Shannon O'Loughlin – Ponder Away

Us

We were young
Just learning how to love
Our friendship grew
Into something new
We belonged together
You knew it from the start
You stole my heart
Then I fell apart

And now after all these years
I look at myself in the mirror
The woman staring back at me
Misses what we used to be

Hate and love and broken trust
That is what’s become of us
But something pulled me back to you
And now I don’t know what to do

So here we are
Kissing in the dark
Too late to undo
I’ve lost myself in you
I crave you like an addict
Been starved, unsatisfied
You’re helping me remember
What it’s like to feel alive


Red

I reach out for you but you’re not there
I’m crying, grasping at thin air
I feel it underneath my skin
Your lack of love is creeping in

I’m seeing red
You’re in my head
I lost everything we never had
I missed all our memories
While you never once missed me
I’m your nothing
And nothing hurts more than nothing


Wild In Me

What can I do with this wild in me?
Where can I go to spread my wings?
I want to run, to breathe, be free
So I run, then it starts running me

How do I stay up here so high?
How can I stay in this open sky?
I fear the fall as I struggle to fly
The abyss below is consuming my mind

My aching wings, they’re giving in
My feet crave solid ground again
I’m falling, rushing through the wind
Back to the black I’ve always been

How can I feel when I’m buried so deep?
Twisted up in the words I’ll never speak
The darkness takes me, my body is weak
So I fall apart until I fall sleep

What can I do with this wild in me?
Where can I go to tame the beast?
I want run, to breathe, be free
Free from the wild inside of me


Artist:

Shannon O’Loughlin is 29 years old and has been choreographing, teaching dance and coaching gymnastics for over 12 years. She started out as a competitive gymnast before training in hip hop, breakdance, contemporary, tap, jazz and ballet. Shannon also danced and performed through college at UAA. Her choreography has been featured in halftime shows, dance competitions, auditions, talent shows, gymnastics meets, cheer competitions and dance recitals. She has also choreographed numerous productions for Valley Performing Arts and helped judged local talent shows. Shannon always tells her students, “I learn more from you than you do from me. You are helping me learn how to teach you in a more effective way during every class”. Shannon enjoys writing, watching documentaries, playing guitar, dancing everywhere and doing her make up!

Linda Ferguson – Ponder Away

The Art of Being    

I want to hum along the faded corridors and slip into

the diva’s dressing room, to flick my wings inside

her kimono’s silken sleeves,

I want to leave my tiny footprints in her spilled face powder

and wear her silver eye shadow like a pair of iridescent shoes –

I want to get a glimpse of my flash and glimmer in her bright mirror

then buzz through the shifting heat of the auditorium,

to circle zip dash dive the sweet sticky hairdos

of the ladies in their capes and pearls –

I want to land on the smooth black knee of the flutist

then soar to the tip of the conductor’s baton,

where together we stir the air, gathering a basilica

of notes then releasing them to mingle and pulse –

I want to burrow in the thick folds of the velvet curtains

and skim through the dust suspended in a beam of light

as I shape the perfect curves of figure eights

to the beat of the applause rising from the theater seats

my belief this is the way things are for everybody:

art and motion, ecstasy, ovation, encore!


Artist:

Linda Ferguson

https://bylindaferguson.blogspot.com//

Ruth Kozak – Ponder Away

MIDNIGHT MUSE

My Muse comes after midnight

nudges me awake.

Whispers urgently,

“Get up! Write!”

I curse her,

stumble across the dark room,

search for matches,

light the candle wick.

Where has she been in the daylight?

How many hours did I wait for her

listening for her voice?

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Was it your voice I heard

while I daydreamed in the sun?

Or was it only the sound

of sheep bells on the mountain?”

“Write!” she demands. “Write!”

If I wait til morning

the words she whispers to me

will be extinguished

like this candle flame.


Artist:

W. RUTH KOZAK is a published historical novel writer and travel journalist who sometimes writes poetry. Several of her poems have been published in anthologies including the most recent, “Precious Moments on the Beach” in Limitless, an Anthology Charity Project by McGrath House with proceeds going to refugees and immigrants.  Ruth plans to publish a book of poems written during her many stays in Greece titled “Songs for Erato”. She is currently working on a YA historical novel titled “Dragons in the Sky” in which some of the chapters are written as Bardic verse.

