the sun is sparkling, the rain rumbling, and we badly need some poetry...

Thursday, 27 September 2012

Lisa Pellegrini - 1 Poem

The Rhythm of a Purr

It flows like unimpeded blood,
chastising us for mocking
life's simplicities,
for disregarding their
magical power and

their power to surprise.
Her song calms our own blood
with its subtle seduction
that refuses to take no
for an answer.

Feel the rumble
of the mini motor that dwells
within the feline form,
an engine in and of itself.
Enjoy the exquisite dance

Do not pull your
hand away too soon,

lest the beauty of the moment
escapes you.
Let the notes wash over you,
like the immortal jingle of bells
from Christmases past.

BIOGRAPHY: Lisa Pellegrini is a graduate of Beaver College (now Arcadia University) with a Bachelor's degree in English. Her poetry has been published in the anthologies Voices and Whispers, by Iliad Press. In 2005, she wrote and self-published a romantic mystery novel, Kiss the Devil Goodbye, through Borders' Personal Publishing program. She has written and published over 160 short stories and poems on, a collaborative writers' website.

Amit Parmessur - 1 Poem

O Lord Krishna

O dearest, lotus-eyed deity from Mathura,
tonight, the intense fascination I feel for You
is oozing, serenely, into the icy cold fingers
I am about to use to open a fresh window,
onto the cleansed river of eternal happiness.

The new love I have for You is turning
my dust-ridden soul into fragrant sandalwood.
I feel like a carpenter poised to transform
this cruel world into a baby-swing, adorned
with beautiful pearls, jewels, gems and gold.

Tranquillity waltzing in my heart, You move
my melancholic feet above each obstacle and make
me stop, stare and reason my disjointed shadow
reflected onto the bejewelled pillar of my mind.
I feel now priceless, pristine and One.

O Murlimanohar!
Tonight, the intense fascination I feel for You
is oozing serenely into the mellifluous sounds
working wonders on my heart a thousand times,
with Your flawless flute enthralling each pious ear.

You make me dream of sleeping inside
a hollow Banyan leaf, of shining like a hundred
bright moons, of dancing on serpent Kaliya’s hood,
of drawing and painting ravishing rainbows.

The bitterness of the entire world cannot defeat
the sweetness of Your butter if one believes in You,
O Yashoda’s red-lipped infant from Mathura.

BIOGRAPHY: Born in 1983, Amit Parmessur has been published in over 120 literary magazines, like Ann Arbor Review, Salt, Hobo Camp Review, Misfits' Miscellany, Jellyfish Whispers, Kalkion and Red Fez. His book on blog Lord Shiva and other poems has also been published by The Camel Saloon. He was nominated for the Pushcart Award in 2011 for Chinese Chicada Slough and has been nominated for He Thinks He's American for the 2012 Best of the Web Anthology. He lives in Quatre-Bornes, in Mark Twain's paradise island Mauritius, with his black cat and three cute dogs.

Thursday, 20 September 2012

Emma Ambos - 1 poem


Fat pigeons coo
            (tenant doves of
French fries)

Kings and lords
of the
                        banana peels
Cold                        coffee grounds

Bard, they’ll tell you
                           your own story

in             melon
peel thrones

they air-dry

            they’ll tell you
your fate


BIOGRAPHY: A poet of cold winter mornings, sunlight of all types and heartbeats that stutter. A lover of sounds and breathing. The dancer alone in the park. When you see her, call her name, call her Emma and she will ask you to dance with her.

Ross Leese - 2 poems

a watched pot

I found

in a wishing

the only 


that worked


the thing with love

is the tireless way
it refuses to leave you alone.

love is a dog that never bores
of chasing a stick

the daughters that rely on you
for everything you have--

the melody that won't stop
swimming around your head

long after you've finished

BIOGRAPHY: Ross Leese is a 32 year old father of 2 girls and feels blessed to have them in his life. Not as blessed as they are to have him, mind.

A.J. Huffman - 1 poem

An Eclectic Torch

My mind is a dump.
will scraps of consciousness
and thoughts
partially discarded as tripe.
Feel their edges.
to fit together.
They are desperate
to build
an image
your eyes can believe in.
But the wind pushing them
is too mild.
They rise and fall.
Just short of complete.
I cannot breathe their belief.
That shade of relief
is too shallow.
So, damaged,
we both roll on.
Blindly bouncing
into and over
every mirror --
broken or otherwise --
to show us the way.

BIOGRAPHY: A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida.  She has previously published six collections of poetry all available on  She has also published her work in numerous national and international literary journals.  Most recently, she has accepted the position as editor for four online poetry journals for Kind of a Hurricane Press ( ).  Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at and!/poetess222.

Thursday, 6 September 2012

Donal Mahoney - 1 Poem


Listen, Dad,
Mom's dead, but
you can dance
with her again.

She's waiting 
in the sky, behind
a star, humming
to the music.

You and Mom
can waltz around 
the moon forever.
She may even sing

that song you like.
I'll comb your hair,
shine your shoes
and press your old tuxedo.

There's no rush.
You know Mom.
She'd never dance
with anyone but you.

Biography: Donal Mahoney has had work published in The Rainbow Rose and various print and electronic publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.