Opening Words
Reviews
Submissions ( Mike Barney, C.J. Heck,
E.B. Reid, Charlotte Mair)
New Works
Concluding Words
Greetings lovers of poetry. Welcome
to the May issue of AGT. There are some new things planned for the
"Above Ground" world. I am working on the production of a new e-zine.
This one will feature poetry of a more alternative style. I hoping
this will featue work that can be considered experimental.
Look for a mailing in the near futue.
I have started
working on it so there is time for submissions to this one. I'm hoping
that this will be a quarterly zine. I don't know how it will turn
out but if you want to be more experimental with your work, consider sending
it my way.
More information
will be showing up on the web-page. I'm working on this aspect, so please
be patient. The new web page will feature the mission statement and
guidelines for the new zine. My hope is to have a new page
just for the new zine. The name of the zine will be "Avant-Garde
Times", continuing the use of the initials AGT.
I decided to go
this route since I have received, in the past, material which I felt was
not quite fitting the mission of AGT. As you know, I try to keep
the material for this zine suitable for all ages. Some of the material
was just a bit beyond that, yet was still good.
I don't yet have
a launch date, perhaps later in May. I have a small web page up and
running. Its still in the rudimentary stage. Its address is:
https://www.angelfire.com/on2/AGT
.
I trust
all of you have had a good Easter, Passover or whatever religious festival
or non-religious festival you celebrate.
There was an error
in the previous month. I mis-read the e-mail. The poem "Near"
should be attributed to CJ of CJack magazine. I apologize for the
misunderstanding and want to give credit where it is due.
As you may notice,
this ezine is a bit late. The reason is that I have been busy helping
the Kosovar refugees. The tales of misery I have heard would break
your hearts. Its a challenge to clothe them all, and its quite rewarding.
In one thing that is funny, its the teen-agers. You know they just
have to be dressed just right, with matching outfits.
Seasons
Dun grass in winter.
Beneath, sleeping quietly,
patient rich brown earth.
Bright bursts of color,
joy leaping everywhere.
Spring is aptly named.
White moon, onyx sky.
No clouds hiding the
fierce stars.
Tranquil summer night.
Trees don pajamas
of gaudy autumn colors
preparing to sleep.
Another
poet I'm glad to give space to is C.J. Heck. Enjoy this one.
Awhile Ago
Warm summer night
warmer still
where she is,
lost in awhile ago.
His body
spooned behind
feathery sleep sounds
in her ear
with echoes
of other sounds
from moments before.
Gentle breeze.
Feels nice.
Cools the lusty beads
pearled across her forehead
skin feeling like skin
again.
Warm summer night
inside her as well.
Eyes closed
she smiles
lost in awhile ago.
E.B. Reid, of Newfoundland has this poem.
Love Bite Poem
(First Friday after Ash Wednesday)
Blueberry, partridgeberry,
raspberry coloured
flesh flavoured
mnemonic device.
Personalized intimate
souvenir
of what I was
supposed to have
abstained during
Lent.
March
20, 1998
Charlotte Mair, brings to us, this interesting poem.
Reincarnate?
Running, scrambling,
dodging bullets
foxhole to foxhole
camaflauge khakis dusted
in silt
a warm breeze
sun glances swaying
palms
I can't take notice,
then glimpse my shiny,
up to code boots
as ordered by the Captain
Crest the hill
and there he is
A reflection
of myself
Painted in fear
Gaze for one iota in
time
triggers - FIRE!
Hot lead thuds my chest
and
sends me aback
one barren, fruitless
tree to lean
Dog tags rattle
as I search out precious
photos
She will be sad at my
parting
as my children will
- fatherless
Slam........
But then I watch myself
crumpled and lone at
the tree
one last expulsion and
I'm free
The subliminal, embellical cord is not severed - why?
18(b)
As I'm outside, I'm
rising, rising
inside my memories
floating...speed of
light
furthering into life
past
The fear is gone...the
light is welcoming
I follow
Stop.....!
Sucking breath, gasping,
intense pounding of the heart
I fall back to reality
this was a dream
or was it?
Life and death are such
parallels
I see
death was not accepting
me this time
...not this time
not this girl of seventeen
Just a dream?
The Shoehorn
Diaspora
exile
far from home
in a land once unknown
among people unfamiliar
memories, memories
of struggle and loss
of fleeing the effects
of superpower interference
and regional hate
what did you bring
to remind you of your
home
a simple silver shoehorn
the relic of the past
old man
your choice is
interesting
was there not time
to grab a picture
or find the family book
only a silver shoehorn
your connection with
what was.
If I can close. Think of others. There's a lot of pain and misery out there. Let's not add to the effect. Can you give a good word, work, or just be there for someone? Let's not get so wrapped up in our own thoughts that we neglect others.
The music for the zine: "The Celtic Book of Days", by David Arkenstone. The legends, stories and myths of the celtic culture interwoven with music. As the seasons turn from one to another, the disc brings us to listen to the sounds of life.
All poetry is copyright by the respected
poets. ©1999.
This ezine is the work of Paul,
from his underground location. Its been published monthly so far
and I hope I will be able to keep going.
WANTED: poetry, prose and opinion. Anybody want to send a review of a book, disc, movie or anything, please do so . Until next month. Peace.