POETS PLACE
October edition 2021
Hello writers and readers!! Here we are with another edition of Poets Place. Truly a blessing. It’s a place where you can pretty much say whatever is on your mind. Your profound words continue to fuel our souls, and quench our thirsty desires for adventures into the arenas we are most curious to explore and to devour. Word by word.
As a relatively new writer to this forum, I am learning from all our contributors how a well-written piece should flow, spark interest, send prolific messages and carry us with you on your journey. It takes a lot of practice and a perseverance to challenge yourself daily. Not only to write down your observances to your truths, your personal perceptions, but to write them with your hearts. You are not intimidated by others’ brilliance, you are courageous and gifted. We are only to be illuminated by your light.
I truly give thanks and blessings to all of you who contribute to my journey.
Love,
Linda :0)
Hurricane Sandy
By Linda Kaye
October 30, 2012
out of the shadows in a dream a dark devastating message was sent that revealed a token
a key that exposed a heart
a chest left barren although
filled with resounding regrets
20 years after the fact the ghost an apparition the likeness of Sandy a mother lost early in life from the pull of lust filled debauchery
the aftermath of silly narcissistic choices
leaving the earth with no rhyme no reason no excuse just treason
was it the season of the witch? that pummeled the eastern seaboard with ferocious massive anger humiliation and histrionic greed and gluttony? destroying the homes of her people that represented the harsh restrictions
her parent’s expectations
from an old world village of collective thinking
and cultural beliefs
made perfect sense for the American born child of the 50s the #MeWantEraOfSelfishnessMeOnlyWorldOfSexDrugsAnd of course rock ‘n’ roll
to destroy the very land that gave her birth, and freedom
And free love. It was the guilt that created this hurricane. All evidence destroyed.
“Places in the Pack”
By Stephen Buhler
We read books aloud at night.
We read Joe Ide. To stay connected with soCal.
We read Anthony Bourdain. To touch as well as taste more of the world.
We read Mary Oliver. To realize more deeply our place in nature.
We read Tyeimba Jess. To inhabit more deeply our past, our present, and our music.
We read Hilary Mantel and Maggie O'Farrell and Jane Austen and Timothy Schaffert. To rethink what we thought we knew, to absorb what permeates and inspires the past.
The dogs are delighted with storytime. They settle on the bed and listen. They do not sleep.
They try to tell us that their ancestors were drawn to the fires of our ancestors for several reasons.
Light for safety.
Heat for survival.
Cooked food for savor as well as survival.
But they were also drawn to human voices, sharing stories.
The voices of the bard and the prophetess; the voices of companions.
Bird song and cicada call are essential. Stories may seem superfluous.
Communities are not – and are sustained or wounded by stories.
The dogs sigh contentedly and hint that they, too, are nourished essentially.
Thanks to these stories, as well as food and light, we have well-earned places in the pack.
Stephen Buhler teaches at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and performs with the Americana-and-More group Tupelo Springfield.
My Hero
By Jennifer Bouchard
My Knight in Shining Armor When you shook me off your horse with emerald green fire I fell from grace Became like the Hulk Cloaked in Goddess Power Now my system reboots nightly at lightning speed Ascending light codes Growth spurts accompanied with 3 am astral travel
Leading to the ultimate point of location The United Status Chisel my curves into thirst traps Prop Me Up On My Throne Slap a filter on my selfie and call me Queen Status The danger of sitting above is I put My Hero below me like When Lucifer was rejected by God The pain Hardened him into an entity of fear and hate Seducing the planet away from love consciousness Domination ruling We all have the tools to build magnificent palaces Put our gifts together Our heads and hearts together Sparking a mass exodus The tower falls The dust clouds quake the earth As we shift Relax back with faith Trust the process Knowing soon We arrive on better days I never feel lost in the dark Ha I live in a land of a billion stars Lighting the midnight sky We all live under the same sky We all have a right to shine In a manner that makes our soul fly
Jennifer Bouchard is a poet/actress residing in Los Angeles. Being a abuse/sexual
assault survivor, the majority of her writing revolves around her healing process.
