POETS PLACE
APRIL EDITION
2025
Hello everyone! Just wanna say here that although everything is not beautiful in the land of milk and honey, it’s more like chocolate milk and dark molasses, murky and cloudy. I’m still here trying to see through the muck. Somedays life feels so thick with mucus, crusty around the rim of happiness and sanity. My heart feels so brittle, the blood flow stifled by the river of terror trying desperately to bleed through the packed sand of American values. It’s difficult to breathe somedays with the covers intentionally suffocating my head in the morning, not wanting to look outside of my bed. Psychopathology labels those feelings as situational depression. Webmed says “Symptoms of situational depression include feelings of sadness, hopelessness, frequent crying, difficulty concentrating, loss of interest in normal activities, and anxiety. These symptoms typically arise within three months of experiencing a significant stressor or traumatic event and usually improve within six months after the event has passed.” Bingo, welcome to my new world. The problem is, is that we have close to four years of suffering threats to our American society being disabled by the American administration’s destructive forces. So what happens to me/us??? Will I fall into a state of complete paralyzation? Tumbling down into the abyss of doom and gloom? Staying mentally and physically healthy has become my daily dream state. It’s so hard to reach a state of positivity when surrounded by so much pain, distrust, and criminal behaviors being lauded in the White House. Will this pass? I heard today that HE wants to enact a third term? I knew he would go for that. HE is so predictable. I definitely encourage everyone to start socking away cash. When the walls come tumbling down and the banks are disabled cash will still be of value. Or will the fascists turn our cash into Musk dollars? I am so scared of the losses many will suffer from this fascist regime. I know there is more of us than them. And yes, we will continue to fight the takeover. But until we conquer and beat down the criminals shit will continue to hit the fan.
This month hosts our largest contributions of writers thus far!!! A BIG Thank you to all of you who continue to support our column!! Keep em coming!!! Linda :0)
By Linda Kaye
12/25/2017
Our hearts and hopes are in the sand relinquishing all permanence to the deepening dread of political reality that surrounds us
The sand helps to foil all sounds of disturbed despicable zealots that attempt to capture the attention of sullen souls their minds transfixed by the drones of subterfuge unfiltered and unfettered to a once thriving and respected society
how deep will we fall
capsized
drowning and suffocating, sodomized till we bleed out of every orifice
the right draining societies hearts minds bank accounts and hope for survival
we will see an astonishing rise in depression suicide drug addiction homelessness in those people previously stable who’s lives once mattered to the continuation of modern lower and middle-class society
the foundation of our American heartland will collapse along with the lungs that bred hope for humanity
the country we loved will sink into the sand to decompose and rot
it’s our fate unless we stop the destruction. now
Petitioning the Goddess
For Ellyn Maybe
By Alex S. Johnson
Petitioning the goddess
is never easy
Invoking the muse
who giggles a lot
Can tickle your funny bone to pick with
the current political crisis
Where norms are torn down like a
gentrified prefer bonds trader, shaken not
interred
The devil winds blow sideways
like the map to the stars blew a fuse
and burned a hole all the way to the
China never used
Because memory is not for wimps
which is why drugs
which is why alcohol
which is why extreme sexual practices
which is why self-mutilation of
Various kinds.
Who did it? Because while some may
accuse the butler of all, geezer throbs his
bass balls to the wall riff landscapes
Spreading a psychedelic carpet on the ear of things
Salving the wound ripped from the stuffing of time
and crammed with the Elysian Mystery Hour Of Power Tools
Rippling through beta tested miniature orgasm factories
The little death that wished itself a giant lyre that Orpheus strummed on his off hours
Making cartoon animals do crazed and desperate things.
