Lew Jones paper on Ishtar film theory

Lew Jones Ishtar film theory

Haiku --- Lenora Good

Like thin chocolate

the Rio Grande pours past me

            I thirst.

Dragonflies

tango above the water

            tiny scarlet flames.

Thor's hammer bounces

across the clouds—

            puppy shakes in fear.

Why is it easier

to accept my death

            than yours?

Three Haiku ----- James Roderick Burns

How dear

the small, lit window!

How distant!

*

Mossy cobbles

flatten and shine under

the wash of tyres

*

Stillness –

the night-bird’s cry flits

from wall to wall

Julie A. Dickson --- three new poems

The Brand for Real Change

The brand I wear is for freedom

with elephants roaming wild

of dolphins and whales breeching,

living in family pods at sea.

I can’t abide a captive life for them,

behind logos of SeaWorld or zoos,

circus tents with hook-handed handlers

dishing out abuse among rings of fire.

The brand I wear is for fairness for all

gender identities and persons of color,

to live without fear, to gain and maintain rights,

to move forward instead of losing ground.

I can’t abide the fork-tongues of leaders,

daily barrage of violence and hatred;

people yelling across widening chasms

disregarding beckoning hands of friendship.

The brand I wear is a barren beach,

clean sand with pink shells and pebbles,

free from decaying fish and sharks,

dead sea turtles that ingested debris.

I can’t abide the sight of trash,

plastic washing up on the shore,

sea water a floating raft of death,

collateral damage of human waste.

The brand I wear is for real change

for enough people to care and listen,

to stop environmental destruction,

abandon cruelty, protect the earth.

I can’t abide the human apathy,

silence condoning their behavior

to appear deaf and blind to the chaos;

isn’t it time to wake up and change?

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Gray

Gray skin sags over a large frame,

skin and bones you might say

I’m not allowed to graze, forage

as nature intends – I wait.

They throw dried grass, sticks.

I amble over to the pile slowly

as my feet are sore and cracked,

pavement hard; it’s been so long

since I felt dirt and grass beneath.

Where are the trees for my itchy hide,

branches to pull on, pungent leaves?

I crave to wander; my eyes close.

I see my herd, ears flapping, rumbles

through the ground, joyous voices,

but when I look again, I am alone -

lonely and penned in, no herd here

just the loud voices of my captors.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

Song of Mother Earth   

              

A wonderland of nature

sings a song of mother earth

plants and animals grow

celebrating every birth

Listen to the river

flowing out to sea

rustle in the tree tops

birds call out to me

Hear the cattle lowing

and dogs up on a hill

footsteps in the forest

beneath the walk until

whispers from the cloudy sky

cool breeze blows my hair

scan the distant mountain range

across lakes and valleys there

Like ancestors from our past

worship moon and father sky

cherish earth our mother

don’t let her beauty pass you by

Sit upon the granite rock

contemplate the far off plains

sing a song of mother earth

in this land where nature reigns

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

WIN 20191011 00 55 38 Pro

WIN 20191011 00 55 38 Pro

Chrysanthemum Poetry Anthology 2020

Submit poems to Chrysanthemum Poetry Anthology 2020 by directly sending Word file to:

koonwoon@gmail.com

You can send up to five poems (under 60 lines each). 

There are no required themes, just send the best poems you have now, sort of reluctant to see them go like your child going away to attend college. You and they will be the better for it. 

Payment is one copy upon publication and extra copies at a discount.