere, for part of this advent year, And declare all that the whole thing is booming, Never mind austere quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters, And told them which party let them stay, Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed all and sundry of note, You never know what might ensue on the day.So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride, And allow my associates to hear my blessed voice, And roll out the charade, put on the facade, And even make deem they have a choice, Next time about the crown, will be firmed underground, House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history, With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on, Yes, then there will only ever be me, Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do, And fill positions with those that oil my palm, As for civil unrest, there is at all times house arrest, Or clandestine caging for those that mean me harm.

THe Monster Mash, A Churchyard SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)


The Monster Mash The Cemetery SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I assume you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you.It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight.

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