Monthly Poetry Magazine

Read the Poems



Read the Poems


JULY 2014






I am the crystal ball of the world --- 
 in me you view 
 the past, 
 the present, 
 and get a glimpse  
 of things yet to be.  
I am the magic lamp of the world --- 
 if you rub me and ask of me, 
 the objects of your heart’s desire 
 will come to you:  

  		I am the theatre of the world --- 
  			 with me, concerts and plays, 
   			songs and dances of every nation 
   			become your daily fare.  
 I am the art gallery and museum of the world --- 
  			 the greatest and rarest masterpieces 
  			 of every place and age 
  			 are on display within me 
   			for you to visit anytime.  

 		 I am the library of the world --- 
   			I offer more news and books and literature 
  			 for your reading pleasure 
   			than any news stand can sell 
  			 or any local library can hold.  
I am the encyclopedia of the world --- 
  			 I have stored so much information 
that you never have to budge 
from where you are 
to do your homework, 
your master’s thesis, 
your doctoral dissertation, 
or to just seek knowledge 
for the love of it.  

  		I am the playground of the world --- 
  			 with me you can spend your leisure time 
   			playing your favorite sport 
   			or an endless variety of games 
   			constantly being created for you. 
  		I am the marketplace of the world --- 
   			through me you can buy and sell 
  			 almost anything of value, great or small, 
   			offer your special wares 
   			to a selected few or the world at large, 
  			 go on a buying binge 
   			or just window-shop until you drop.  

 		 I am the social hall of the world --- 
  			 in me you meet new friends, 
and get to choose your friends, 
share your views with everyone, 
show the things you love to do 
however grand or trite --- 
to kindred souls, 
to mere acquaintances 
and to strangers you will never meet; 
you can perform, and strut 
your ordinary or awesome talents 
for all the world to see and hear. 
  I am the true express mail of the world --- 
  			 through me you can instantly send, 
  			 personal and business letters, 
   			Happy Birthdays and Happy Holidays, 
   			Congratulations and Condolences, 
   			ardent and urgent love letters, 
   			or just casual hellos to friends, 
and everything in between.  

And I am the magic wand of the world --- 
 	wave me and your absent loved ones 
magically appear before you 
to talk to you, 
to laugh and cry 
and sing with you 
wherever they are, 
wherever you are.  

I am all these and much, much more… 
 never in your wildest dreams before. 
 I live in your laptop, 
 	your tablet and your cell phone. 
Just touch me with your fingertip 
 … And You Own the World!  





masks of seasons

is it lovers who sing
the season for love
is always
is now
	(winter is never
	and summer is ever)?

is it warriors who shout
war is forever
	(today we maneuver;
	tomorrow we rout)
and corpse counts
must mount
to mountain –
to sky –
(or to hell-) high?

if autumn isn’t quite
and spring’s just over
how come
	(come life or come death
	come truth or come fable)
lover equals warrior
as sheep equals wolf
is disguise?

come winter masked as summer.





in this day and age
you can’t sing (peace i love you) pianissimo.
the static drowns you out.

i had some oriental friends
who sang silent night holy night
beneath a moving star;
but the star turned out to be
a guided missile
which of course stopped their singing.

or take some mutual friends
who celebrated new year
firing off rockets ---
only it was at each other
and they were spared the hangover
(should auld acquaintance be forgot?)

perhaps if they send us
those six-megaton eggs
for easter
there will be peace on earth
but then who’ll be around
to say thanks
on thanksgiving?

i wonder
what to expect from our friends
next christmas.
meantime, friend.
try to sleep in heavenly (peace i love you)
will you?




the things you are

not the heaving
of a restless sea,
	but the soothing calm
	of a moonlit lake;

not the searing heat
of a fiery furnace,
	but the glowing warmth
	of a friendly fireplace;

not the cloying sweetness
of a flower-decked garland,
	but the subtle scent
	of a single blossom;

not the witching hour,
	but a thousand faithful dawns
	fulfilling the promise
	of one morning star.

these are the things you are.




song of the ancient

let us rejoice,
we who are withering,
who shall soon fall from the twig
and embrace the loam beneath.

we are weary;
we have scaled life’s jagged cliffs
and have groped amid the shadows of its forests;
we have wandered across its pathless hills
and have gone down its valleys.
let us take off the path-worn sandals
of our life-journey.
we are on the threshold
of the end.

we, too, have drunk of youth,
and we long to drink of it again.
we, too, recall those days,
the days we laughed, and lived the present
and heeded not the morrow,
the days we spent for the love and the life
we never dreamt would end.

now we are withering;
now we are dying;
let us rejoice,
our waiting is ending!
we shall soon be face-to-face
with Love,
with Life,
with the forever Present,
and we shall be young