Alex S. Johnson's writing career was given a huge boost in 2012 when Ellyn Maybe encouraged him to develop The Death Jazz into a complete prose and poetry collection and Richard Modiano, then Executive Director of Beyond Baroque Literary Arts Center, invited him to be a featured speaker. With numerous publications over a 30-year career, including HWA Poetry Showcase III, a dark erotica story in a Penguin Random House anthology, CUT UP!, 13 Mynah Birds, Cease, Cows, The Original Van Gogh's Ear, poeticdiversity, Misfits, L.A. Poetry Place, CUT UP!, and many more. His work has appeared alongside such luminaries as Allen Ginsberg, Charles Bukowski, Joe Hill, Poppy Z. Brite and Ramsey Campbell, and was nominated for a Best of the Net award. Johnson lives in Carmichael, California with his family.
Alone by Ricardo Tomasz
I am alone,
But I am honest in my loneliness.
Ricardo Tomasz is an artist in audio-scapes, photography, painting, collage, video, performance art, Artificial Intelligence Art, and occasionally body hair. He is a creative genius and visionary, it says so on his middle school diploma. He was born and raised in Hungary, to a Spaniard mother, and a Hungarian father. They died when he was 16, but their passing allowed him to tour and study at some of the finest Art Universities in Europe. He came to America, thrusting himself into the art scene. He was in and out, in and out, and in and out of America over several years, until finally settling in Los Angeles as an artist, designer, and occasional human crosswalk sign. He is a valuable contributor to the Greater and Grander Artist collective.
We Cry Out!
By Kassi Crews ©2025
We cry Los Angeles for you
Your lost Angels are distracted by the wealth, fame & greed
The prisms of the dark intents reflect in all facets
Will we finally do away with the silly stagnant life of hate
A political, media, medical, consumer corporate gate
To keep us busy on our toes siding with this group or that
Let’s do away with all that crap
Be blind to gender, color and creed so all humans may succeed
No bias to correct or categories to fill
A trick, a play to keep us under their sill
The cult of compliance to keep us apart separated from our hearts
At any moment we can choose a fresh start
Let’s be free to discuss in our authenticity
Not fearing cancel or death but counsel in multiplicity
As Rodney King stated in 1991
“Can’t we all just get along?”
MKL had a dream so did JFK
killed in their prime still an unsolved crime
But their stories live where the prince of peace rules
Love is the alchemy forging our jewels
Where common sense reigns with the golden rule
As we care for the least of us instead of being cruel
Where collaboration over competition is cool
Unite peacemakers, unify in mass to be free
To live in the land of hope, honey & prosperity!
Kassi Crews is a versatile & accomplished actor with a rich background in film, television, improvisation, stand-up comedy, and theatre. Crews became an industry leader in Hollywood post-production as the Vice President of Digital Jungle where she oversaw the day-to-day operations and served as producer on an endless list of film and television projects. Most recently, Crews lead multiple post-production teams at Fox and Walt Disney Television, overseeing the workflows of all television for FX Networks including “The Americans,” “Fargo” and “Pose” as well as a DI Producer for Apple, Netflix, CBS, CW, Starz & Paramount. Crews has produced and directed a variety of critically acclaimed independent projects, “Broken Memories,” “Heart of Recovery”, “God’s Ears” and “A Better Place” as well as live shows for the theater. She is a member of ATAS, NAB, NAPTE, PROMAX and SAG; holds a Master of Arts from CSU Fullerton and a Bachelor of Arts with Honors from UC Santa Cruz.
Memoirs of the Berlin Wall
3-17- 25
4:23 pm
By Mary Cheung
I am hard and I am cold.
I have survived the seasons,
through the damp of spring and rigid icy cold.
I have seen lives rallying,
against the unyielding harsh thoughts.
And the destruction of freedoms costs.
Bodies thrown against me,
the wet splatter of life's blood dripping,
raining down me and explosions of anarchy and anger.
Sometime in the dead of night I feel a breath,
air flows on me a dark slash of words.
Symbols drawn and hastily spoken dreams on my skin.
Decorating it like a tattoo.
The years come and go and more tattoos decorate my grey skin.
Weathered now, caked with time, grime, tear gas residue.
And Still I stand, tall, hard, unyielding.
