Three poems by Matthew Stewart
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Monthly Archives: March 2017
J D DeHart
Fierce Rhetoric
Are we so wrapped
up in the cloud
of how words work
that we don’t stop to listen?
I pause at the end
of the debate and think
who could have been persuaded
by tirade and bluster?
Then find out when I wake
up on election morning.
A world of masses heard
the same words I did and absorbed
a completely different message.
But I’m working at getting better.
Copyright© J D DeHart 2017
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared at Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other places.
..land, or sometimes sea…
land or sometimes sea
can be
territory.
people divided.
people drowned.
sbm.
written after the article,
was so before, now becomes
more evident
![shot_1413015681184[1]](https://reubenwoolley.files.wordpress.com/2017/03/shot_14130156811841.jpg?w=625)
. plant .
i was away a while, since last summer‘s referendum. i have an
exhibition.
it was all leading up, then it was suggested that i wrote about
daffodils.
remember the repair shop? where they fixed the old phone.
she said it needed two hands, so she could not write a note
simultaneously
ˌsɪmlˈteɪnɪəsli/
adverb.
at the same time it resembled the flower. a bit.
it was a difficult day yesterday, the cat died, the boy threw up,
we had the article. yet i decided to come
back
now the exhibition is up. these things.
i have seen some people dressed as daffodils on facebook maybe
related to rugby and/or saint’s days.
she was a midwife.
these things.
sbm.
Listen by Rick Richardson
The night
so quiet like
a loaf of rising bread
or a letter
to the condemned
while the dead trees
of silence spread
their naked limbs
like a willow by the water
someone’s empty bed
listen
all I know
is this universe
is a swarm of stars
and the moon
that ancient stone
burning like a ship
takes my life
on a journey without me
deaf as sleep
cold as the black sea.
.the bear weeps quietly. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
is it today?
yes.
the letter?
yes, the article.
it will all be different?
yes, it has been different quite a while……
will they send me back?
no you may stay here with me, safe.
sad together.
. a change of contents intended.
it came in pink tissue, crumpled. the glass.
she said that i may like it though it was
not good class, did not ring true. i said
i did and imagined an elixir, blue and
deadly poisonous.
it has sat waiting, and being of a pleasant
#mood added the lead soldiers instead.
( i guess those be toxic if sucked steadily)
so here is the glass with the old clock
that chimes wrong and the photo of
my father in the war, behind.
thank you mary. it is your birthday soon,
then mine comes later.
sbm.
That Of Which I Speak by JD DeHart
I would like to speak
of a better time
when collaboration is uplifting,
not pinching, when the heart
is honest and beats
with the brimming content of
a seeking, building mind,
when people are not seen
as wastes of space, but each
person is seen as a blueprint
for a bright promise.
Too Sad To Be Funny by JD DeHart
Everyone knows, she says,
that when a woman wears
more make-up she is seeking
an affair. It’s these kind of
small terrible statements that
make me wonder if the contents
of the mouth speak more of the
person spilling them than the body
at which they are aimed.
This is the handgun wielding,
life besmirching voice I have
heard, with wild claims purporting
to have basis in ancient writ
or recent science. Now I wonder
what each entry says
about the diarist.
Modernist by JD DeHart
the cold cruel edge
of a modern curve,
jagged and smooth
to the same degree
..
I used to think the world
had changed, become
a better place, but listening
to rhetoric these days
..
I’m not so sure anymore.
reubenwoolley 