✿ APRIL ☀ 2014 ☂
by Kenneth Taylor
Perched atop the knarly tree at silver lake
I watch as tears go by.
Falling past my sitting spot.
I keep the wood dry, but I am soaked.
Years beat on the lake and the man and the boat.
His yellow raincoat scares the grey away.
My coat was lost long ago: it lies trampled
In a gutter or buried in a splatter of mud
That wheels turn up.
Come inter- freeze me to this spot
Squeeze the Lifeblood from my veins
So that I might no longer Feel.
Frost- congeal the sap sludging through my Soul.
Why wait to be Happy when you can be Nothing now?
And why be Gone when Here is Perfect
Retracted from distraction by refraction
The moon hits my eye. Life is
Good night, and may the sweet moon carry you into
by Janice Canerdy
My children, standing 'round my bed,
are whispering and crying.
The fuss they cause would make you think
some poor old soul was dying.
I hear them say , "...so weak . . . so pale . . .
The rattle's in her throat."
And now they hover over me
to pat and fret and dote.
I laugh inside and ask myself,
"What do these youngsters know?"
The spring of life still flows in me.
It's not my time to go.
Chill death will go and claim someone
who welcomes his demise,
not one like me with much to do
and see before she dies.
I count the times I've cheated Death
and sent him on his way.
Through fever, illness, injury, age,
I've held that thief at bay.
I chuckle now as I recall
the time he almost won--
the day he staked a claim to me
and my new baby son.
I shook the fever from my brow.
Death shied away and fled.
Since we escaped his clutches then,
I've nothing now to dread.
Remembering has made me tired.
I'll close my eyes and rest.
Tomorrow holds a sweet delight,
a new, exciting quest.
Poehemian: a poet or artist who does not adhere to the norm; a bohemian of poetry or art; a poet or artist who is quite possibly (subconsciously or consciously) inspired by the great Edgar Allan Poe.
"With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night." -Edgar Allan Poe
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development,
invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant." -Edgar Allan Poe
"The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world." -Edgar Allan Poe
"The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'" -Edgar Allan Poe
"It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream." -Edgar Allan Poe
"There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm." -Edgar Allan Poe
"I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Never to suffer would never to have been blessed." -Edgar Allan Poe
"It may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma... which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve." -Edgar Allan Poe
"All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry." -Edgar Allan Poe
"I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat." -Edgar Allan Poe
"We loved with a love that was more than love." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute." -Edgar Allan Poe
"And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams, Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams -- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Can it be fancied that Deity ever vindictively, Made in his image a mannikin merely to madden it?"
"The most natural, and, consequently, the truest and most intense of the human affections are those which arise in the heart as if by electric sympathy." -Edgar Allan Poe
"The customs of the world are so many conventional follies." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been." -Edgar Allan Poe
"Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence— whether much that is glorious— whether all that is profound— does not spring from disease of thought— from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect." -Edgar Allan Poe
"The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn,—not the material of my every-day existence-- but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself." -Edgar Allan Poe