Created to bring order? Or to dissipate chaos?
I was born of dictators and bullies, soft at first, shifting, mixed and stirred.
Flooded me with your wet consciousness, let me sit and stew for awhile.
Until your ideals became mine as well.
Then I am united in your cause, ready to do your bidding.
My will is lost, only your cause.
And here I sit,
as the time flows by and the seasons change again and again.
Until finally one day......a crack in my body and bones.
The spirit persevered and was triumph.
And I've never been so happy.
So joyous to be broken and battered and taken apart piece by piece..
to be reborn again.
I divided a world of people.
And whether right or wrong,
my opinion mattered not.
A shaft of light finally steeped in...
Joined by many others,
it was enough to shine through.
To other side..
The one that was forbidden,
The one that was divided.. by me.
And that is no longer my job now.
You felled me with your ideas and thoughts.
With your sweat and tears.
And now..I just sit here as a reminder of how little things like people,
love, and the power of thought's and your will ...
can reduce me to retirement.
And I sit out my days remembering the past.
Of the fighting and the turmoil that I was raised to bring about;
is no more.
My view these days are a flurry of people coming and going.
Laughter and joy.
They go to see, to interact, to touch and be touched by the thoughts and ideas that create art and connect the people that I was raised to keep apart.
I think my view is a better one these days and I reminisce how waiting patiently,
And fighting for your beliefs...
Finally brought about the change.
Mary Cheung is a multi-disciplinary artist. She has been creating art since she was young. Grew up the youngest in a family of eight. She came to America at the age of 2 and grew up in San Francisco. Attended American school during the day and Chinese school at night.
Mary has an AA degree in Fashion Design and a Best Costume Design Award from the NAACP. She often creates costumes for her art narratives and creations. Sometimes building the sets as needed.
Mary was the Producer for the Santa Rosa Spring Festivals 2011 and 2012, which incorporated live performances and festival games.
She produced the EVOLUTION Music and Arts event in 2013.
LUSCIOUS, Music Art, Live Body paint Art Event IN 2014 followed by
OPEN FLOOR IMPROV EXPERIMENT whose purpose was to engage the community, encourage local business growth and artists involvement. Her real passion and drive come from being able to engage the community while bringing hope, healing, joy, and human connection.
It is her goal to be able to continue to do this while making an impact on society’s values and thinking.
“I hope that I can be a role model for others to find their own true voice in life through my art."
raging against the machine
by linda m. crate
i never wanted this
machine,
let alone to be one of
the cogs they find expendable;
i've never understood
why some people's lives
should matter more
than those
of others—
we are all made of stardust,
and we all bleed the
same;
when we die we are all buried
in the same earth—
want to make my life
a beautiful thing, an adventure
worth telling others;
but i feel caught in the maw
of a system trying to rip me apart—
a system that would
rather see me miserable,
overworked, and dead
than happy.
Linda M. Crate (she/her) is a Pennsylvanian writer whose poetry, short stories, articles, and reviews have been published in a myriad of magazines both online and in print. She has twelve published chapbooks, the latest being: Searching Stained Glass Windows For An Answer (Alien Buddha Publishing, December 2022). Linda has four full length poetry collections and a photography collection book. Linda is also the author of the novellas Mates (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2022), Managing Magic (Alien Buddha Press, September 2022), and The Queen's Son (Alien Buddha Publishing, December 2023). Her first short story collection King Quinlin (Alien Buddha Publishing, March 2024) was published this spring. Her debut haiku collection in these ancient veins was published in Spring of 2024 (Alien Buddha Publishing, May 2024). Her latest collection mantle lake (Alien Buddha Publishing, February 2025) is a mix of photography and poetry.
Lastly
By Anna Broome
First came last and lasted
like a sprig of spring
on an early morning
of cursed air.
Longer than expected.
Love hung on a dove’s wing
going nowhere at last. And lastly,
a no man’s horizon
grateful as great-less,
unfolded as the outcasts outlasted
and prevailed.