Jennifer recently performed a piece at Healthy Housing Foundation’s slam event,
The La Dream. She also recently self published her first collection, White Helmet.
The Rape of a Tear...
By G. Billie Quijano
I once lost my soul in the moon
The conscious rhythm of the conscious crime
Against my unconscious thigh
His swell did not make me swoon
My hands grasping for the moon
I was so young
My praises had not yet been sung
Azul caressed my thoughts
That prepared my slumber and dreams
How easy those clouds moved
What do all these words mean?
I survived
My life revived
Depression comes and goes
How do I slow down the flow?
I am restless
But nevertheless
I am glitter and dust from the bones before me
I glide between the raindrops and the trees
My heart, my rage, my tears
All of it taking a knee
My soul, my spirit , I am told has always been free
And still I can breathe
My Flor de Vida is de-colonized
And your shit is finalized
It's beauty is magical real
It is not for you to steal
My time is now
Don't be a fool
I no longer put you up on that stool
My dreams are no longer of you
My chocha is in revolution
Strength, courage, resilience is the solution
The universe has a plan
Look at me, I will stand
Theres no bullshit here
When lipstick wasn't enough, joy started showing up, not fear
I am stunning
And oh I loathe your cunning
The divine radiates in me
So don't fuck with what you can't see
I glide between the raindrops and the trees
My warrior's truth will prevail
My words will not stale
There will be no pussy grabbing
No assaults on my soul with your stabbing
Times up pendejos
No more raping of tears
Patriarchy is extinguished
Theres no way around it, you will hear
15% of children will be sexually abused before the age of 18.
90% will know their abusers.
1 out of every 6 women in the U.S. have been victims of attempted or completed
rape in her lifetime.
When I was considering what to submit for this current issue, I thought about composing a poem honoring the 20th anniversary of 9/11. No hesitation it is an important event. But after hearing the news that R. Kelly was found guilty on all counts of sex trafficking, I felt compelled to share this with you.
I am an incest survivor. I was made a statistic of sexual assault. I know what it is like not to be heard, not to be believed. I am grateful and humbled that I can channel some of my life experiences creatively.
G. Billie Quijano
Poeta
Composing Between the Lines
By Ronald G. Carrillo
Prelude: Composing between the lines of adversity
Post George Floyd blood flows in our poetry
Still masked up and vaccinating but some not
And caught up in a covid controversary
Capitalism needs to be realigned
With a renewed red, white and blue reading of our constitution
Composing on the lines I begin a new verse
Unrehearsed I put raw thoughts down
Always in 12 size font and Arial black style
This combination brings harmony to my page
Then my composition may stray to rhyme
That is coding between the lines of my message
An alliteration that spices up the poetic string
A particular phrase that then is evolved for deeper meaning
They were hurting one another
But each hurting for love from each other
Or just some line coming out of the blue
There to provoke, intimidate, highly speculate and add drama
He stood erect but was hardly hard
And a third gear of composing the sacred word
That being working the poetic architecture
To go outside the lines of my composition
To possibly put the reader in a temporary uncomfortable position
To veer off course and to go into deep paradigm shifts
That might lift the consciousness of the reader
So the poet will write utilizing all these devices
To bring the fragrance of the rose to his page
To speak of love that can be sweet then go bitter
To objectify the appearance of shifting clouds in the sky
To examine the color blue
Or vent, analyze, repent, confess those blues of the soul
To broaden his of her rings of experience
Add to the shade of their life patina
Embellish, contest, express, languish in a feeling
The wordsmith draws from his developed vocabulary
To bring poetic life to the page
To produce something fine and good
Like a carpenter working with wood
His medium is the naked word
Disjointed until like legos they take on the form
Of his mental blueprints
He sculpts the words until he has a final product
We paint our verbiage with broad and fine strokes
The poet can be excessively detailed
Or brevity can accomplish his or her thought process
A verbal rainstorm of just drops of wordlets
I am married to the sacred words
They are my constant companions
Spouses of my feelings for this world
They puzzle me in crosswords
