Daily Archives: March 28, 2015

The Boy by Jude Cowan Montague

I am not a silent poet

Tanzania, Dar Es Salaam

He reads the chalked-up list; ‘banana tree’,
‘coconut’ and ‘flower’. Then he smiles.
He’s ten, so he’s the oldest in this class.

I wouldn’t have believed that once. But then,
one day when he was walking with his friend,
wearing his hat to keep the sun away

suddenly a giant grabbed his cap
to cover my lad’s face so he was blind
and could not dodge the blade that chopped his arm.

My son ran to the town to save his flesh.
The myth says spells are cast from body parts.
These rural paths twist traps for boys like him.

A thousand times a thousand times, and more
I’m happy for him to be safe at school.
If he had stayed with me he would be lost.

I miss his smile. He should be here with us.
But when he visits home, what food we make!

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Broken Prayer by Colin Dardis

I am not a silent poet

Jesus, I have knelt under the apple knee
and tasted the serpent’s poison,
but a man may pray for antidote
with mouth and mind and heart and hands
open in sweet sustaining supplication;
bleed for me Jesus, and let me taste sanctuary in your blood,
shelter from the rampaging hordes
of crazies drugging the streets with their diatribes,
crazies worshipping their golden bombs
and silver Kalashnikovs aiming at the hearts
of every good, kind, sane person out there.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, sweet Lord Jesus,
I have lost count of how many times I have forsaken you,
distracted from my calculations
by whore-shaped sin, blubbering breasts
offering barbed wire teats to suckle upon,
lilting, riving torsos across the streets
promising perhaps the shallowest of gratifications
as they toss and discard lovers like tissues;
and I became a whore myself,
whoring to the power of fiscal pleasure,
unemotional security kept in vaults…

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what love is by Darius Molark

I am not a silent poet

there be good and cool
christians too look
at me i am one with my
muslim and hindu brothers
we be spilling spiritual
gold sometimes not though
i be caught in dreams
deep unimaginable sisters
too and i don’t know
what i got ignore
this willowing of the
peak get coal dust queen
victoria that why your
children so black africkaner
you got diamonds down there
send skinny black men
months away from they families
hanging naked on a
rope in a deep cavern
the reason is always
extant and you must put
the book back then on
the library shelf coded by
google to be lifted with
one finger from my keyboard
wait perhaps look there
is the door you may leave
now i need you know more
that is what then love

look about you there is nothing left
even sky eagle says good-bye

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