Anna Broome is a Los Angeles poet who has published in various anthologies and journals including Acts of Light, LA Art News and Spectrum 17. Broome performs for local troupes including Public Works Improvisational Theatre’s Storyphile at venues including Beyond Baroque and Art Share LA. She produces and hosts the Anna Broome Room, a monthly, free-to-the-public live-performance art show for the last ten years at Art Share LA. Broome studied poetry at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington with Pulitzer Prize nominee Michael White. “Women Napping with Animals”, her collaborative project with Ted Meyer, was published in 2014. Her first collection of poetry, “Orthodox Bats”, was published in 2019. Her second collection “Sex Ed: A Prerequisite at Columbine” was published in 2022. Her new collection “An Irregular Bone” is currently under consideration for the Wilder Prize.
Freckled Blues
By Sonny Tristan
What are you gonna do with those eyes?
You gonna stare at things?
Wish things were different?
You gonna try and take peoples’ souls?
What are you gonna do with those eyes?
You gonna curve truths?
Find shapes in stars?
You gonna make us see what you see?
What are you gonna do with those eyes?
You gonna suck me in?
Make a fool?
Fall in?
Love?
Blue
The color of sadness
The color of discipleship
Sonny Tristan started writing poetry when the world shut down. He spent decades artist adjacent, works daily using words, and talks more than he listens. His poetry is published in bathrooms nationwide, mostly on the caulk between the tiles.
Trip
By Anna Mathai
Oh missus, your sheer existence,
it’s so damned
Suspicious,
I bet she’s a b*tch.
It is vicious, though it feels judicious,
It’s our secret mission,
A visceral wish.
I just wanna see you trip,
Ya let’s go burn that f*ckin’ witch,
I just wanna see you trip,
So let’s go burn that f*ckin’
B*tch.
Oh missus, just so ambitious,
I bet the stars answer
all of her wishes.
We’d kick a habit, but I cannot resist,
If there’s bait, I bite it,
It’s a kind of an itch.
I just wanna see you trip,
Ya let’s go burn that f*ckin’ witch,
I just wanna see you trip,
So let’s go burn that f*ckin’
B*tch.
Oh missus, you cannot ditch us,
We’ll be expeditious,
‘Til we hear a rip.
It’s just business, but you taste delicious,
Helps to soothe a sickness,
A pivotal dish.
I just wanna see you trip,
Ya let’s go burn a f*ckin’ witch,
One more turn and then we quit,
Oh let’s all burn the f*ckin’
B*tch.
Oh missus, your sheer existence
We find half-malicious,
I bet you’re a b*tch.
Anna Mathai is an Indian-American multidisciplinary artist based in Los Angeles, California. She frequently uses Venetian plaster and other plasters in her work. Her abstract works reference both the natural world and our internal ‘landscapes’ of emotion, blurring both real and intangible. She often touches on concepts of femininity, rebellion, and otherness, with a touch of mysticality, in her figurative work. By pairing her writing with her visual art practice, Mathai creates an extra dimension in which viewers can experience her art and a loose construct to guide their own internal process of understanding. Mathai was born in the UK, but spent most of her childhood in the rural Deep South, which heavily influenced the concepts she explores in her art. Her work has been awarded, published, and exhibited globally. You can find her at www.byMathai.com or on Instagram @byMathai.
Sunday, March 16, 2205 - West Oakland, CA
By Edward Pollard
Forgive the machine, for it only knows what we tell it to do... only does what we made it to da. only knows what we want it to know,
only knows what we think it can know, only knows what it wants us to think, for it knows only our half of the story, for it can't help what it wants, forgive it for its errata, written by the unknowing, forgive it for its maker who forgot what it used to know.
Which came first: original sin or original purpose? Is there a difference?
