Poetry

by Kevin T McEneaney In antique days poets said that the eye functioned as portal whereby love entered: quick as an arrow, shot by Cupid!   The world record holder, Lars Andersen, can shoot three arrows in .6 seconds, yet ...
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by Kevin T McEneaney A pleasant set of chimes can turn around a day by transforming it into cheer. Chimes remain an important talisman on front porch or rear exit of a home— you can tinkle them, scare the hummingbird, ...
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Put a Cricket in your Heart by Kevin T McEneaney The earth is full of singing poetry— from the unseen worm to gold cricket perched on a blade of cemetery grass by the carved stone of a fallen soldier who ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney replaced by tv dating game shows food recipes replaced intimacy alliteration and assonance abandoned as artificial affectation it was deemed sentimental when compared to pornography romance was no longer thought possible computers didn’t know how to ...
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by Desmond Egan   exhausted banging buzzing how baffled he is as he crawls is crawling against the pane of all the bright beyond   watch that web           its speedy spider                   poor tetchy ...
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The tongue, a most interesting organ. Without a tongue we would speak with fingers. Tongueless, food would not be appetizing, lovers would not taste their beloved’s flavor. Imagine drinking wine or vinegar and not tasting or judging the result. Our ...
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by Kevin T McEneaney When scent of lilacs lilt in Spring air, it’s time to retrieve pick-ax, spade, and hoe to plant various seeds, tubers, and bushes. Working in mellow drizzle of droplets one feels a deep, mysterious kinship with ...
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by Kevin T. McEneaney Thou shalt not permit dust bunnies larger than a basketball to accumulate in any room. Thou shalt not stuff the refrigerator with moldy mushrooms or rotten, brown vegetables that look like dead leaves. Thou shalt not ...
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by Bill Keller I skied these woods when snow was deep, learned about its slopes and shadows, the openings between the trees that were sketchpads for my double lines. Threading quickly down, then climbing; I was tireless until muscles ached ...
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by Kevin T McEneaney Just as physicists play with duration, light, and the vast concept of space itself, so do poets when they are most sober gazing into the heart of who we are with our warts, black holes, and ...
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