Jay Gandhi – Ponder Away

Wondering wanderer

when at home, I imagine the Himalayas:
the yellow tent to buy from Decathalon,
the UGG Men’s Butte Snow boot.

when in nature, I think:
if my Dad has taken Ecosprin 75 mg,
if my Mom has got an eight hour sleep.


My problem, my solution

You cross my mind
while I eat roasted almonds.
I begin counting the pieces left
in my right hand paying close attention
to the size, color and feel
of each almond. I try to name
the taste & listen to the crackle —
smell the roast.
I visualize the smiling face
of my 3-year old niece,
followed by how the sun rises
in the gullies of Ghatkopar.
I imagine the sound of the rain
on the Himalayan mountain.
After that I count back from 100—
only the multiples of 7 & 3
and on the numbers like 63,
I utter “a double”


Pedestrian meditation

I look out from the 8th floor window
to count the number of buses
which halt at the bus stop

All the buses roar in,
dash out: there is an urgency

Everyone wants to reach somewhere

They want to meet someone;
someone wants to meet someone else
and someone else might just want to visit me

Focus Charlie! Focus

my bladder is screaming,
acids are churning the stomach,
eyes are getting weary—

Here comes #399;
Nirvana isn’t a piece of cake


Cold Diwali

(i)
these days I am writing
a thesis about how bats
& owls survive the nights.
I think it would help
sole rangers like me

(ii)
there are coloured tablets
in my medicine case which
create different rangoli
every time; this Diwali
they are the only colours


Children have left the house

the timid streams gather courage,
bustle as they build momentum.
they start to join at the junctions
and begin to soften all the rocks
one at a time. sandstone is becoming
quartzite. granite is becoming gneiss.
milk is slowly curdling and the
tributaries are forming a river.
a river which is uninhibited,
it has no colour, no nationality,
no race, no religion. it breaks
all the boxes, crashes mental dams,
while it houses the salmons and eels,
it is the home for fishes and flies,
a place for hippos and rhinos
but has no place for a thought
of flowing backwards.


Budding Romeo

Today I’ve visited the home of my beloved
It seems as if I’ve visited the entire city

Black tea created such an atmosphere
I’ve sensed my partner in just a few moments

In the shining diamond around her neck
I’ve seen the stone which hypnotises

I’ve felt such a peace and relief
that I’ve seen the fear of loneliness tremble

In the slightest of her smiles, I saw a boat.
Trust me, I could visualise the full sea


kaka

A portrait is locked in my wrist.
My 2B Natraj pencil chokes
on the Fido-Dido sketchbook.
Muse’s forehead has many lines:
first line is a prayer for his wife
battling breast cancer,
second line denotes the loans
taken to send his son abroad,
third line is for the pregnant daughter.
His hair is grey but doesn’t
appear so when oiled.
The oil seeps through the head
and tries to dissolve the turmoil.
No Old monk. No Jack Daniels.
Each day when he returns home,
his wife opens the door
and greets him daily;
that moment is Nirvana—
the precise reason to stay alive.
His knees no longer bend
but he still tries to do so
when bowing to the God.
Even Picasso would tremble to get
the layers and wrinkles right.
But I have taken up the challenge
and the running title is kaka.

=====================================================
kaka 
is a respectful way of summoning a old man in Gujarati Language


Badlapur Local

In a first class compartment
there are blue seats with
soft cushion.

In a second class compartment
there are brown seats made
of wood.

some people discuss
the features of the Apple XR

others are contemplating
the next step to be taken
because the water supply
would be cut by the time
they reach home


White

She loved vanilla,
eggs & snow.
Every night she
tracked the cusps
of the moon—
she died today;
she was wrapped
in whites as she
traversed the clouds.


Rubato

More than 10000 pieces of broken mirrors
are stuck together for the installation.

Some pieces are dull, some are luminous,
some from the crashed wardrobes of a big shot
while others from the remains of the dashed cars.

they reflect with different intensities
but create the Large beat—

Earth hums songs on this very beat


Artist:

Jay Gandhi is a 33-year old accountant from Mumbai, India. He writes free verse in English. Most of his poems derive their inspiration from human inter connections. In free time when he isn’t reading poetry, he practices guitar, enjoys the peace that Yoga Asanas brings and walks for long distances.