Humankind will only understand and seek to establish lasting peace and harmony among its variations when its own existence and ultimate survival are seriously endangered by the non-nego tiable and irreversible priorities of another complex, evolving lifeform that recognizes no apparent connection between its existence and that of the human species. Extinction of one does not imply a threat to the other. This planet we live on, the one we call Earth, only one of nine large bodies caught in gravitational orbits by our much larger, life-giving Sun, does not owe us a living. We came into existence because its existing elements were diverse and plentiful enough to allow us to nurse upon it until we had reached a level of independence, or to believe that we were independent instead of fully dependent. Once we learned to lift off the surface of our life-giving mother, we began to imagine that we could live independently of her, that we might even be welcome to impregnate her ourselves, with our own erections, and with the minuscule seeds of our auto-erotic, large-scale fantasies of planetary (interplanetary) husbandry and polysphery. We imagined that we could be born of one mother, mature to the point at which we could mate with her, and then repeat such mating with any of the other planets within our reach. To this end, we devised complex schemes and technology to assist those of us blinded by this hubris to attempt such hopeless interspecies procreation. All bodies are not equal.
Edward Pollard, Los Angeles native and longtime resident, born 1964, bilingual, child of parents who were children during their country's financial depression. found music, modern and conceptual art, and literature in that order. first used a typewriter to write requests for car brochures in the early '70s, then rediscovered their true purpose through poetry and autobiographical writing. lately, poetry has emerged without much interference on my part.
This is a threat (not a warning) to the fascists
By Alexis Jaimes
Hark!
You cannot stop me
from deciding to pull the comforter over my head & shield myself from the morning sun
You cannot stop me
from shedding tears at random places at random times
You cannot stop me
from loving who I love, kissing who I kiss, wanting what I want
You cannot stop me
from hoping for something better for both you & me
You cannot stop me
from fighting for a future worth fighting for
You will not stop a movement stronger than your hate
Alexis Jaimes, a proud son of Mexican immigrants, is from Santa Ana, CA. He just published his first chapbook through Bottlecap Press, "Corazón Coalesced." In it, he captures the essence of growing up in an immigrant family, painting a vivid portrait of a breaking family, an endeavor to recover one’s culture, and the relentless pursuit of healing. His works have also been previously featured in Polemical Zine, Alegría Magazine, Loud Coffee Press, San Diego Poetry Annual, Moon Tide Press, ¡Pa'lante! and MUSE Literary Journal. He has also been showcased at the acclaimed Fullerton Museum Center. You can purchase his chapbook at bit.ly/CorazonChapbook and follow on IG through @alexjaimes182
Imagine
By Don Kingfisher Campbell
the sky reaching out to you
from clouds blown by wind
far enough to touch your skin
and the sun rising below to
fill your eyes with a yellow band
that turns into an orange haze
finally revealing cosmic ball
that sees nothing you do wrong
or right under its periodic warmth
Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA Antioch University L.A., taught at USC and Occidental College Upward Bound, board member California Poets In The Schools, publisher Four Feathers Press, host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading and workshop series in Pasadena, California. For awards, features, and publication credits, please go to: http://dkc1031.blogspot.com
Introverted
By Jackie Chou
I want to be alone
not amid a crowd
like in a bus
but so alone
that I'm around no one
nothing
except maybe
the dappled shade of a tree
besides my own shadow
so alone
that I am startled by
the occasional passerby
that I walk away
from the opening
and closing of doors
that I shun
even the company
of a lone hummingbird
Jackie Chou (she/her) is a writer from Southern California who has two collections of poetry, The Sorceress and Finding My Heart in Love and Loss, published by cyberwit. Her poem "Formosa" was a finalist in the Stephen A DiBiase Poetry Prize. She also has poems published in Synchronized Chaos, The Ekphrastic Review, Panoply Zine, Alien Buddha Zine, and Spillwords.