They can intimidate me in the bible
They can be novel in a novel
They are visitors that appear out of the blue
They can bring me to tears
They can be enthralling
Some are so stunning they shine
Others are dull but still tow the line
They can be invented but still maintain feeling
I find many in lyrics so they also have their musical side
Some are strictly American
Many have a Chicano essence
I am still honing this craft of words
I can bend many of them to serve my poetic design
To bring a finer meaning to my emotions
To define my ideas on subjects or themes of my interest
These words are my allies
We write the good fight
We uncover truths
We explore the mysteries
Like an archaeologist I dig and brush away the dirt
Of my word until it is museum ready
The unreal reality manufactured for the masses
Can be revealed through the Arts
Artists are the canaries in the coalmines
We can uncover truths that are below the surface
My poetic vocabulary is ever expanding
Demanding for air and ink
To be released to unveil diversity
Multiple opinions, food for thought and discussion
Sometimes just a mere observation
Something maybe obvious but overlooked
Or one of nature’s gems
I continue learning and yearning to reach higher ground
I try to be fully present but do not object
To short wanderings as a present to remember my past
Memories are reflections and stepping-stones to where I am
Words are a poetic present to keep me in the present
Delicious desserts that sometimes desert me in a desert reality
They can change my mood as soon as I begin to compose
I trust my instinct and choices
As I assemble my poetic architecture
(I would be amiss if I did not thank fellow poet G Billie Quijano for
her seed of inspiration in writing this poem)
Ronald G. Carrillo is a native Lincoln Hts Angelino, living in Eagle Rock and a retired LAUSD educator and influencer. He writes of his passion and rebirth into the golden age of living. He has been writing since high school and was initially influenced from the songwriters, Keith Reid, Joni Mitchell, Laura Nyro, Neil Young.
She’s a Drama queen
By Carrie Gordon
Perhaps the best you’ve ever seen.
Wearing her heart on her sleeve Emoting like Bernhardt before the third act reprieve.
Like Mack with his knife just waiting for his chance
She sharpens her wit and readies her stance
While the rest wait silently for Godot to appear this queen orates loudly for all who are near.
Proscenium or thrust, black box or in the round She embraces the moment to tear the fourth wall down.
Monologues and epilogues that always bear repeating With the pounding of her fist, her chest she will be beating.
She basks in the limelight as the center of attention, recharging while emoting, loves the thrill of intervention.
Sit back and hold on to her roller coaster ride. A myriad of moods stretching oh so far and wide!
Carrie Gordon usually works in mixed media with pastels, acrylic and digital art. Her work has been shown at various locations in and around Southern California in both solo and group shows including: LA Live Arts, Eagle Rock Center for the Arts, Carter Sexton Gallery, Sawhorse Gallery, Cypress Art Tunnelwalk, Portfolio Gallery, Zweet cafe, Ten Feet: Art meets the River walk, Withlove LA, the Blue Line Arts Museum in Sacramento, Eden Gallery in Loudonville, New York and Middle Ridge Gallery in Idyllwild.
Truly alive or haiku of a trubluju
By Daniel Schack
Sadness is strength.sadness is love.sadness is gladness.and more sadness is hope and more strength,but never boistress.footnote.although much absolute humanism,respect,and survival come down to dollars and cents and sense.we should not and must not degenerate into an animalistic and cannibalistic society.is this where we are going.I don't know either.
The poet ,daniel schack can be seen on poetrysoup.com and his art on tumblr adanthemanworld.daniel schack is 57 and is a high school grad. With 3.5 years of college.peace.
Thanks for joining us! We will continue to host writers and poets of all genres. Everyone is welcome!!! No experience necessary!
Love,
Linda Kaye
Please submit your written work to:lindakayepoetry@icloud.com and include a short bio.
Linda Kaye writes poetry, curates poetry, produces 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 and Zweet Café in Eagle Rock. 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 most recent project a rap music video in collaboration with Mary Cheung, “ERACE-ISM” can also be seen on youtube. https://youtu.be/NfrbveNUBgg
.
Linda Kaye is a native Angelino 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 was working for the last seven years 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
