Charles Bukowski 'a good poem can do almost anything'

"C. Bukowski ended his poems better than any other cat I've known" 

tama tells us. . .

"me ow", cries frosty   "other than frosty", tama replies

yes, noble assistant editors, and! a few of Charles Bukowski's concluding lines, and then, treats for all!

                                                            frosty's "meohhh!"   

'for the miracle of food and         

maybe  nobody  ever  angry             

again, this place and                  

all the other places                                      

for them

and

for me   

   for

      all

         of 

           us. 
                                                        tama, "goodness,

                                                        how appropriate

     Angels,                                           for these days 

we have grown apart'                                of ours"

          

'eat a good pear today

so tomorrow                           'or at least

you can                                 take time

remember it'                            to turn the sauerkraut.' 

                      frosty: "I chose these!"

"and I'll close this post with the following" says tama. . .


        'writing stalks
        death.
        it knows no                                                  

        quit.

        and writing 
        laughs
        at itself,
        at pain.

        it is the last
        expectation,
        the last
        explanation.

        that's 
        what it
        is.'


'a good poem can make a broken mind
fly,
a good poem can let you shake hands
with Mozart,
a good poem can let you shoot craps
with the devil
and win,
a good poem can do almost anything,
and most important
a good poem knows when to
stop.'

                  'as the wind breaks in from the sea

                  and time goes on 
                  flushing your bones with soft peace.'

                  

and it's treats, 'not for either you and I, but for all the rest'

"correction, maestro" states frosty- "for all of us!"

ok, tama, frosty, let's see to it everyone (including us) 

has a treat today. . .   and, my thanks to assistant ed. tama for
editing Buck's ofttimes 'colorful' subject matter/verbiage

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                                              darylayaz@gmail.com

above excerpts are from two of our favorites, Bukowski's
'The Roominghouse Madrigals' and 'Betting On The Muse',
Black Sparrow Press.   
               Our best to your own good writing!

  

Alan Catlin: Scenes from Hiroshige’s Emperor’s Road

              Scenes from Hiroshige’s Emperor’s Road

stated editorial assistant, and sage, the Froster: 'Tama, our friend Alan Catlin is a very gifted poet'  

and assistant ed. Tama replied, 'yes, of course he is! and let's do another post of his poetry"

        and thus, gentle readers, poetry from Alan. . .

        

        Merchants and travelers

        seek refuge in village                            

        alongside the floating

        river. The journey is long

        and the temptations are

        many along the way.

        Tradesmen and women

        display their wares;

        long are the nights

        spent in reverie and joy!

                                            

                               

              Gagaku Dream                                                                         

              Court musicians dressed

              in ceremonial robes wear

              Noh masks; hands move,

              strings quiver, taut drum

              skins are tapped; not one

              sound is heard.

              In the hearth, a fire is burning.

  

         Sudden rain squalls

         on mountain roads

         to the village;

         only the rich

         can afford fine

         woven silk jackets,

         everyone else

         wears straw!                                    

             

             

             

Along windy beach

fishermen haul

their nets from

the sea.  As night

falls the human

chain is unbroken;

the catch still far

from shore.

                                                         

                                   

    Miya

    Pilgrim disembark from 

    chartered sail boats

    near the Atsuka shrine

    where one of three scared

    treasure of Japan is stored.

    Here the sword, outside,

    someone has planted

    chrysanthemum

                                                               

          Terminus

                                                 

          Crossing the Great Sanjo

          Bridge, temples and geisha

          huts await.  In the distance

          high mountains surround

          the capital, Kyoto.

thank you, Frosty and Tama, thank you, Alan

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                           darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com

poets: Chris Faiers, Christina Sng, George Held, Teresinka Pereira, Catfish McDaris, Dennis Rhodes, and Bradley Mcilwain!

assistant editor Tama, putting her paw down: "we've been so 

busy moving, we haven't recently honored any 0f 

the poets we care about!"                              

 

assistant ed. Frosty, 

stating, "I'm putting 

four paws down 

in agreement! 

(we've been a 

little short on treats, also)"

yes, noble assistants, you are so right, and! here we go. . .

                           Chris Faiers

                        Marmora, Ontario

secrets revealed

with every step

in the dry stream bed

                                              faded mandalas

                                              carved in the wood

                                              of the old bridge

                crows discuss

                drought withered fields

                and wild red apples

Christina Sng

  Singapore

summer break

the cat's hotel                               water ripples

nicer                                         our cat tries to pat

                                               the goldfish

                 first day of summer

                 a raven feather

                 at the door

             ('gotta love Christina's cat poems' says Tama)

                                                                       

George Held  

  New York

                                           Too Few Submissions

                       Recipe for a failed literary magazine

                       in one simple guideline:

                      "We do not consider first-person

                       poems or fiction.”

                       Teresinka Pereira

                         Toledo, Ohio 

                       EARTH DAY 

                       The earth

                       is an enormous home,

                       strong and renewable

                       where our dreams

                       and our utopia survive.

                       The Earth is as recycled

                       as we are, beings

                       who live on the surface,

                       underground,

                       or in its cosmic space.

                       Viva the Earth

                       for the infinite treasure

                       it gives us!

                       We must have a special love

                       for everybody's Earth

                       and for the everyday Earth!

     Catfish McDaris

     West Alice, Wisconsin

                                                  The Desert

     Cochise’s dry hot tears

     skeletons of buffalo

     windstorm ghosts dry death.

Dennis Rhodes

Naples, Florida

                        

                         A tortoise and a snail

                         had a race and no one

                         else noticed but me.

                         What to make of it?

                         Just that it's one of those things

                         alert poets see.

                         Would love to tell you who won--

                         had to go resume

                         my own race against time.

Bradley Mcilwain                        

Brooklin, Ontario

                                          muddy path -                             

                                          boots press on

  shallow stream                       always seeking

  a Heron dips her wings —

  vision taking flight

"we did it!" says Tama

"and this post just feels good," I reply. . .

Frosty, "yes! and now, everyone, it's time for treats!"

and, we will 

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                          darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com