Epiphany
By G. Billie Quijano
A palette of palabras
Closure, reflection, renewal
Explosive celestial occurence
Dignity of unforgettable memories
Dreams ignite under Ixchel’s moon
Abyss of grief
Metamorphosis of soul
3rd eye knowing
Corazon discerning
Fear is not a roadmap
Joy on the rise
The nuance of vida
Collage of consciousness
Goddess revolution
I am my first love
I evolve
I desire to be free
I am the architect of my own being
Manifestation of new
The opulence of impending love
Elegance of mysterious distinction
Yearning never lost
Symphony of tremors
Fragrance of allure
Depth at the ready
Magical realism, sublime
Hungry for that touch
Extravagance of passion
Lucious nectar awaits these lips
Caressing that space between my cells
You have my heart
Your wisdom, endless gifts
This journey, taking me to the new where
Only illuminating light
G. Billie Quijano/Hija de East Los, Artista, Chula, Mestiza, Poeta, Provocateur, Renaissance Mujer, Chili Bomba, Veganista, Gitana Cosmica.
Evensong (reflections)
By Dean Okamura
there is a light
crossed darkness,
illuminations,
discoveries, rising
over fears.
sometimes
the night
is not
all darkness.
telling us
to not walk there,
if stumbling blocks
threaten, invite
final misfortune,
but not tonight :
we all can find
ways to overcome
the dreadful
clouds ahead,
a way around
as obstacles lie.
it’s not a race,
not a rush,
just a path
in deep shadows.
Dean Okamura resides in Torrance. He experiments with writing since he retired from engineering.
A TRADER JOE’S SUPERMARKET IN MANHATTAN
By Carl Stilwell aka CaLokie
I saw Walt Whitman at Trader Joe’s the other day. “Good
call,” he said smiling as I placed two five ounce cups
of Greek nonfat blueberry yogurt in my shopping cart.
“Delicious and healthy while only 130 calories.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “My stomach feels so good every
time I eat some and it doesn’t exit my body too hard
like an egg, potato, and cheese burrito nor loose as
chocolate candy bars or a bag of roasted peanuts.”
The Ancient Mariner from Samuel Coleridge’s poem
appeared. “Every year 8 million tons of plastic are dumped
into our oceans,” he said. “Plastics, plastics, every where while albatross chicks with bellies bloated with
plastic bits are dying of starvation.”
Mary Oliver pushed her shopping cart over.
“Did you know,” she said, “during the course of
their lives the albatross, while traveling thousands
of miles on their migratory journeys, spend up
to five years in the skies without touching land?”
“What’s does the mariners rime have to do with us?”
Whitman asked. “This store is too far from the ocean
and the plastic cup will most likely end in a landfill
after it’s thrown away.”
Dorothy Parker behind Mary Oliver said, “Whether thrown away
and ending in a landfill or the Great Pacific Garbage Patch,
it will take centuries for a plastic bottle to decompose
after a few minutes gulp of a soda pop.”
“Thank you for this information, Ms Parker,” Whitman said.
“Obviously, we the consumers of America need to recycle
more and throw away less.”
Edna St. Vincent Millay was shopping with Dorothy Parker
“What good would that do, Walt?” she asked? “Globally we
recycle less than 10% of all the plastic we produce.”
“When I was a kid,” I said, “I’d walk to a grocery store with
an empty quart of milk glass bottle and pay only 10¢ instead of
15¢ if I hadn’t brought the bottle. I don’t understand why they
stopped making glass bottles you can use for deposit today.”
Pablo Neruda hearing us from a refrigerated counter,
dropped a package of Chilean sea bass in his shopping bag
and said, “Es muy facil, companero. By reducing labor costs
which comes with the washing and reusing of glass bottles,
food and soda drink corporations make greater profits
increasing size of landfills and ocean plastic garbage
patches than manufacturing glass bottles which can
be used over and over again.”
Whitman shook his head. “I noticed your sea bass was wrapped
in plastic over a styrofoam rectangle plate, Pablo,”
Emily Dickinson wearing a gray house robe over a striped calico
dress and walking in slippers passed by. “That’s because
they don’t wrap meat in paper any more, Walt.”
