Monday, July 29, 2019

The Hermit of Thought


He had no need to isolate himself on a mountain top
Remove himself to a remote and desolate place
It was futile when they would only travel with him
The skulking memories and thoughts in his mind
Distance was no barrier to the worst of them
Walls too permeable with no sense of security
Pills left him hollow inside with no soul
Feeling nothing at all, not even the good
He sensed a partition growing within
A reaction to adapt to the perpetual threat
Since he could not keep the world out
It would keep his private world safe within
A world where there was comfort in unreason
Where feelings were truth, if only for the day
Where happiness was the highest good
Even if it was transient as the morning dew.
-Wayne Olson

BIO: I started writing in my late teens.  I took to writing short stories at first, then poetry later and love the ability to say much with few words.  I have always been on the introverted side, very comfortable in my own space, so writing suited my need for expression. I have had a very rich spiritual life since childhood which is very much part of my nature, so much of what I have gleaned from those experiences finds its way into my writings.  Poems are my ship’s “logbook” on this voyage thru life.


"Hope" by Marc Blue

Four of my friends
could not survive
they hadn't the hope
to keep them alive
one used a truck
three used a rope
they ran out of luck
they ran out of hope
all of them men
all strong and silent
remembering them
their endings so violent
two were alone
two each had wives
if I'd only known
they'd all take their lives
I've considered the same
I've struggled to cope
yet I still remain
I still have some hope


"Rain (V2) By Michael Lee Johnson

In the rain,
this thunder
on his way home
he rebelled.
He a disco dancer,
single Friday night award winner
on the floor.  High school dropout.
He drove off the road edge.
He was drunk, Jack Daniel’s
was his driving instructor.
Jack Daniel bottle left at grave.
It never rains in a dry casket.
Shelter under this roof,
no worries about cops-

BIO: Michael Lee Johnson lived 10 years in Canada during the Vietnam era and is a dual citizen of the United States and Canada.  Today he is a poet, freelance writer, amateur photographer, and small business owner in Itasca, Illinois.  Mr. Johnson published in more than 1042 new publications, his poems have appeared in 38 countries, he edits, publishes 10 poetry sites.  Michael Lee Johnson, has been nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards poetry 2015/1 Best of the Net 2016/2 Best of the Net 2017, 1 Best of the Net 2018. 

The Lynx and the Hare


The lynx knows exactly what it is,
inhabits deep north woods snow,
some place that maps can’t find,
on a hunting foray
for snowshoe hare,
no plotting, merely instinct,
leaving transitive prints
in white wilderness pavements. 

What’s in store is bound to happen,
the hare pawing away at snow
to get at grass shoots,
the lynx stalking
where long shadows take their cue
from the last of the freezing sun,
no time wasted, no excuses,
no test run in the mind,
merely a leap,
a grasp of furry haunches,
a squeeze of talons,
as if to make the point
of predator to prey.

No human lives here.
The balance is immaculately maintained.
I can tell the story
but not as a requirement.


BIO: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Muse, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and the Dunes Review.