Daily Archives: April 10, 2019

Black Hole Haiku (4/10/2019), by Clara B. Jones

I am not a silent poet

for Shep Doeleman* & Dimitrios Psaltis*

Nobel in your hands,
Isn’t it? Men win again—
History written.

*Event Horizon Telescope Project

Clara B. Jones is a Knowledge Worker practicing in Silver Spring, MD (USA). Among other works, she is author of, Poems for Rachel Dolezal, published in January 2019 by GaussPDF.
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Hush, Child, by Christy Bailey

I am not a silent poet

They — the ubiquitous, omnipresent they

Told me
Loudly, and in no uncertain terms
That I was not sad.
That I was better off, really
(so much better off, honey, really).

They — the all-knowing, all-seeing they

Told me
Frequently, so that I wouldn’t (couldn’t ever) forget
That I was chosen.
That it was for the best, really
(so much better off, don’t be ungrateful, really).

They — the powers-that-be they

Told me
How I felt

How I didn’t feel
How I was allowed to feel
(I’m better off, I won’t be ungrateful, really.)

Told me.

But I am no longer a child
And I will no longer be hushed
I will whisper it into the dark
Until someday

Will tell


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Dear Crystal, by Chaucer Cameron

I am not a silent poet

I know you think you’re free to come and go.
To one day be so high, you touch stars.
You think you’re free, to spend some days
so low you hardly breathe, while blood
and broken bones, putrefy beneath your bed.
Ease you say, comes quick –
but only when you stick the needle in.
I know you think you’re free to stand
on that street corner and remain intact-
in fact, I think I’m free to tell you
that you may survive: just.

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… from a knife wound, by Chaucer Cameron

I am not a silent poet

What bunny can I buy
the chocolate kind.
How can I post it flat
I’d have to break it into pieces.
Is milk chocolate by the sweets
or near the till.
Do they still sell rubber bands
and balls of string.
Where can I find plain packaging.
Someone’s moved the tea again
I swore I saw it, yesterday.
How can I post a bunny
flat. Where did I put
my purse, my hat
who is that man
he’s waving.
Is he my son
no he’s in Oz.
Oh I don’t know
how time moves on.
My watch has stopped
yes he’s in Oz. I think
I’ve mentioned this before.
It’s strange, this feeling
strange, a floppy sort of feeling
…………………………….like I’m bleeding …


Chaucer Cameron is a poet living in Wiltshire; she is the creator of Wild Whispers, 2018 an International Poetry Project. She has co-edited three collections of Poetry…

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