Pablo Neruda was about to comment when
Thoreau rolled his cart by, “You mean to tell me
that for nearly 300,000 years we have lived without
plastics and all of a sudden, we can’t live without them.”
Allen Ginsberg walked in Trader Joe’s. “Hey, Walt baby,”
he said grinning!
“Hello, Allen,” Whitman smiled back.
“Do you still hear America singing,” Ginsberg asked?
Carl Stilwell aka CaLokie is a retired teacher who taught for over 30 years in the Los Angeles Unified school District. He was born during the depression in Oklahoma and came to California in 1959 and has lived here ever since. His pen name was inspired by the Joads struggle for survival in The Grapes of Wrath and the songs and life of Woody Guthrie. He has poems published in Altadena Poetry Review, Blue Collar Review, Four Feather’s Press, Lummox, Pearl, Prism, Revolutionary Poets Brigade--Los Angeles, Rise Up, Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal, The Sparring Artists, and TheNewVerse.News.
THE SNOWS OF YESTERYEAR
By David Fewster
O boy! Beyond Baroque Literary Arts Center
is having an event Sunday:
"Shaman's Blues: The Art and Influences Behind
Jim Morrison and the Doors"
Forty-five years ago,
snaggle-toothed junkies on Venice Boardwalk
looking for handouts used to try to impress
fresh-faced boys like me by saying
"Man, have you heard of the Doors? Well, I was
IN JAIL WITH JIM MORRISON!"
And you know what? All those guys are
DEAD NOW
David Fewster is a poet and musician living in Tacoma WA. Some of his current work can be seen on the 4 Feather Press blogspot.
"There is a Sunflower”
By Michelle Y. Smith
Ode to Christopher
His brown coffee
Countenance
Of disk florets
Is framed with maize petals
Cheery and happy-go-lucky
Spirit pollinates
Where he goes
He laughter contagious
His Colgate smile
Blooms in conversation
His body with roots
Of Nigerian American strength
Sprinkled with Melanesian
Native American
& Endo-European soil
Firmly planted for the feet
Evident is the stem
With green vibrant leaves
To shake hands
Arms widen for the best bear hug
You are wonderfully made
You grow and glow
To new heights and horizons
Can be seen for miles and miles
Van Gogh created a painting
There is a Sunflower
And son that is you.
Michelle Y. Smith is a Los Angeleno native and is like Stretch Armstrong, an action figure with many life, love, and laughter roles:
My heart is mother to an autistic son who is my more than my pride and joy. Sister, aunt, grand aunt, cousin, & friend.
My patience is my employment am a CNA and advocate for the developmentally and elderly disabled community.
My drive is published poetry in Love Letters, Acid Verse II, and Just for the People by Los Angeles Poet Society Press; anthologies and zines by DSTLArts; and Four Feathers Press zines and http://saturdayafternoonpoetry.blogspot.com. My poem, "There is a Sunflower" published in June was nominated by the Four Feathers Press PDF/Print Publication Awards.
Discovering My Life Beneath the Ashes
By Beth Baird
Time is a wildfire
Burned away the years
A pyre of memoirs fueled the blaze
Flames so high they touched the heavens
When the blaze ceases
Embers turn cold
I will go to reclaim what is left beneath the ashes
Bask in the light with my memories
….. My life gems
Crystalized by fire
Beth Baird poet, songwriter, musician, singer, writer, and actress. Her poetry book, Love & Other Myths, was released on the day her house was destroyed in the Eaton Fire. The book’s last poem was written in 2020 and eerily prophesied the loss of her house. Her poetry appears in Altadena Poetry Review, Altadena Literary Review, We Are Here: Village Poets Anthology, Spectrum Publishing, On Sunday the Danube Flows (Serbian Writer’s Association). Beth read at the 2018 International Writer’s Meeting in Belgrade and toured throughout Serbia. She was a 2021 Pushcart Prize Nominee
This Universe
Poem by Marieta Maglas
In this enigmatic universe, the perceptions is
like a vivid canvas carved upon the retina;
a dance of colors; reflections of the thought.
