Featured Poet: Gina Alyse

Potpourri

by Gina Apperson

To someone else

Dried flowers may seem better

Than a collection of random

Literary extracts.

An extract of honey perfume

May smell more welcoming

Than the crisp paper pages

My fingers hold.

A diamond ring that flashes

With every change of light

May bedazzle more brilliantly

Than the next metaphor listed.

In fact the next hidden meaning

Of this delicate language

May just go unnoticed

As clouds spiral day by day,

Making curtains in the air.

Such curtain, only of lies,

Would then feel softer

Than the quiet melody

Of missing voices

In the beryl skies.

And the sweet music that vibrates

Daily instead

Would sound better

Than the flawless flow

Of words voiced with strong soul

To someone else.

But never am I

This someone else.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Gina Alyse is a delight. She keeps an eclectic blog where she catalogues her interests and daily musings, and she was kind enough to feature some of my work.  "Potpourri" has such a calm rhythm to it. I especially love the lines "as clouds spiral day by day, making curtains in the air." Such a lovely image. 

Featured Poet: Jessica

Somebody Doesn't Exist
by Jessica of The Midwest Muse


Will somebody remember us?
When  the oceans dry up,
and the finest art decays,
the stars burn out and modernization never happened.
And there's the jasmine scented room,
where we laid our coats and our bodies,
and you caught me looking at that man,
that wasn't you and I smiled.

When there are no trees left to be wheeled away,
buildings aren't constructed out of brick and mortar.
And the midsummer nights are riddles,
where you seduced the warmth with a broken banjo.
And I gambled the night away with a drink,
a false smirk and the skin under my favorite dress.

Will somebody remember us?
When the food chain shifts,
the leaves stop changing.
And children are never granted innocence.
The grass vanishes,
replaced by sand,
And the landlocked blues
fade into the Earth.

When the color drains from my wine stained cheeks,
and the world has no color palette.
The plethora of choices become a single option,
and like the scones I never ate,
we crumble into crumbs.

Will somebody remember us?
When the birds can no longer fly,
and your once bright eyes have dimmed
like the moon that forgets to set,
and the sun that never rises.
We were young once,
when we dressed up in our Sunday's finest,
and we stole from the house by the sea.

When the heat never returns,
and seasons are a foreign concept,
like the film we watched that first night,
and the fireworks we created before we understood,
what the tears really meant.

Will somebody remember us?
When time was a concept built by a man,
but the man died and took his secrets to the grave,
The vegetables cannot grow without water,
and water only existed to wash away our dreams,
like the paint we used on the bridge that collapsed.

When harmonies cannot be heard,
because the world is tone deaf.
Like the night I sang out of tune,
to your broken banjo.


__________________________________________________________________


Featured Poet: Jessica is a lovely lady, who was kind enough to feature my blog on hers not too long ago. Her style is always colorful and well thought out. To get to know her better, visit her blog here.
__________________________________________________________________

Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
Submissions are subject to editing if deemed necessary.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet via Bloglovin' or Google Friend Connect.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.


Thanks for reading!

Featured Poet: Jill McFee

Exodus

by Jill McFee

It would be easy

to lay down our lives

like spades after plowing

and walk away with nothing

but the stories on our backs

the vein maps to everywhere

we’ve already been

I would walk away with you

our hearts in hobo sacks

we trade and sling over our shoulders

as the dust of the road paints our faces

we’ll know when we’re there

because it is somewhere far from anywhere

and it is where we will plant

a flag and lie in the grass

without wondering where there

is a washing machine

_________________________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Jill McFee is a bubbly, adorable multi-talented lady, and if you'd like to get to know her better (which obviously you do!) you can find her lovely blog here. 

_________________________________________________________________________________

Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
Submissions are subject to editing.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet via Bloglovin' or Google Friend Connect.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.


Thanks for reading!

Featured Poet: Amber R. Nelson

The Redwood Children

by Amber R. Nelson

He said: I wouldn’t mind if you buried me on that knoll

under a red boulder from the ruins of the big house.

It was the discovery of two small graves in the Valley of the Moon.

Children of a pioneer, gripped by sickly root, lay underneath

fallen oak leaves and warm earth, tuned to the field mice

and bearded trees.  Their loneliness is expansive.

In this spot a father burst open on his knees

before trudging forth that silent morning over

newly-shaven hillsides.  A wilted lily, a redwood tree

reaching out of the ground marked with redwood tablets.

The wood oscillates.  In this soil are the hundred year old

hoofprints left by an appaloosa, the freshly-discarded

skin of a rattlesnake, the down a towhee shed in the thrust

of flight.  The boulder was rolled up to the burial ground.

The happy death: to let one’s remains give company to two others.

_________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Amber R. Nelson is a published poet and keeps a stylish little blog called Un Petit Fauve. Her poetry always seems so sophisticated to me. If you'd like to read more of her beautiful words, you can visit her blog or purchase an exquisite broadside of this poem in her shop.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
Submissions are subject to editing.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet via Bloglovin' or Google Friend Connect.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.


Thanks for reading!

 

Featured Poet: Leanna Kay

The Castle Built With Rocks That Fell into the Sea

by Leanna Kay

I built a castle with rocks that fell into the sea

And sailed a paper boat on silver lakes as sad as me.

I drank up all the happiness and moonlight with a breath,

While fallen skies and weary eyes danced with life and death.

Before the dark had settled and the sun was painted red,

We danced like daunting lovers. Our love trickled from a thread.

Garden full of white wood trees, we mingled and we sung.

Laughing eyes and foolish ties, we let ourselves be young.

