Up today, Debashish Haar, a voice for progress and hope ...

and a resident of Southern Asia, residing in India.   He can be found here:  

  http://allpoetry.com/Ink%20Shadow

Now to his poem:

carte d'identité?

A man searches 
for emotional space, escapes
in the day, returns 
in the evening, and wakes up 
crowded in the night

inside a room that leads 
to abandoned rooms, 
where his heart beats,
mind returns every night,

where windows open and close
into interiors that change
like the faces in some crowd.

He is a theoretical physicist by training, took to poetry when he was a PhD student.

"Interests: reading a wide variety of literature, keeping aside personal domain of interest(non-equilibrium statistical mechanics, don't need to mention details I suppose). In poetry I am currently doing some experiments, and rapidly transforming my work. I don't think only form poetry demands discipline. I believe in William Carlos Williams, e.e. cummings, DH Lawrence or T. E. Hulme's philosophies/vers libre movement."


Debashish Haar has been published in the Hudson Review, Texas Review, Verse Daily, International Poetry Review, Pedestal Magazine, Poetic Diversity, Poetry International, Poetry Repairs Shop, Poetry Life and Times, Autumn Leaves, etc.

Come visit his pages and seek wisdom.

Happy Valentine's Day. Today, a special treat from Paula Biscardi,

fondly known as FRIDAYatFIVE on Allpoetry.com. 

You can find her here:    http://allpoetry.com/FRIDAYatFIVE

PAPA DOBLE` (tribute to Ernest Hemingway)

Then I was born seventy years too late
So I must be satisfied to love you
Only by your timeless words

Led by your passionate soul
Along the streets of Havana
I, the Trogon, your mate
Bereft, searching, tender
Pouring out my claiming song
Always wanting, never holding

Longing to touch, 
Embody and absorb into my soul
All the conviction of you
Every fiber dancing life
Binding our spirits through
Time…
Always

Come check her out.   Happy Valentine's Day, this Thursday, Feb. 14, 2007.

A good poem from Brendan O'Halloran ...

He can be found here:    http://allpoetry.com/Brendan%20OHalloran

Question Mark with Broken Wings

I met you in space,
rising on the power
of my own hot air.

You were Ursa Major and Sun,
compass, comfort, and companion in one.
I couldn't keep my bearings straight,
and like Icarus, I fell,
sorry to be unequal but grateful
for being outside the confinement of walls
that only reflected my own image.

But even stars need rest, and when you'd come down,
to my level with each passing day, I'd be ready
with splints and trebuchets to fix the wingspan
of solar flares and sleeping pills. You made me
believe that I could repair the cosmos in a 
single night, and each return galvanized
faith like fusion.

I would straighten your reach
until you became an exclamation mark in full bloom,
pointing to real norths, where Daedeluses will find
everything they need, until the ratio of the
blessings we have to the words we use to describe them
cuts the knot in the sign of infinity and searches
for numbers unknown, and I can hear the hammering
of nails to boards, keeping feathers in place.

You are not myth.

You keep planets in alignment, create the light that
makes life, and lead sailors out of dragons' backyards.
When I kiss you, my voice raises an octave from the helium
replacing the air you've stolen. So though you've given
me energy, given me sight, and protected me from the cold
vacuum for which I originally looked, the best thing 
you've ever done is give me something to worship.

And all I've ever given you is a parishioner. 

And yet, in proof that even deities can be bad at
arithmetic, you call us even.

And that question mark is back, in full flight,
over my grateful head.

Brendan hails from the great snowy Northland.  Check him out.

Rather Imaginative is ... rather imaginative. Her name is Carrie Lundberg.

You can find her here:   http://allpoetry.com/RatherImaginative

Paradigm Shifting . . .

Is my march in the ranks of pharisees
who raise a fist in willful ignorance
and lift their banners so self-righteously,
while chanting mantras in a fevered trance?

A self-important strut, a focus lost,
those hallowed words in red all but ignored,
the world's derision is the shameful cost
of marching in religion's rabid horde.

"Protect me, Jesus, from Your followers!"
This is the consequence of zealotry,
of "Christians" as misguided crusaders,
who pound the Book and scourge humanity.

I'd like to weep as scales fall from my eyes;
I've held hands with the devil in disguise.

She hails from Washington, USA.   Come by and visit sometime.

Advice from Jeff Green, known as cricketjeff to his friends ...

You can find him here:  http://Allpoetry.com/cricketjeff

Advice to a poet

Paint in a poem a place that you love
Show us your world as it's seen from above
Tell us in rhyme of the things that you do
Give to the reader the story of you

Dream us a dream of the life that you crave
A hero of childhood so manly and brave
The form doesn't matter, the art is the thing
Put up a poem that makes a heart sing

Some like fond sadness, it's whimsy for me
Tell us the tales of the visions you see
Weave us a spell that we'll never forget
But really just pen us your best poem yet

Dive to the depths of the way that you think
Show us the nectar that you love to drink
Guide us with fondness where-ever you go
Put all your wishes and fancies on show

A taste of the food that you think of as home
A step on the path where you wish you could roam
The beach where your sandcastles washed in the tide
A glimpse of the you that you think you should hide

Some like nostalgia, a love song for me
Sing us the songs that would let you fly free
Weave us a spell that we'll never forget
But really just pen us your best poem yet

Stop by and see him and check out the others whose fine poems have been featured here.  

From a good friend, E. Darcy Trie, Onerios13

which is her moniker on Allpoetry.com.

  You can visit her here:    http://allpoetry.com/onerios13

Rice

poa is chopping onions
as green as her hands are 
white and impatient of
slow elbows, 
aspirins and me

her hair is flat like flappers
with a face born in war
and grandpa dying young
of the lungs and so glad is she
that he never met 
me in my twenties

i say nothing
to the soup tasting of
red potatoes and disappointment
and stay cooked in her rage
in that voice heavy with tea
and obligation

her knuckles seems to say:

‘i have fed you, raised you 
in my bowls and milk attention’

and how i thanked her with 
quick doors 
those boys
and moments without her
cooking

i carefully ignore her
because i know
this cannot die
she is chinese soap operas
and ginger dumplings
sunday paigow and choking
on traditions of
the good granddaughter
that other granddaughter
who honors the spoon
and wooden sticks
coated in obedience 
and salt


so i do not speak
but pour her soup
and bind us again
beneath the quiet kitchen gods

bind us with
rice
&
the jasmine of her face

Check her out if you want to read some good poems.

From a good friend, Anna Emkah:

comes this fine little gem:

My Friend and Mentor

I met my friend almost two years ago
Have no idea now, how it actually went
All of a sudden we started talking 
About our poetry and personal events 
He told me about his fascination for Africa
And about France, of which his ancestry came 
About his fights for ‘human rights’ among people 
He gave me links to publish poetry, my aim.    


Ex-newsletter editor (for 7 years) for Dawn
Creator of poetry in various styles.
Rhymed verses he prefers and literary short stories
Including science fiction, which is also on his mind 
Villanettes & sonnets and couplets in rhyme  
An American Poet, who is quite renowned 
In ‘Writer's Digest top 100’, he excels
Noted in ‘Who’s Who In America’ & ‘…The World’.


He can look cool and a little stubborn 
But in reality he has a heart of gold 
Cannot stand people who are not honest
Or commenting on poems, being rude and bold
For him a poem needs to begin in delight
Made perfect with some wisdom at the end
He teaches me how and I learn from him
I welcome his support; he is my best friend.  

Anna can be found spinning her magic here:   http://allpoetry.com/Anna%20Emkah

Be sure to check her out.  She has a heart as big as all outdoors.