Lovelorn Poets

From Anchorage to Zebulon: In Search of Missed Connections

Lovelorn Poet in Eugene, OR: Queen Of Crows III

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Queen of Crows III

Queen of Crows III

Love captive exacts
It’s terrible revenge
All thoughts a kindness
All records a wrong
Our hearts in twine
Blood’s river Rhine
One step
To brink and back again

To curse a friend
With Neverwhen
Oblivious to shared sorrow
Millstones begat
Unnerving and flat
What hope will lift tomorrow

Bound cage of air
Twirled ’round and spared
The stones of outraged fellows
Marvel at the sign
Held up by mine
‘Tween dark and restless hollows

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconI’ve been obsessing on the words, “Bound cage of air | Twirled ’round and spared.” One typically sees a cage as a restraint, with air being the substance that moves freely. But what of those times when it’s the air itself (or our perception of it) that has the power to contain or release us? A cage can be more than a physical structure.

Lovelorn Poet in Las Vegas, NV: Miss Crazy Pants

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miss crazy pants

miss crazy pants

walls shake door slam
oh shit
stray thought
commands the avalanche
mental black ops
asylum of one point five
voices
like silk threads
of imagination cloth
soaked in sour
organic morning sweat
skin all crawly
pulls away
cringes at the touch
of seams tags
cold zippers aren’t metal
anymore

~ Susie Hewitt, that crazy Las Vegas poet

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents Icon The Las Vegas MC has quite a bit of poetry and creative writing on it, but it tends to be a bit skewed in the “Crazy Pants” stream-of-consciousness category (which isn’t always my thing…). However, finding a poem ABOUT crazy pants, both literal and figurative, is a completely different kind of statement. As the butterfly illustrates, black and fuchsia can be appealing in the right environment.

Lovelorn Poet in Eugene, OR: Queen of Crows II

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Queen of Crows II

Queen of Crows II

Time held
My heart helpless
Between love and serpentine thought
Come undone
Dreams were given
Tasted in mind’s light

To lose the way
Seems tawdry and strange
What’s feared cannot be hidden, forms fleeting ‘neath the ice
Truth be gold
Tongue shapes a plea
Drives down within cold night

Burn bright
My gentle soul
Your ocean’s clear as glass
And above
Fire’s light aglow
Skies twist, but all is right

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHere’s another in the Queen of Crows series that recently appeared on the Eugene, OR feed. I’m finding the artwork that accompanies the poems to be particularly fascinating – and this one, about the crow and a beet, especially. Trying to locate the original source of images is even more difficult than written words (at least Google can help there), so unless otherwise indicated, I try to believe they’re personal creations of the writer.

Lovelorn Poet in New Orleans, LA: Keywords

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Magnetic Fridge Poetry by Steve A Johnson

Magnetic Fridge Poetry by Steve A Johnson

the funny thing about the “o” ‘s (though it’s a formality)
control in all of its formats
former northern explorers
Amazonians
ugly garments
drive thrus
numerous holes in the head
black dogs
Northern pacific
the hippies
planting portably
my favorite place to retreat
Seattle
global politics
kamakaze fish
Twix v. Reeces v. Whatthefà ‚ £{=à ‚ ¡!ever that was
things that float
the “Robin” issue
determining distance
superhumanism
street signs
DYNOHUGS!

if you thought I loved you then,
I wouldn’t even know what to call it now.

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconKeywords are used to reveal the structure and focus of a writer’s reasoning – a shortcut of sorts that provides a reader with a glimpse or “sneak preview” of what can be found within the body of work. Quite a story, many stories actually, could be generated from our poet’s list. If we write the keywords before we write the story, how might the outcome be different? Hmmm …

Lovelorn Poet in Baltimore, MD: Tokens

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Feeling Lucky by G

Feeling Lucky by G

Tokens!
Tokens!
Five for a dollar!
Push it in,
Slam it,
into the slot
Turn the volume
all the way up
Careless of the lives
you are bound to destroy
Muffle the sounds
of your new toy

Back it up
Track it
Give it a new skin
Pray to your gods
While your head is a’spin
Falling off ladders
Jumping up hills
Bound for your glory
Everything goes still
Holding your breath
For the next thrill

Game Over

Insert another coin to continue…

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents Icon“In proportion as the machine is improved and performs man’s work with an ever increasing rapidity and exactness, the labourer, instead of prolonging his former rest times, redoubles his ardour, as if he wished to rival the machine. O, absurd and murderous competition!” ― Paul Lafargue, The Right to Be Lazy

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