ALONE
the other side of the bed
was empty, creased-free
when I woke up again this morning
forgetting you had to leave
that I have to do things by
myself, alone.
it was already ten A.M.
the sun was high but I
can't feel the heat
only the coldness of the nights
I tried to bear, endless nights without you.
I dragged myself from the bed
fix a cup of hot coffee
I looked for your favorite mug
but the usual spot was empty
remembering you took it with you.
I took a cold shower
hoping the pain will ease a bit
even for awhile
but the splatter of the water on my face
only mingled with my tears.
dripping wet, I opened my wardrobe
and saw only pastel, soft garments
neatly folded
no faded denims, no dark colored shirts.
quietly I dressed up
went downstairs and I say
goodbye out loud
forgetting again
another slap on my face
that there's no one will answer back
I crossed down the street
without looking back
why should I
if I knew that it was just
an empty house.
* Lanie Shanzyra Rebancos is a Filipino published poet and reviewer. She is also the author of three anthologies and a nominee for the 2009 Pushcart Prize. She is now writing her fourth book of poetry and planning to write her first book for children.
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Wednesday, January 21
Lanie Rebancos is alone
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 21 Jan 2009 02:50 PM GMT
Tuesday, January 20
New poetry by Geoff Stevens
by
Charles Christian
on Tue 20 Jan 2009 10:08 AM GMT
Congratulations to UK poetry scene stalwart (and regular IS&T contributor) Geoff Stevens who has just been awarded The Ted Slade Award for Services to Poetry for 2009. Geoff adds "I must be doing something right." Here's a new poem by Geoff...
PLASTIC HERO you were Superman once but your credit card has turned to kryptonite and you no longer have the power of unlimited spending lie paralysed now in your one-room apartment scanning the free newspaper through horn-rims looking for employment Lois meanwhile having been made redundant from Woolworths is out looking for another caped crusader with a weakness for maidens in distress * Geoff Stevens Monday, January 19
New haibun by Anne Brooke
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 19 Jan 2009 08:45 AM GMT
The secret smell of lemons
The road before us darkens. The shadow of your body next to mine as we walk together. Only the rustle of the leaves. The breeze whispering me to safety might be the sound of your voice. Between us lie all the words we cannot say, although now and then our hands touch and drift apart in the rhythm of our journey. In your bright hand the secret smell of lemons, the taste of fresh spice. We drink. The walls and people around us are warm. The table is set apart. Somewhere to talk about things that are possible, swallow down like dust things that are not. You tell me of holidays, work colleagues, your new car. I talk of family, church, my unwritten novel. Under the lights, your skin is the moon in autumn framed by window bars. On your creamy skin the secret smell of lemons, the taste of warm spice. When the lights dim, you laugh, your eyes already shining with home. The bill is paid and the wide road beckons, colder now. Behind us the door shuts. Silence of night rolls over us again. We walk, saying little. At the turn to your flat, you hug me once and quickly, before the pathway folds you up. And I wonder how your tongue will taste. Under your tongue’s heat the secret smell of lemons, the taste of wild spice. * Anne Brooke still lives in Surrey but suspects she will be asked to leave soon. Whilst in hiding, she can be found at www.annebrooke.com which also includes details of her latest crime novel Maloney's Law. Sunday, January 18
IS&T editor Charles Christian performing in Greenwich Village
by
Charles Christian
on Sun 18 Jan 2009 04:44 PM GMT
Saturday, January 17
New haiga by Alexis Rotella
by
Charles Christian
on Sat 17 Jan 2009 04:44 PM GMT
 * Alexis Rotella is a regular contributor to IS&T. Friday, January 16
Barry Basden has been buying old books
by
Charles Christian
on Fri 16 Jan 2009 09:40 AM GMT
Ex-Lib, Otherwise As New
For a penny online, plus postage, I bought a slender book by a former Poet Laureate. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1974. The KC Public Library stamped the book "INV 1984" and, sometime later, "DISCARD." The unmarked checkout card still rested in a pocket that warned of charges for overdue books. Not to worry. ============================= * Barry Basden has lately been writing 55-word microthings, some of which have been published in various ezines. Some have not. Wednesday, January 14