While we played in the vines, I cut my fingertips

On the thorns of yellow roses, blood began to drip.

I cried out, “Where did you go?” I crept into a sleep.

Into my veins a poison cold and harsh began to seep.

When I woke, you were there, but you were not the same.

You never spoke. You smiled, but you wouldn't say my name.

My body, weak and wilted, I stood up and swayed to you.

You didn't try to catch me; like a ghost I fell right through.

You sang a song, enchanting, and it almost quelled my hurt

Until I saw my home of ivory, stained with dust and dirt.

My heart, so sick, so dull, so thin, tried to grasp your hand,

But as you looked away I slipped into a starless land.

Alone, inside the castle built with rocks that fell into the sea,

I watch you through the windows, glossy as can be.

You dance with someone else in a garden fine and fair,

And I'll remember you, though you forgot that I was there.

_________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Leanna Kay is one of the sweetest bloggers in the whole blogosphere. Her poetry always brings to mind Alfred Lord Tennyson. Isn't it so beautiful? This piece pulls at my heart each time I read it. If you'd like to read more of her work, take a little trip to her blog.

_________________________________________________________________
Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.



Thanks for reading!

Featured Poet: Jennifer Marsh

No Cash Value
by Jennifer Marsh



Why not?
Save now! No exclusions on- family. Children. Home.
Like [s]aints consume the Basilica
More beautiful than Rome
As you fill your empty soul with
emptiness
American Living Apparel-
Made in third-world countries
By children whose names you can’t spell
Their hell? Well,
That’s just sixty nine cents an hour
No math required!
And…no interest for the first six months!
50-80% off!
That’s a small price to pay
4 hour steals
That steal far more than 4 hours- of your blood. And bones.
As you destroy your future
And shatter the past
Blur the line between contentment and greed
Insist on owning everything-except you
And try to cover up, how little you really have.




_________________________________________________________________


Featured Poet: Jennifer Marsh and I were in class together a few semesters ago, and her poetry always floors me. Doesn't she seem like a pro? The flow of this poem is flawless, and these words bring to light such an unfortunate aspect of our culture. If you'd like to read more of her work, check out her award-winning piece in the latest issue of Voices magazine. 


_________________________________________________________________

Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.



Thanks for reading!

Featured Poet: Amber Rose

The Moon Is Always Smiling
by Amber Rose


I.
Slightly doomed, the jazz singer looks back longingly.
Pale, but not a ghost, she waves at the lingering shadow that once was.
‘Don’t look back,’ she must repeat. She’s just lost her lover,
and the flowers on his gravestone dance wickedly in the August wind.

II.
Life is worth more than you hold it to be.
Just breathe and retire your fears,
and maybe futures can be spent with tears you’ve saved.
Don’t look outside
until the storm passes
and keep your fences clear.
The moon is always smiling.

III.
The reflection of the ghost, a look of absolute trepidation.
Bigger in death than he ever was in life.
Am I looking through a crystal ball?
His breath lingers on my neck in the looking glass.
His eyes pierce mine and we laugh like mad children.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Amber Rose is an aspiring jazz singer who also writes poetry and keeps a sweet little blog called Laughing With Broken Eyes. Her words are always lyrical and evocative. Even her blog posts are written lyrically! If you'd like to read more of her beautiful poetry, you may do so here.

_________________________________________________________________________________
Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.




Thanks for reading!

Featured Poet: Courtney Rose Kendall

the smell of death still lingers
on the tip of my tongue,
oozing from bloodylips
wafting purple, cold.
i wish i could die
before i reach my grave,
i.want.to.destroy.every.thing

I once fell asleep in the
honeyfields, alone and afraid
where you promised
(you promised!)
to take me away
salty ocean spray
burning in my eyes
my hair floating
on the ice cold water--
adrift in your oceans
of (broken)vows.
the ones we told ourselves
blanketed in velvet night,
the moon swallowing up
the hill, our bodies, our kisses
transforming words into motion
(upon the earth’s sad face)

I want to cry out to the birds
and the rocks and the fields
and the wild sun(rays)
of the fury you have spread
— wildfire in my bones—
I want to crush you, curse you, hate you
yet the corset that we tied
when i whimpered and longed for you
is unsnippable

one day i stitched
the sheets to the mattress
divided the bed right down
the middle in scarlet thread
in my emptiness, I drew
a line dividing our room
in half and stole
the segment of my soul I gave you
that night I loved you under the autumn leaves
the wind breezing through my hair
and the moonlight glowing on golden skin

I snatched a glance at the photograph you gave me
snipped you out and left you lying on the floor
a beautiful frame of that dreadful night
you poured my happy heart into your glass of wine

i am only a memory. a shadow. a grey, grey memory.




_________________________________________________________________


Featured Poet: Courtney Rose Kendall is a very dear friend of mine and the sister of my sweet Josh. Over the years it has been so wonderful having someone with whom I can exchange poetry. Her writing is very passionate, so it's no wonder she is a part of the slam poetry movement. I love her style. It always inspires me. Her imagery is always so strong and so poignant. "Corset Bound Heart(s)" is my most favorite of her poems. The mental pictures of stitching the sheets to the mattress and the unsnippable corset have been permanently printed on my mind. (Hence, my little heart doodle.)


To read more of her work, visit her facebook page and her blog.


_________________________________________________________________

Are you a poet? I'd love to feature your original work!
Submission Guidelines:
Subject matter is not limited, though profanity is discouraged.
You must be a follower of The Quirky Poet.
You may send your poems to rachelmarie@thequirkypoet.com.
All work is subject to editing if I deem it necessary.


Thanks for reading!