Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art Blog

Our twitter is @feversof eic @davidLONan1 Facebook Group: http://www.feversofthemind.com Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Arts Group

Paypal donations & Submissions e-mail: feversofthemind@gmail.com 

*WEB SUBMISSIONS ONLY*

*ALERT: We will be putting up new prompts every few days some will be 2 day/3 day prompts some could be up to a week according to what, whom, etc. it is* The hahtag idea was failing so that is how we are going to do it…less pressure on me overall. I will put up what comes up over the weekend based off those prompts and then we will re-evaluate which prompts .I also might do a prompt call out for Quick 9’s, showcases, reviews, etc at any given time. I’m unpredictable but reliable at getting your work seen for the most part unless some poetry I deem not in our view at Fevers of the Mind comes in. Also, as the editor I will be re-working my book “Before the Bridges Fell” new book “Cursed Houses” and my wife’s book (to be named later) in the next few months… I have also began a book with collaborator “The Empath Dies in the End” this will be a slower process…so as always be patient… If accepted I usually have your stuff up in a month. If not accepted I do not respond because, I myself hate getting rejection e-mails….just send us something else please. This is reiterated later on this page. Thanks! – David L O’Nan

Current Writing Prompts: Poetry, prose, short stories, sonnets, lyrics, haiku, art inspired by the following all October and we are also taking stuff from past prompts as well see this page *JUST ADDED RIP LORETTA LYNN…INSPIRED BY LORETTA LYNN POETRY AS WELL. *Announcements for October including release of Deluxe Edition of Before the Bridges Fell (Fevers of the Mind Press)*

Nick Cave & all collaborations/bands including Nick Cave
Joni Mitchell
Tom Waits
Pablo Neruda
Harlem Renaissance Art & Poetry Scene
Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Loretta Lynn

Also still taking poems inspired by Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Chris Cornell, Andy Warhol & The Factory including The Velvet Underground/Lou Reed, Audrey Hepburn, Prince, Claude Monet, PJ Harvey, Instrumentals of Harold Budd

*On our twitter @feversof and our facebook Group; Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art Group we are doing weekly Ekphrastic poetry challenges based on photography, art, & even music. These challenges go quick. So join our twitter or facebook page to see the prompt and send your responses to feversofthemind@gmail.com

We are open for Poetry Showcases for anyone to send 3-5 poems/prose. If not all pieces are accepted. I will post the 1 or 2 poems but will not be considered a showcase.

We are unable to provide compensation at this time contributors. We have to reach out through the year for donations just to keep the site going. This is for the art of poetry, music, art & other creatives.

Some poetry/art published on this site will periodically be taken down if space is running low. You will be guaranteed at least 6-8 months exposure on our website. No promises after that and don’t take it personal.

Themes we are Looking for Poetry/prose/articles/other styles of writing are for Adhd Awareness, Mental Health, Anxiety, Culture, History, Social Justice, LGBTQ Matters/Pride, Love, Poem series, sonnets, physical health, pandemic themes, Trauma, Retro/pop culture, inspired by music/songwriters, inspired by classic & current writers, frustrations.

Online Submissions could include Poetry, Art, Book Reviews, culture pieces, rants, pre-published poetry from self-published materials, defunct lit mags, pieces from other lit mags/books/blogs with permissions. All submissions will first be published on the website and then considered for print anthologies with a high probability of being in a future edition of Bare Bones Writing or any specialty anthology. Just trust the process. Pieces may not be immediately in books, but over time they should be for the most part. Unless they are website exclusives. I prefer Poetry Showcases, but if you have book reviews, essays, prose pieces, short stories, cool artwork/photography please send this way. See below for more info. If you just want to send a one off piece I will look at it and if it is really good it could be considered. I just usually like a variety of your work. Thanks.

All submissions with bio (doesn’t have to be long). Please let us know if something has been previously published, we will make a judgment call on whether able to include.  For Bare Bones Anthologies I’d accepted I will let you know within 1 month of email submission. I have RSD and don’t love the idea of sending rejection letters.  If you don’t receive acceptance assume we passed up this time and send something else. If you have simultaneous submissions out there, please keep this in mind. If not accepted at first, Just try again…We will not accept pieces that we deem racist, sexist, homophobic, or have pornographic themes, photos, or any type of nudity in submissions.

