Featured poets this month include:
Ron Cervero, Michael Levy, Ian Thorpe, Loni Yarnold, Kimmy Van Kooten and Christopher Barnes.
Please scroll down the page.
Remember,
every poem in
this section participates in PLT Readers'
Poll, where you may
choose your favourite one by vote. The only rule is for Featured Poets
not
to vote for their own poems.Results
for our Second
Readers'
Poll: Top rated poem was "Homecoming" by Elisha Porat.
All poems will be found in PL&Times
May 2007~Featured Poets.
Ron Cervero resides in New Haven, CT. He began writing poetry in the late 80’s when he worked in the TV & film industry in Los Angeles, CA. Ron has been published in: DeComp Magazine, Other Voices International, Scream of the Buddha Magazine, Blue House, Verse Marauder, Poetry Life &Times-Sheffield, Flask Review and more. Ron is also the editor of Lost Beat Poetry. His first book is called “Cranial Speedway.”  |
RON CERVERO Another Window Standing at my kitchen window, silver maples dot my neighbors lawn. I imagine in a different space and time, peering through another pane of glass — in a nursing home seeing birds eat a worm, or a jail cell watching lives roll by on a train. Life moves fast; things change by the click of the clock. Fire. Flood. Death. Soon, I’ll be looking out one more window; see my reflection and wonder, "Who is that strange fellow looking back at me?" Wrinkles, double chin, gray hair... it scares me to think about looking out another window, especially if mine is the only reflection that I see... Box of Dreams
Baseball cards, a rubber band, an 1894 Indian head penny, the aroma of cheap tobacco filled the bottom of an old cigar box; my box of dreams where no one else could go. When I was grown the box became a distant memory, I had forgotten the magic of dreams, cynical adulthood. In Hollywood I was sure that I was home, only to find a pink slip and a plane ticket. My depression? Black as coal or even blacker, I lived inside this tube of insanity where nothing made sense — I felt like I was dying. Snorting coke and drinking Buds to take away the pain, growing thin, I lost control of my life once again. Gazing through teary eyes I saw it... my box of dreams. When I opened it, I found a time capsule: baseball cards a rubber band and that 1894 Indian head penny; the box still wafting old tobacco from 30 years ago, it filled my nostrils. My life was not full of hope anymore, just the agony of knowing; how I wished that I could start over... one more feeble attempt at life. Eventually, I fell asleep clutching my box of hope. I had a dream that it was all a terrible mistake — my war wounds, my drug addiction all passed away in my unconscious mind. When I awoke I felt a moment of peace... of hope. Through blood shot eyes I looked around the room, stacks of empty beer bottles, an ashtray full of death , the residue of cocaine and a dirty rolled up dollar bill, still on my mothers’ antique mirror; no box of dreams where no one else could go. And I knew that I was back — back in the pit of hell. Strange Eyes
My fingers are on the keys. I can type anything. We can go on a journey of war, or celebrate peace. But the words come rough. Strange Eyes look past the present. Time – Manipulated The world hugs you and tells you, everything is going to be alright. You look up in astonishment, and know it’s not going to be alright. It will never be alright c. All poems by Ron Cervero, 2007. |
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Michael Levy is the author of seven books, a mystical poet, inspirational philosopher and wellness/healthy living speaker. His latest books are "The Joys of Live Alchemy" and "Worry Causes Wrinkles" which help a person to change dark negative situations into beautiful, colorful, positive actions, that bring de-lights on the darkest of days. Website: Point Of Life.  |
MICHAEL LEVYThe Wisdom of the DeadDead people are the most intelligent people not on earth for they now know the truth and realize what put them in their graves If only un-dead people would awaken to fathom the wisdom of the dead. What’s in a Name?The Stock Exchange, Straddled with Bulls, Bears and Stags, A faux farmhouse, Mask the... pen and ink! Time and money to invest, What's the option? Perhaps a change of name.......... The Rascal House? Call; for a pastrami-on-rye Put; on plenty of ketchup and mustard Order; executed and full-filled. His MilestoneHe worked hard, for twenty-five years, His business was a huge success, The biggest in town, A new milestone, Hitting the headlines, in all the local newspapers, Quite an achievement, since he started out with nothing, He made a speech, saying he would retire soon, Low and behold, new, more venturesome firms abounded, Competition grew fierce, No problem; he was up to the task, After fifty years in the business, he was the biggest in the country, A new milestone Catching the headlines, in all the national newspapers, He gave a speech, Saying he would definitely retire, very shortly, However new, novel, unfamiliar competition snowballed, Nevertheless, he was up to the task, After sixty-five years in business, he was the biggest in the world, A new milestone, Striking the headlines, in every newspaper in the world, That day as he prepared, to make his speech to retire... His milestone, became his headstone.
The Thinker of the ThoughtReflections of the mind in a life beyond earths green meadows, My, how a seasons dramas pass by like wind driven clouds, And how congested the thinker of the thought. Oceans shimmer like diamond starlight, Mountain tops hide in silvery mystical haze, Shadows stretch, tinted by crimson sunsets varnishing the deep forests of pleasure, Laughter and color frolic in twilight skies. Beauty and joy dance in ever increasing circles around the genius of fresh life, Animals and plants live here feeding each others existence, Streams of exotic light infuse all. But; how did it all slip by unnoticed? Divine emptiness now fills the eternal voids, A speck of mysterious nothingness reminisces, Gazing, Towards a place, of awe and wonderment. c. by Michael Levy, 2007. |
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