Poetry based on photography “The Lone Road to Moloka’I” from Maggs Vibo

(c)Maggs Vibo

A Lone Road on the Island of Moloka’i by Maggs Vibo

Our plane putters over patchwork pillows of rusty clay 
Celebrating the day's first rays at a coffee plantation

Top down, and around the bend the breeze kicks dust into our locks
We visit spaces of ancient mysteries and forgotten history
Not far from a phallic rock and a peninsula of exiled patients

Where jagged cliffs leap to kiss the sea
Towards desolate paths that stretch and smile at roosters crowing
as if echoing the road sign:

Aloha
Slow Down
This is Moloka'i

Untitled from Jacqueline Dempsey Cohen

Here the earth glows,  
breathes from its molten core
laying bare its soil 
reborn with radiant heat
This iron-rich clay beckons
hands to touch and feet to scuff
staining fingers, soothing toes
caressing knots of need.
Untouchable limbs frame the path
relentlessly muted 
urging travelers ever onward 
to mountains birthing fire.

@boscoedempsey 

A JOURNEY by Petar Penda

He took a fiery road
towards distant hills,
with wild shrubs on its sides
not to let him turn off the path.
This solitary journey led to
his self-knowledge of
the lack of something central
which permeated.

Copper Dust Road by Robin McNamara

I’m on a dust road
unburdened by winds /
unshackled by conformity. 

Humbolt of a cloud; 
wispy in the sky 
where the land lies 
with dust and rust 
and rock and ruin.

I saw a desert man he
was wearing wisdom of
an Indian spirit / I crave  
the aqua of his knowledge.

My face copper-rust from 
the swirling dust of the road  
to nowhere /
rattlesnakes and coyotes on
each side watching /
waiting patiently for hope to die.

ABOUT TO ACHIEVE by Spriha Kant 

Crossed many long tortuous paths
beaded with many thorns
showering under the sun’s anger
Every time, found me 
a bird flying
to touch the horizon.
Now
Cooler sun
Roaming clouds
Swaying thickets on both sides of the path
as if about to welcome me
to my destination
by showering me in water
from the skies.

(c) Spriha Kant

The Red Road by Elizabeth Cusack

Why is this road so red
And what makes it real?

Why is perception a tunnel?

Who decided our destination
And what do they know?

What is a bramble
And why is it dark?

Why are hedges bare
And why do thorns stick up in air?

Why do rabbits fall into lairs?

Everyone knows these skies will part
And our lives will not end here.

Beguiled by Lesley Curwen

Rust bloodroad flares to brightest crux
its russet track armed by hedges' dark
overed by long mynd and sailing cloud 

the eye swept back and back to fiery light 

its centred throb, perplexing Delphic shape. 
Witch trio aflame, altar to neon gods
or haloed mothers keening at a grave? 

She is on fire by Constance Bacchus

not going anywhere she is rambling on to the lake she stops off at one of two gas stations won’t eat anything but licorice candy extreme pop she spins out of control across so many hills the vultures at the top pay attention she has passed the other one watches the fire blend in arrives at the launch hardens her heart in the water you could say it fossilized you can say you miss it you can say anything you want it is cold doesn’t care breaks apart amongst milfoil

Inspired by Leonard Cohen lyric visual piece from Maggs Vibo  

Congrats! To Fevers of the Mind contributor Maggs Vibo 

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Margaret Viboolsittiseri aka Maggs Vibo 

Visual Poetry by Maggs Vibo: Drinking the Ash Pt 1 & 2 

Poem from Constance Bacchus : Memories from a party last 4th of July 

Poetry based on photography Challenge from Ankh Spice pt. 1 

Poetry based on Photography challenge from Ankh Spice pt. 3 

2 poems by Spriha Kant from Hard Rain Poetry Forever Dylan Anthology 

A Sylvia Plath inspired poetry showcase by Robin McNamara 

A Poetry Showcase from Robin McNamara 

August 2022 Poetry Showcase from Elizabeth Cusack 

Poetry by Petar Penda : Tiresias




poetry from Constance Bacchus: she set it to casual & everything

she set it to casual & everything

it took to make it the uterus humming the lion her piano inherited collected neglected her colorful flower feelings & were they hers now & did she want them she was free to ask cotton flowers in a bunch growing along the apron are those her colors pink muted blues stem green ragged ragged angel lace could she wear the memory & remember & remember would it even work would it even fit 

Bio: Constance Bacchus currently lives with her daughter in the Upper Grand Coulee of  Washington state. Her poetry can be found in various literary journals including Cirque Journal, Dreich Broad Review, Permafrost Magazine, Blue River Review and Outlook Springs. Ms. Bacchus has a new poetry book out called divorcing flowers (Alien Buddha Press, 2021) and another soon through Red Mare Press. Recently she won a prize from Yakima Coffeehouse Poets but doesn’t know what it is yet. And sometimes, she works at the library.

Poem from Constance Bacchus : Memories from a party last 4th of July

Untitled Poem by Constance Bacchus

from pixabay

they are only ducklings for a moment, mouths like shovels


as yet they cannot           see past 
the reeds                         float graceful 

islands sporadic in narrow 

channels                      the winds pick up
they say                       clouds in water

reflecting they echo     boulder columns  reflecting 

eagles              

                            dismissed lampreys & sturgeon 

hiding

                            trying to fly 

are drawn                     to swim

to the water      escape in the blues          
the wind            doesn’t reach

                                                       they aren’t left

& their colors                                 are not just 
of nature but        the wind explains 

the sun the sun    the           sharp acrid aroma of the fire
running                arms flailing to see them

entranced by        all the things they brag

Constance Bacchus currently lives with her daughter in the Upper Grand Coulee of  Washington state. Her poetry can be found in various literary journals including Cirque Journal, Dreich Broad Review, Permafrost Magazine, Blue River Review and Outlook Springs. Ms. Bacchus has a new poetry book out called divorcing flowers (Alien Buddha Press, 2021) and another soon through Red Mare Press. Recently she won a prize from Yakima Coffeehouse Poets but doesn’t know what it is yet. And sometimes, she works at the library.

Poem: “in an oregon forest w/peach wine coolers” by Constance Bacchus

glaze sky, brick, long cigarettes
                                                       for michael


mason    buff, tan   need

                                         it it  will not lie
                    smooth             

sm house                     glow, there
                 sm  slither

everywhere then                                crossing
                              everything  too

  else

                  rain                                    hibernates
                                   throws
holds

               sunrise 
                               half-blind
                                                    snow stays

I have to go back.

                           desperate           you
wait   
                  brisk               sage

 / snow & 
preserved,  face

edged  penny, penny                thoughts
                        some/someplace              lasting
fog heartbreak

Bio: Constance Bacchus currently lives with her daughter in the Upper Grand Coulee of  Washington state. Her poetry can be found in various literary journals including Cirque Journal, Dreich Broad Review, Permafrost Magazine, Blue River Review and Outlook Springs. Ms. Bacchus has a new poetry book out called divorcing flowers (Alien Buddha Press, 2021) and another soon through Red Mare Press. Recently she won a prize from Yakima Coffeehouse Poets but doesn’t know what it is yet. And sometimes, she works at the library.