Please donate to our paypal at feversofthemind@gmail.com if you enjoy this site and our anthologies. Anything helps. Thank you!

About Editor David L O’Nan

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

Out now the Deluxe Edition of “Before the Bridges Fell”

https://amzn.to/3ftkxNX for a copy on paperback or kindle (U.S.) please check availability in your country. Some countries take awhile for the paperback to be released. It could be a few days to a couple months until available.

Quick-9 Interview Questions for writers below. Always send in word doc or in body of email to feversofthemind@gmail.com or pdf if you have no other option. Also, a photo to go with interview is preferred.

Q1. When did you start writing and whom influenced you the most?
Q2. Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?
Q3. Who has helped you most with writing and career?
Q4. Where did you grow up and how did that influence you? Have any travels influenced your work?
Q5. What do you consider your most meaningful work creatively to you?
Q6. What are your favorite activities to relax?
Q7. What is a favorite piece of writing you have done so far? Any meaning behind why?
Q8. What kind of music inspires you the most? What is a song or songs that always come back to you as an inspiration?  Or what is a writer or book you always come back to when you're needing that extra inspiration?
Q9. Do you have any recent or upcoming books, music, events, projects that you would like to promote?
Q10. Bonus Question: Any funny or strange stories you'd like to share during your creative journey?

Quick-9 Interview questions for musicians/writers. Always send in word doc or body of e-mail to feversofthemind@gmail.com or pdf if you have no other option. Also, a photo to go with interview is preferred.

Q1: When did you start writing/discovering music? Who influenced you the most?

Q2: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a musician/artist?

Q3: Who has helped you most with your career?

Q4: Where did you grow up and how did that influence you? Have any travels influenced your work?

Q5: What do you consider your most meaningful work creatively so far to you?

Q6: What are your favorite activities to relax?

Q7: From your accomplishments what do you consider a favorite piece of music that you’ve done? Any meaning behind why?

Q8: What kind of music inspires you the most? What is a song or songs that always come back to you as an inspiration?

Q9: Do you have any upcoming projects that you’d like to promote? Concerts, books, events, etc?

Bonus: Any funny memory or strange memory you’d like to share during your creative journey?

***Any actors/actresses, artists, photographers, comedians, podcasters, bloggers, athletes that are wanting a quick-9 interview answer a set of the questions above and I will incorporate your answers to your specific job***

Poetry inspired by Sylvia Plath & Anne Sexton by David L O’Nan: 8 Black Dresses (or 8 Geese of Hanover)

The art is hidden for now. I have obeyed too long.
I feel frozen.  While my possession eats the heat.
Where have you gone?   Slid behind the clouds?
Perfumed doors.   Rooms go from stale to rancid blindness.
I feel bloodless.   Accidental and lost a shine.  Pale funeral songs.

The black dresses are now my misery
These, that dance above me twisting.  Swing dancing into a hex.
All ghosts, all witchery.
Former waves that blew the knives over us and dared us to swim the lake.
Dim are my eyes and bones that have chalked.

As Jacques sings "Ma mort attend comme" 
I hold all the flowers, I hold all the crippled photographs.
Elderly and young photos.  Fortune tellers in the clouds.
Deafening light from outside. I want the puniness of a weak night.
No hardening storm.  No flooding streets and screaming thunder.

They, the geese she'd use to fly over me. I felt lucky to have them.
A new direction.  To escape them.  To escape him. To escape the cage of screams.
Those 8 Geese of Hanover that kept hovering me.
My guardian angels I would welcome them to my melting wax home.
I wonder now if they were truly demon.  Explosions, the apple and all.

As now alone and severed I feel that they are the same as these hauntings.
I watch 8 black dresses hover over me now.
But they in these garments, they bite.  The geese have transitioned their colours.
I awake to scissor teeth marks on my skin.   So they are heaving to me the curse.  Still.  The Curse. Always that curse.   
Do holy bibles hiss?

Is my god a blonde bombshell?
Is my god a tornado?
Is my god a magical bearded fabulous genius?
Is my god a chirping cricket?
Is my god a newborn baby?
Is my god a morphine drip?

My revelation is a promise?
Le deuxième ange sonna de la trompette
befitting.  closing eyes. 
staring into darkness, rippled waters I feel in the air of this room.
Leave the lake, become my misery.
In this room that pain stares at me. 


Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.




My Brother (Lays dead under the Hickory Tree) Inspired by Anne Sexton by David L O’Nan

My Brother (Lays Dead Under the Hickory Tree)

There he is 
I see him under pelts of hailstones
A riddled mind and diseased by doctors
the icy rain pulsing little cuts 
All over and over again.
I'm still in a quiet thought
We always felt the ending.
Or at least I have seen this ending.
In nightmares every night
The men festive from the jail.
Mother, a stereotype. Needing an exorcism.

There he is
My brother, a little hushed baby of 25.
Shoes as split as a peeled banana.
His coloring of blue, like the river nearby.
Like the breeze that blows through his long haired, daredevil boy.
He was hideous in his battle
Popping firework amphetamine pills, dragons watch the alleys.
The abusive and abused in corners and in jars.
Oh, lonesome traveler
a blood kissed jewel.

Some crows sing in their broken voices, they sit atop the bells.
They fly in the air, they congregate in the tree above. The sick hickory
I watch with no blink as they rescue him from the cold ground.
For only a few long hours and then they just return him back
to give him a comfortable dirty sack.  
Underground, where they'll whisper out your sins to each other.
We can't escape the gossip.  
Gossip clumsily falls like a slinky missing a step along the way.
The steps that are missed however, are remembered for coming up with the best stories.
Your best demise. 

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

Poetry Inspired by Photography by Kevin DeLaney @kpdela Poetry by Matthew Freeman, Vipanjeet Kaur, Lesley Curwen and David L O’Nan “The Empath Dies in the End”

The Empath Dies in the End

So I find myself alone after a night of separation
A Black night lit up over our green chairs.
Now empty, no longer filled by our bodies
and our conversations, sits like ghosts
My God! this night has moon lit on fire.

I was the first to vanish from your anger.
Your white lightning skin wrapped in the moon rays,
as you paddled insults to my heart.
You will never let me feel the honey.
To let my lungs wrap up in the stickiness.
The mosquitoes and the bees begin to sleep with a thirst.

Will a new man let you swim in that undertow?
The Chimes they cling together by the swirling winds.
The clashing waves pour onto your cracked toes from Lake Seneca.
Several hours of dancing some unnamed waltz.  
On your hideaway beach that wasn't hours. 
That is what the prophet tells me.   
Stabbed in waiting while the hymns carry my ghost away from my body.

I listen with dim sleeping eyes.  The boats in the distance belt out 
tunes.  I drain in this loneliness.  The weakness, rustic in scowl.
Blood over the beads of rocks.  Listened to the wind blow once.
Listened to the wind blow twice.  It was a disguise.
Converged pure from my polluted brain.  The narcissists was wiry and sudden and overtook my neglected heart. Infested a brain.
The Empath dies in the end.

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

The Tranquil Sun by Vipanjeet Kaur

The sun sits tranquilly 
over the western horizon
at dusk,
His charioteer slows down
and pauses for a while
After traversing the whole sky.

While riding the chariot of dusk,
He smiles a last fading smile –
A farewell gesture;
A token of eternal love;
A parting kiss 
to the dying day.

While folding millions of his
imponderable arms of rays
that pervade the world
throughout the day,
He draws the blinds of 
his effulgence down
before night,
Like a mourner,
saluting the passing day.

Beyond the picket fence
of my mansion,
The one-eyed overseer
rings the bell of repose
and looks at me 
through crimson windows,
imparting a rosy aureole 
to my dormant hopes,
and like a dreamcatcher 
promising vernal dreams.

A fervent plea in his closing eye
to release the unrealised dreams of 
the dying day: broken, dead and decayed
in the autumn of dusk.
Let them burn 
on the pyre of the setting light,
Let the sombre red embers
reduce them softly to ashes
with the deepening darkness of dusk,
Let them dissolve in the darkness of night,
Let the cremains of despair be immersed 
in the flowing silver moonlight

before a new dawn begins
a new chariot ride. 

