Above Ground Testing Issue Two ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greetings gentle reader. Thank you to all who took the time to go to my web page and write me. Your words and submissions were enjoyable. I would ask all who read this e-zine to submit works. I know there is something special when one reads ones words in print. Send your material! I want to read it and should it meet my editorial standard and you are willing, I will share it with others. What have I been up to: well, working on some more poetry, working on the web page- my new page includes a few poems with a more science fiction theme, and just kicking back and letting life pass me by. I'm on holidays for four weeks, and its just grand. Managed to play a few rounds of golf and all that. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- But its poetry you want, and poetry you shall have! "Nature's Game" there is a game going on between nature and I. the rain is beating on the windows the wind is blowing the curtains causing a ruckus i know what they want me to do; they want me to leave my warm bed and face the coldness of nature. i bring my blankets around my neck and defy them. but nature is patient time is on its side as hard as I try I cannot resist so I fling off the covers dash across the cold floor and close the window before i do i think i hear a chuckle in the wind. "distant thunder" distant thunder brewing storm the advance of power prepared to unleash this awesome strength overwhelming man-made defenses striking with al force torrent of rain flashing of light illuminate the sky percussion of sound echo over the earth shaking and shattering background bass to the timpani of rain symphony of power commencing quickly and ending just as soon. We had some interesting summer storms where I live, and what better inspiration then the power of nature ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mummers the ages have watched them come to the trees dressed in rags and ribbons chanting ancient songs of love to the trees. the mummers of long ago awaiting the return of spring to their region the renewing of life. weaving love songs as they dance with their ribbons instruments pleading power and the restoration of good. dancing at the edge of the forest clearing place in touch with the power of the forces of life possessed with strength beyond their own dancing in abandon calling out love to the trees. ( I often have discovered music and songs are a powerful influence and inspiration for work- this poem is inspired by the "Mummer's Song" from Loreena McKennitt's cd- if you haven't heard it, go and buy it!) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Power" there is power within the written word potential energy which unleashed opens the soul exposes the lie through the proclaimation of truth bringing beauty to the beholder and joy/sadness to the reader bring it about we implore o power of the word. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- I received an interesting e-mail from Devaughan, asking me to visit and include a link to the poetry page. I did have a chance to visit, thank Devaughan for sharing with me your work. Its very well done web page. I wish I had half the talent to put together such a page. Devaughan included a poem which I want to include in this letter- all copyright belongs to Devaughan. I should also say any poem that makes reference to my favourite movie of all time, "Casablanca", will get my interest! Blue Note Café The JaZz noteZ were playing in the bodega of the Blue Note Café. The crooning ballad had stopped as the silence hushed over him. The air was quiescent, and yet the cellared ambiance was heavy from the stagnant coiling smoke. Overhead the brass bladed fans were working hard to cool the sweat that was licking him Her perfume was heady with a rhapsody in rapture, and it preceded her bodacious strut. She slithered down the blue neon stairs and I could hear the sound of her high heels echoing above the hypnotic blues that was drowning my incandescent soul. My mind was mesmeriZed by the tang of her sachet essence. I took a smoke from my silver embossed cigarette case, and I placed it between my lips like a Siren from a fire. The Zippo kissed the tip and the embers were now ablaZe. I could taste the bittersweet acrid tobacco. I watched her in silhouetted respite for her heat. Her ruby lipstick branded the white filter of hersmoke. I felt a stirring as she smouldered and exuded an aura of venial Delights. The fates were cast, you know that old cliché "of all the gin joints in the world she's gotta walk into my place..." I sat laZily in my chair and proceeded to move the chair with my foot. The move dared her to take a seat. Or was my mind playing games with me. She came towards me like a woman of intentions swaying her hips hypnotically. She was the narcotic and I was the pain. She sat down so easily and crossed her French Silk nylon legs.She eXhaled the seduction and I inhaled the seduce. The JaZz band crooned a melodious ballad and the saXophone beguiled uZ to the hardwood dance floor. The molten tempestuousness melded. There had been no words. The liquid motion was coital in design. The notes of B flat and E sharp played a sonorous duet. They went back to the Tiffany lamp lit table in the coZy corner. He took a smoke and placed it between his lips and sparked the metaphoric phallus. He inhaled deeply to calm the thunder. She took the smoke from his hands and whispered the soft silver dulcet " Drowning in my Soul" She turned her back to me and sauntered back to the smoke haZed stairway. There was no need for her to look back as she eXited... My gaZe was already searing her braZen thoughtZ... She waZ my sonnet, I waZ her Muse...That is why they call it the BlueZ... If you care to visit and read some more of Devaughan's work, the address is : http://www.escape.ca/~srd2/Poetica.htm ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- two poems from Shelley Gilroy. A young person who has a good future ahead of her. She sent me 5 poems and I've published these two. Gone I loved him but now he is gone. Gone up to heaven. Roses bye his grave but then the roses die and there is nothing left of them but pieces of something that was but now doesn't belong. dedicated to Graham Wallace in loving memory Stars The stars are shinning night,by night. the stars are shinning ever so bright, bright as the soul deep down inside emerging out with all it's pride!!! dedicated to my two very best friends Kasey and Shannon thank you Shelley for your work ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- this next poem is by Beth Mashike. "DEEP" The pain is intense, the heat is high, what I'm experiencing is nearby. It's a love I have that burns so deep. It's a love that's sprung from an eternal sleep. It's a love for life that's come alive, after years of a deadness, thinking of how life's gone by. Then you walk by,and look me in the eye, and I wonder at why, the spark ever died. Then I look back,at months gone past, and I realize, The spark never died, it only stood by. Beth Mashike "98" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- INSIDE iken to the ocean, the breadth and depth of it Liken to the butterfly, the chrysalis and the worm Liken to the sky, the nebula and eternity Look outward at the desert and the sand Look inward at the oyster and the pearl The strings of nucleic acid Love is as large as it is small Obvious as it is not as incomplete as it is complete Kharenissa ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Over the past few weeks, I've been reading the collected works of Leonard Cohen. I have found him to be a fascinating person. He writes of love and life with such an interesting eye. You can see the Montreal sophistication in his work. I also find it interesting that he is a recording star, even though he can't sing his way out of a paper bag- that's my opinion. Anyway, this about does it for issue #2. I thank all of you who wrote and submitted works. You are the reason this exists. It has been my pleasure to read your material and to include it. If you wrote and asked for my critique of your work, I must beg your indulgence. I'm going to be away for the next week, on holiday- but I promise to respond to your letter and request personally before this month is over. I'm think about the style of the next issue, do I want to stick with this plain text style, or use a proper word processing program, like the one that comes with windows 95. Perhaps one day I'll produce this in hmtl, which may take some time. The next issue will be out, when I get it out. If you have friends who are poets, ask them if they would like to submit their work, I'm always looking for new people to include. Have a good summer. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the works within are copyright by either me, or the authors 1998 thanks to: Shelley Gilroy, Devaughan, Beth Mashike, Kharenissa. You made it all happen, keep writing and expressing yourself. That's the importance of poetry, it is the frame in which the soul paints itself. Enjoy your summer. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- http://www.angelfire.com/on/abovegroundtesting/index.hmtl http://www.angelfire.com/on/abovegroundtesting/newpage.hmtl e-mail: pabear_7@yahoo.com