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New Poetry, Fiction, Essays

Featured Poet Joan McNerney

I am from Brooklyn, New York and fell in love with poetry when I was nine years old.  My first publication was in Young America Sings when I was fourteen. It has been a long and wonderful journey. After retiring from the advertising business, I have moved to lovely upstate New York near the Albany area.  The internet has been a boom to my publishing credits and so many of these ezines are outstandingly beautiful.  I feel we are in the middle of a golden age of poetry.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze, Blueline, and Halcyon Days.  Three Bright Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road Review Journals, and numerous Kind of A Hurricane Press Publications have accepted her work.  Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky and she has four Best of the Net nominations. 

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Winter in New England

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Night drops like a hammer.

All day sludge grey snow,

slivers of ice.   Fear of falling

on paths covered with snow.

 

Night drops like a hammer

Driving through white outs

listening as the car motor

wheezes while climbing hills.

 

Night drops like a hammer.

Home now with only my

strength, my silence and

no trace of blue in the sky.

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Jazz

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the kitchen sits

in fruit soup…

steamed apricot

mango shadow

 

down thru spinning

smoke into hot light

blink beat

 

body ends dangle

lead eye skin cement

high on tongue

 

night pasted among

buildings Styrofoam clouds

moon hung beneath billboard

 

rolling pass wet

rocked streets

soul tramp

diamond panhandlers watch

paper birds slices of

the daily news drift in air

 

comes cool ether

whispers up door

climbing dusty corridor

 

tree windows lapping lisp

door slams again noise again

then none void nothing syncopates

noise again door slams tree bare frozen

 

caught in the image of 7 candles

within 7 candles flames of air

7 light bulbs growing out of each other

7 silver circles coined from 7 silver rings

 

clear as blazing sheets

of glass yet

vague as dust

an ice cube on wood table

in front of crushed velvet

melt

poured

peeled

 

when this sky now boiling with

stars is strapped black

in pinched air thru sucked mind

swimming pass spaced time

will be one silent

note up.

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Eve Speaks

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Eve speaks

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Although just one snake is well known

in that so-called paradise,  actually

there were tons of them.

 

When we ran away, I was never so

happy.  My feet no longer touching

swarms of mushy poison.

 

Fruit smelled to high heaven in Eden but

berries tasted yum yum good as we filled

our faces hurrying happily to the east.

 

Adam replies

 

She’s so beautiful.  I would have

followed her to the ends of earth.

I am her captive then and now.

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Present 

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You gave me
five brown pods
to grow in
my garden bed.

I put them
in a glass jar
with my locket.

Five brown pods
winding through
heaven. Weaving
night with winter
wishes for wisteria.

In a flower dress
wandering over
perfumed fields
I sleepwalk
searching for
my golden locket
and your embrace.

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Blue Your Eyes

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Blue your eyes

this edge of snow

in silent sky.

Brown eyes soft

tree bark patterns as

yellow flicks

sparkle in wintry sun.

 

And now it seems

your eyes are green

green as spruce

turning to grey eyes

glancing across as if

from a mountainside.

 

Your eyes two violets

hidden beneath frost.

Close your eyes

as sleepless stars

glide through night

in aerial ballet.

 

Black coal eyes

glowing on fire

red flames leaping

out of eyes burning

blue your eyes.

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Poetry- Jean Taylor

About the writer Jean Taylor belongs to Words on Canvas – a group of writers who work in collaboration with the National Galleries of Scotland.

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