Call For Submissions – Love Starts With You

Call For Submissions for my February series, Love Starts With You.

Any form of creativity is welcome! (Poetry, music, paintings, photography, etc.)

Work will be displayed on my blog: http://www.pondersavant.com.

Deadline: February 1st, 2020

This February, my blog is going to be focused on loving one’s self, self care, taking care of oneself first or oxygen-mask-on-first type concepts.

Submission Guidelines:

1. Send your art of any kind (poems, music, drawings, paintings, videos, photography, or any medium of creativity!). Topic should be about loving one’s self, self care, self worth, etc.

2. Include a picture of yourself or any photo that you feel represents yourself as an artist.

3. Include any links to your work or social media sites that you would like to be shared.

4. Email your submission to Mia Savant at pondersavant@gmail.com with the subject line: Love Starts With You

5. Follow the blog site www.pondersavant.com. If you have facebook or Instagram follow there as well @pondersavant.

6. Finally, don’t forget to share www.pondersavant.com on your social media!

Deadline: February 1st, 2020

Okpeta, Gideon Iching – Ponder Away

Sometimes i hurt.

Sometimes i hurt
Sometime -thank God, not always.
Infact, looking back over my life,
i must acknowledge that He has presented
me with far more joy -filled days
than sad ones.
And yet i find myself deeply grateful
for the difficult, sorrow-drenched days,
perhaps even more than for the
easy happy days.
For difficult days have enriched my
spirit so much that i find myself singing
with the hymn writer, 
Adelaide Anne procter:
” I thank your, Lord that all my joy
is touched with pain.
That shadows fall on brighest hours 
than thorns remain,
so that earth’s bliss may be my guide
and not my chain”.
I have much to learn as a child
the most difficult, perhaps, is to learn
how to regard tragedies that beset in
as capable of enhancing my life.
I desperately need the wisdom of Solomon
the forbearance of Job to accept
the painful happenings with
graciousness, even with joy.
For i know that whatever they may be,
God can transform them from uglyliness
into beauty.My key is genuine faith in a loving God,a faith that frees and strengthens meto ensure whatever may come my way.
Each time i am down, i repeat the
words of shakespeare as comfort to walk with:
“He is the most wretched of people 
who has never felt adversity.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
which, like the toad, ugly and venomous wears,
Yet a precious jewel in his head”
Help me that when odd events of life
knock at the door of my heart,
i would respond to them.
I would take the events of my life as 
good and perfect gifts from you
I would receive even the sorrows of
life as disguised gifts from you. 


Artist:

Okpeta, Gideon Iching is an emerging poet, essayist and a
technologist. He lives in Nigeria.
He’s currently a student at Akanu ibiam Federal Polytechnic,
Unwana Ebonyi State Nigeria,Where he is pursuing his
undergraduate diploma (hnd) in Electrical/Electronics engr. Tech. He
possesses great writing prowess on contemporary issues affecting the
culture of christian society, ethics and morality; which he learned by intuition and research. Most of his poem appear at poem hunter online publishing website.

Meg Smith – Ponder Away

Forest of Exiles

A bonfire snaps,

and laughter leaps

amid the sparks.

Far from the clearing,

I lean into the dark,

trees in their bark

pressing me.

I could run

but I don’t run.

My belly carries

all the stolen

of night.

I could sing,

but I don’t sing,

I leave the truth

in my tracks.


Hulling

I remove the green —

fine, cutting.

I’m standing amid rows;

summer fruit, heavy;

bees swoon,

as if the air

has intoxicated them.

What do I cut, bleed,

knowing.

What is my deserted sun.

The earth yields,

still, whole.


Caves of Myrrh 


The first, stone, moved,

a fine powder — 

a last, ‘amen,’

a last feast,

of two, sitting

cross-legged,

at the entrance.

What next, 

in the curl of

sweet scent?

One must rise,

one must burn.

My words

will keep my fire,

and so too,

our breath.


Artist:

Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer and events producer living in Lowell, Mass. Her poems have recently appeared in PoLarity, The Cafe Review, The Horror Zine, Raven Cage eZine, and more. Her most recent poetry books, Dear Deepest Ghost and This Scarlet Dancing, are available on Amazon.

Photo Credit: Derek Savoia