Poetry Influenced by Bob Dylan & Tom Waits from Clive Gresswell


influenced by Tom Waits

In the switchblade of the night
The freezing jewel of barracuda delight
The tempting fate of failing light
The falling rhythm of dismay from this train
Of thought to obey the trunk is hidden in the back of time
The amulet is prised in line
The liberation a dance of swans
Some with beacon some with songs
A marching army of choruses
Bitter winds of self regret
From sands of time the tidal wave
The room of being the bloody knave
The haunting of the bloody cave
From which the nazi hunter gave
The Jew his freedom’s only grave
Atonement splendid in the light of days. 
(c) Geoffrey Wren


a tribute to Bob Dylan

over the land as time will tell
diminishing returns from all that is well
the flashing of lights, the ringing of bells
divisions of labour straight from the heart
the arrow that flies the snake in the grass
retelling stories from bibles and hymns
the mystical beating of mystical wings
sojourns fleetfoot with kith and with kin
feelings fleeing the prisons within
new wealth resisting new beginnings
startling from the heartening of the journeys within
the frozen moon, the idle wind encapsulating
the blissful scenes captured by the seeds of sin
& gathering storm’s senses to lock summer’s spring.



A Poetry Showcase from Victoria Leigh Bennett

From Pixabay

You’re Having Your Time of the Year, I Guess

(A Halloween Poem for an Ex) 10/6/2021

You valued me, you say, for my raven-winged remarks,
Which yet flew into the face of humor as funnier still;
And I, misunderstood to be a satirist all the time,
Instead of only now and again,
Spewed out toads and toadstools and all,
Just to keep you in a happy mood.

A bubbling witches’ brew of concocted relationships,
Of silly warts on a hedgehog’s nose,
I delved deep into the territories
Of the walking dead? No, but walking wounded,
Looking for your key,
That might fit the tune your soul was bound to screech in,
If only I could get it to sing.

Oh, you howled all right, and all night,
But never my secret name,
For how could you know what I had confided so openly,
When you were bound and determined
To find it hidden in the stump of a rotten tree,
Like a rotten tooth in a cankered mouth,
That it had to be something befouled and hidden?

You looked right through me, as if I had been a mirror,
And you casting a spell with your reflections,
Your recollections none of my business,
Not even if I were to save you from all this.
But why? You loved it, you’re a creature of darkness
By inclination, not out of an evil soul,
But from wanting so much to be
Thought fancy with fancy notions,
Carping about the cost of having naïve people around
Hurting everyone else by expecting the world to bubble rainbows.

You want me to hate things too, and I can’t do it,
So we come to the parting at the crossroads,
Where you make your deal with Ol’ Scratch,
And I, finally I, get to sit back and laugh
At one of the world’s biggest fools around.
No, my dear, the rain forest doesn’t make me happy
That there’s less of it every year,
And I don’t like it that there are refugee camps,
And I resent bad government and crowds of idiots
Who spread contagion because they’re too selfish
To be concerned.. But these aren’t the things that plague you,
You’re unhappy by trade.
I’m unhappy by conviction when I am,
And there’s the difference.
Have a happy Halloween!

The Intensest Fever of Sorrow Sings Golden to the Ocean

It is hard to decide if this day, this moment 
Is the beginning of sorrow 
Or only its latest turn, 
It seems so to have been harbored unspoken 
And hidden in the breast, 
Like a lump in the throat 
That comes on gradually into awareness, 
A fever that never really was real 
Until the moment when you elected 
To think, “Yes, I think I feel a cold coming on,” 
And then you are sick. 
And you take to your bed, 
And weather it through, 
And wonder if you had stayed up, 
And had not said “hello, old friend” 
To the pesky virus 
If it might not have left you alone this time. 

But sorrow comes, like a bell, like a ball,
Ringing in angry peals that roll
Down town streets with intensest toll,
Why so suddenly there, and loud and insistent
That previously was mute and lost, now golden and singing?
Deep in the archipelagos of your mind
Winding through the islands,
Taking its time,
Going on the bright stream of painful waters,
The current that hidden, winds and propels
Your deepest thoughts forward, toward
The piloting ocean where they can be seen,
Sensed, for what they are,
A poisoned trafficking
From the winding-through sands
Of round, dotted headlands
Where mercy has no hand.

A Modern Bean Sidhe (Banshee’s Call)

Wander now, friend, near my hearthside, 
That no hearthside truly is, 
Hurt it is, and song-repelling, 
Sad and lonely, botched and slow. 

Would it be, if there were fire there 
Better for us, warmer tuned? 
With the crackling, leaping flamings 
There for us to eye, be joy’d?

“Hearthside” is the word, acknowledged, 
Many have no such a thing, 
But we all can feel the comfort 
From the notion, any clime. 

Even in warm South Pacific, 
At the evening, fires are lit, 
And the people linger thereby, 
Eyes bright with the jumping lights.

So I say, as poet-host here,
I can offer only grief,
If you find a sorrow hearthsome,
I can give you that, at least.

Injured, upstaged by my pain, then
I can tell a sorry tale
That might make you feel more pensive,
And, though even so, be glad.

Glad we are, sometimes in grieving,
Meditations’ mournful stances
‘Round the selfsame burning brandings
Find their places, trouble’s reach.