Bio: Ms. Vipanjeet Kaur from India is a poet fond of writing poems on various themes like nature, women empowerment, self, spiritualism and life.  Her haikus have been featured in the international online journals like Haiku Dialogue of The Haiku Foundation, The Haiku Pond, The Cold Moon Journal and the Scarlet Dragonfly Journal and her micropoetry has been published in the Five Fleas (Itchy Poetry). She has also read research papers on the topics of Literature, Human Rights and Women Empowerment in a few national seminars and international conferences. 
She can be followed on Twitter @vjpoeticmusings.



Fevers by Matthew Freeman

And I’ve said there’s no difference
between the streetlamp and the moon.
And that’s still true, but now
in late September as everything wanes
I’m sitting outside my sister’s apartment
with my diet soda and my cigarette and my iPod
watching the crowd get thin at Ted Drewes
and every little thing we believed in fall apart.
Someday when the sun burns out you’ll ask yourself
whether you stayed true, really true, to your
feverish desire.  

A Poetry Showcase by Matthew Freeman 

Moonage by Lesley Curwen

Haloed lunacy floats crosshatch beam
through umber cloud and bulrush-crown.   Bleak horizon swallows photon-feed
down continents of eyeless waves.

Landward, pines guard empty chairs 
against moon's threat, a pump-song
chuckles chlorine,  muddles jets
of aquamarine gems.

Poetry based on photography “The Lone Road to Moloka’I” from Maggs Vibo
 Poetry based on photography Challenge from Ankh Spice pt. 1




Poetry/Stories inspired by “Elvis Costello-Veronica” David L O’Nan & Pasithea Chan

Twine Years by David L O’Nan

Ever since I remember as a little boy
my grandmother much younger than I actually thought
She appeared to be lost and looking for the lost sunset all day
Another cloud goes by and she smiles and says "it is about to become really pretty out here."

She would sit in on a knotted wood framed chair and watch her world disappear as the moon came out to remind her for a moment of who she is. As she twisted some twine together hoping to someday make more blankets and sweaters.

The woman with style at the 1950's ballroom halls.
The men would look and she'd flash her ring
A quick look at her military man in a picture frame. Smiling in the dust that buries the room.  Her yellow wedding dress sits in the attic.

She remembers the walks in the park with her lost friends.
She remembers the children as they were children.
She remembers the kicking and jumping, the twirls of immortality.
By the beach she would splash for hours with a wagging tail dog.
She remembers the endless fashions she would help mature a town from rags to class.

She looks blank and cries to a mass of blanket that she has been working on for weeks.
Was that military man remembered for his drunkened slams of fists against the walls?
The accusations he'd proclaim as he ran with the mice in packs to the whores and sweating out Sunday mornings. Dripping, stained and stinking in a plaid jackets.

I have to calm her down.  I play the "The Nutcracker" on a record player, as she masks herself back into a ballet.   She begins to sway arms slowly but surely.  I feel she is on that endless dancefloor again.
Or was she ever?  Was she just imagining a time when she was free again?

About 6 months later I had lost this Angel to the dance away.  The sunsets would always come. Even in the darkest of storms.

She'd say on her last days " I want to Remember You, but I can't" " I want to know all children and tell them not to be afraid"

Now i'm in my 40's I see another older woman.  Struggling to remember most days.  Does she mimic this dance?  The mother I
always depend on.   Will I finally have to learn to be myself?  I wait for the sunset for hours by the river. Always curious if she is also looking for that same spinning sunset that seems endless and impeccable and immovable. Has it moved all these years?

Fidgeting with the jute twine.  Where can I go hide? 

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.


I Am Here Veronica by Pasithea Chan

I went to see you yesterday like I do every weekend, but like
Always we’ve just met over lunch, and I have to introduce
Myself to you and tell you all about me once again.

Hell is when you look at me doubtfully 
Even though I know you feel me trying to
Reach out to you and reassure you that
Even if you forget me I will never forget you.

Vivid fails to describe how witty and colorful you are in
Everything you do from how you show me your hairpins to how you
Reminisce the good days when you used to paint 
Out in the backyard and talk about how you met the love of your life.
Never did I imagine I would have to explain why he can’t come and see you
I have to find the strength to not grab you and tell you I miss you 
Cause it hurts so much to remind you that I love you with
All my heart and give you back some of the pieces you’ve lost.

Author’s Notes: Acrostic spelling I Am Here Veronica, inspired by the song “ Veronica” by Elvis Costello.