The stars’ songs whirl like the symphonic
notes; recurrence, rumination, reverberation.
This cosmos seems to be immutable.
A green comet looks like a gargantuan
emerald misplaced within the welkin;
lifeless; becoming wishy-washy; A green
comet doesn’t hold life; only glycine.
Life flows through the leaves; pulse within
the petals of a bloom. It is ebullient in this
well-thought-out created world, which is full
of anguish and many calaboose cells; farewells.
All thoughts glimmer like the far-off stars or
contract like the black holes but only up to a
certain point. All musings spring forward from
the well of the Sacred Insight; a surreal painting
upon the texture of our minds; I love this
universe holding the sacrosanct truths.
Marieta Maglas resides in France, where she pursues dual careers as a poet and a doctor. The MockingOwl, Roost, Lothlorien Journal, Verse-Virtual, Masticadores Canada, Silver Birch Press, Kingfisher Poetry, Dashboard Horus, Coin-Operated Press, Mayari Literature, Synchronized Chaos,Al-Khemia Poetica, PentaCat Press, Journal of the Akita International Haiku Network, and others published her poems in anthologies like Near Kin: A Collection of Words and Art Inspired by Octavia Estelle Butler, The Cardinal Anthology Vol. 3, and Ain’t no Deadbeats Around Here. She is the author of the poetry book entitled Cubic Words.
Thank you for joining us! We will continue to host writers and poets of all genres.
Please submit your written work to: lindakayepoetry@icloud.com
and include a short bio
Linda Kaye writes poetry, curates poetry, produces films, spoken word and art events and produces a poetry column POETS PLACE for the online publication LAARTNEWS throughout the Los Angeles area.
Linda’s poetry events have included several summer poetry salons, and shows at the Align Gallery, 50/50 Gallery, Gold Haus Gallery, Ave 50 Gallery and Rock Rose Gallery in Highland Park, The Manifesto Café in Hermon, Pilates and Arts studio in Echo Park, and Native Boutique, Zweet Café in Eagle Rock, The Los Angeles Makery in Little Tokyo. And at the Neutra Institute Gallery and Museum in Silverlake. Her first short documentary film “BORDER POETS” was a socially and politically inspired event with poets and musicians filmed at the border wall near Tecate, Mexico on the Jacumba, Ca. side of the US. The film co-produced by MUD productions is available for viewing on her website and on youtube. https://youtu.be/5Te4-dlhxco
Her rap music video project in collaboration with Mary Cheung, “ERACE-ISM” can also be seen on youtube. https://youtu.be/NfrbveNUBgg This video was accepted into the Ontario Museum of History & Art show “We the People” Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. February 2- April 16, 2023. So honored!!
And… February 19, 2022, she debuted her staged poetry production of “20 Years Left” at the historic Ebell Club in Highland Park! Two sold out shows with 2 standing ovations!! Check out the links to reviews and the video!
https://thehollywoodtimes.today/20-years-left-new-show-performance-poetry-music/
20 Years Left youtube live stream 2/19/22
Linda Kaye is a native Angeleno who grew up in the San Fernando Valley. She claims to be both a first-generation Valley Girl, and The Original Hipster. Educated at Antioch University and Cal State Long Beach in psychology and social work. Linda, now retired from medical social work, was working for her last seven years of employment as a psychotherapist and licensed clinical supervisor for an out patient mental health clinic. She was a licensed medical social worker for 30+ years working on the front line of healthcare, a private consultant for Physicians Aid Association, and for skilled nursing facilities throughout California and Arizona. She was also an adjunct assistant professor at the USC Suzanne Dworak-Peck School of Social Work. Oh yeah.
Twitter/Instagram: lindakayepoetry
http://voyagela.com/interview/daily-inspiration-meet-linda-kaye/https://
shoutoutla.com/meet-linda-kaye-poet-poetry-and-theatrical-producer-filmmaker/