I have no quirky, frightening tales,
No monsters, ghosts, or shadows here,
Except the mind’s own fateful chasms,
Where to fall is just expected.

Nor loves are here, nor lovers’ pinings.
All of that has been expunged quite
By the starker ice’s gleamings
That, resulting, follows next,
A sheer winter to fall’s frost.

For you know that once you’ve passed thus
All the soulful long suspirings,
All that’s left is the sheer essence
Of the suffering, fleshless bone.

So, wander close, faint traveller,
Neat and near come to my hearthside,
In the end of day’s cold gleaming,
Let me chill and sap your strength.

Limning a Line

I had not the right tools for my longing
No pen or fine lead would have completed me
The boundless was all around
What good would a stick oar have been?
And I can’t swim, I said
To myself, or no, really to no one.
But that wasn’t true for most waters,
Just this, this big thing,
This insurmountable swell of blue nothing-much
All around me.
How would I paint it, what thin-haired brush
Would have accommodated my need to draw it out?
For drawing a blue surge of longing
Would be drawing it out.
In waves drifting into more blue,
I floated now, a balloon lost in space or
A bark lost in translation
Dragged away in the undertow
For lack of a means of expression,
Equal to feeling the ocean
But not to escaping the rip tide.

*Author’s note: Limning a Line was inspired by a picture from Oormila Vijayakrishnan Pralad on social media.

Bio: Victoria Leigh Bennett, (she/her).  Greater Boston, MA area, born WV.  Ph.D., English & Theater.  Website: creative-shadows.com.  In-Print; “”Poems from the Northeast,” 2021, @olympiapub.  Out-of-Print but on website: “Scenes de la Vie Americaine (en Paris),” 2022, @thealienbuddha.  Between Aug. 2021-Sept. 2022, Victoria will have been published at least 23 times in:  Roi Faineant Literary Press, Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art, Barzakh Magazine, The Alien Buddha Press, Amphora Magazine, The Madrigal Press, Discretionary Love, Winning Writers (requested for 2 newsletters), Cult of Clio.  Victoria writes Fiction/Flash/CNF/Poetry.  She is the organizer behind the poets’ collective @PoetsonThursday on Twitter along with Alex Guenther & Dave Garbutt.  Twitter: @vicklbennett.  Victoria is emotionally and ocularly disabled.

Poems inspired by Pablo Neruda by Jackie Chou

Love Song of the Unloving

I know you love me, you say.
How are you so sure, I wonder.
I suppose I do, 
as I love nothing else.

I don't love to write,
don't love bird songs,
the shards of sunlight
that spill through the blinds
all day.

So it could be true,
that I love you,
relatively speaking,
that compared to a dandelion,
a sparrow, a tree,
I like you a little more.

This small preference, 
for the sight, the sound, 
the scent of you,
accumulates daily, nightly,
hourly, monthly, yearly,
like drops of honey
add up to syrupy love,
which one tastes in one’s heart.

Ah, love,
you are sweeter than stardust,
shinier than dew.


Let me know if you still love me,
like I do you.

If you do I shall take liberty
to revisit our abandoned past,
continue our story where we left off.
I shall reserve an entire page
to store your ever-burning smile.

However, if you no longer love me,
also let me know.

I shall respectfully remove you 
from my heart, my dreams,
like a picture in a frame.
I shall discard memories of us
like long expired roses
inside a vase.

I shall not flip back the pages,
but will write a brand new story
without you in it,
but a different hero.

I'm Not a Fair Weather Friend

I love you 
not only when you're smiling
the sun kissing your dimpled cheeks 
but when sorrow depresses your lips
and the moon clouds your countenance
I love you in gold and silk
but won't think less of you
if there are holes in your shirt 
For it is not in sweetness
but in the salts of everyday life
that I'm here for you

Bio Note: I write free verses, rhyming poems, and Japanese short form poetry, some of which saw the light of day in journals like Alien Buddha Zine, Spillwords, and Cajun Mutt Press, Fevers of the Mind Press. I am also a Jeopardy fan.

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 


*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 Nick Cave from hjarta

From hjarta (on Instagram) name means ‘heart in Icelandic’

Into Your Arms

Home and space
A moment for my head to clear at last
We’re moving together
Hearts beating fast
Sounds of love spinning in sweet circles of sensuality.

You say we are serendipity personified
Spinning skywards,
I know I’m falling but too scared to say
I want to play you a song to tell you how I feel 
You say.

But my head is playing a song already
Into my arms, Oh Lord
Into my arms, Oh Lord
Into my arms, Oh Lord
Into my arms.
I’m heading down that glorious downwards spiral, 
And yet upwards, out of control
An out of body experience that hasn’t been present for oh so long, 
My head keeps playing that same sweet song.

Our clear cool river
We’re drowning in our own space and time
With lightness of touch
On sensitive skin
Collective warmth…our closeness
Together we merge as one

We’re orbiting in our glorious galaxy
Dancing to our own collective symphony
We move to the music
That plays in our heads
Sensual sounds with rhythm and flow
Orbiting virtual worlds below

We lay at peace, 
Our place of sanctuary 
And notes that reverberate again in my head
Into my arms
Oh Lord
Into my arms
Oh Lord – into my arms.