New haibun by Jeff Winke
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 14 Jan 2009 01:28 PM GMT
Enter a Jet-Black Room
Madness has no schedule. It can be standing at the bus stop, but the bus either comes or it doesn’t. Madness may wear a trench coat – tan I think – with epaulets and that belt that no one knows quite what do with. But then again, it could be wearing a modest-length skirt and practical pumps. You just can’t tell. Madness is a bit of a jokester – more sly fox than an actual sly fox. You can enter a jet-black room and be slapping the wall looking for the switch and feel a whoosh of warm breath in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and scaring the bejesus out of you. That’s madness having some fun. You can wait for madness to come. Even lay out the Welcome mat, but like I’ve said, madness has no schedule. icy wind blinds closed to a tree limb’s beckon * Jeffrey Winke is a haiku/haibun poet and public relations counselor. Recent publications include That Smirking Face, a haiku-art broadside collaboration with Matt Cipov (Milwaukee: Distant Thunder Press, 2008) and PR Idea Book: 50 Proven Tools That Really Work (Denver: Outskirts Press, 2006). www.jeffwinke.com Tuesday, January 13
Colin Cross has no idea
by
Charles Christian
on Tue 13 Jan 2009 05:12 PM GMT
NO IDEA
I have no idea how long it had been since I'd last seen her but as I turned the corner into the lane by my flat there she was in front of me attractive and sexy in little shorts and vest she exclaimed "hello Colin" and then talked non stop about people she knew and how they were before asking me "have you seen mum lately?" I told her I hadn't and after asking where I lived she said she would come and see me asking if that would be OK I said it would be and contiued on my way I have no idea when it was I last saw her as I have absolutely no idea who she was * Colin Cross lives in Norwich and is a regular IS&T contributor Monday, January 12
Nick Allen is wondering where it all went wrong...
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 12 Jan 2009 08:50 AM GMT
Full Circle
Man was born in Africa. Around a million years ago our ancestors had the courage to climb down from the trees and venture onto the savannah where we learned to stand tall and proud. We were not the strongest or fastest, but were able to live side by side with the fiercest of creatures, able to take care of ourselves. Under the blazing sun, beneath those vast skies, we grew – tilled the land with our hands, caught our prey with our wits and built communities with our hearts. From those early beginnings man set forth on a mission of exploration, migrating north and south, searching for new lands to inhabit and fresh territories to call his own. Soon he covered the globe, no environment too harsh for this curious breed. Today I look with awe at what we have achieved in that million years. I see buildings of unimaginable size, am able to hear sounds and see images transported from the four corners of the globe into my living room, can travel in an hour what would have taken a day just a few generations ago. We have sent men to another world through an empty airless void, and a multitude of machines circling hundreds of miles above the earth send us information constantly. Man is truly remarkable. But then I see my own life where I spend hours sitting in traffic cursing, even longer at work pressing meaningless buttons on a keyboard. My hands are soft, my skin is pallid, my belly sags and I wonder where it all went wrong. * Nick Allen is a mental health nurse from Manchester, England. Sunday, January 11
New podcast by Maureen Boyle
by
Charles Christian
on Sun 11 Jan 2009 01:28 PM GMT
Here's our latest poetry podcast recording, courtesy of PoetCasting.co.uk. The poem – Invoking St Ciaran – is by Maureen Boyle. Maureen Boyle grew up in County Tyrone. She studied at Trinity Collge in Dublin, then the Universities of East Anglia and London. In 2004 she was runner up in the Patrick Kavanagh Poetry Competition for an unpublished manuscript. She completed a Creative Writing Masters at Queens University, Belfast in 2005. In 2005 and 2007 she was the recipient of awards from the Arts Council of Northern Ireland. In 2007 she won the Strokestown International Poetry Competition and in the same year was awarded the Ireland Chair of Poetry Prize. She recently completed a commission for the BBC for a poem to run through a documentary on the Crown Bar which was screened in October 2008. She works as a teacher, writer and childrens bookseller.
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