2 new poems by Kushal Poddar : Drinking with a Priest & Rabbit, Dance

Wine, Drink, Alcohol, Glasses, Glassware

photo from Pixabay

Drinking With a Priest

Later the priest moots,
"Some dying men stares at me,
holds their gaze as if 
by the power death has vested in them 
they can see through me and my faith
and how I think about something else,
perchance about tomorrow's lunch.
In the life's Venn diagram death is ∩,
and at that point being and beyond intersects.
A man can see or accept the truth of his
lifelong blindness."

The beers in front of us sucks the warmth
of the room. They taste acerbic. 
Through the orange translucency
we can see eachother, a little distorted.

I wish I could see the words compadre
expects to hear, but this is not that day.


Rabbit, Dance

No trace of the magician,
a shot glass of jazz
left full on the table,
I decide to convey the bad news
to the organisers
later,

and shake my head;
the rabbit maze-running inside
won't fall out. 
I pick up the glass from the table.
Now I dance with the shadow,
a rabbit in me.
The grass of silence undulates.
The audience waiting out there
sounds like an orchestra of crickets
in the befouled greenroom.


3 new poems by Kushal Poddar : “Cabin Song” “Earlier””The O of the Sky”


Poetry Showcase from Kushal Poddar

A Poetry Series by Kushal Poddar “Hiraeth Series”

Check out Kushal’s new book through IceFloe Press.

5 poems inspired by Leonard Cohen by Robert Frede Kenter (Before I Turn Into Gold Day)

art by Geoffrey Wren (c)

(Passing Through) (for L. Cohen)

Crossing laneway between old colonial buildings,

remember reading about L. Cohen discussion of discipline

in his family before (leaving) his shoes neatly beneath the bed,

lined in rows the Westmount childhood house of  his

textile-merchant father.

Blossoms on the Plateau

      scatter towards St. Laurent. 

At a café, grab a late coffee, Mile End.

 – Elated. Artwork to hang at Gallery ___  of

new punk energy competing with empty lots.

A poet encountered Cohen right near here  chaotically sprawled

on a bench, static hat, shins crossed, 

institutionally bemused.

My father knew clothing, my father knew hats.

In every secret life,

Danceclatter   spirit  memories, 

Reanimated, the dead  no longer leave

Gather  under pelican shaped eaves

Refugees  –  taking leave, returning quickly as they arrive–

By harbour,  ships,  disembarking planes

At official hearings  destinies decided  by immigration board

 on appeal. O, CanadaWe  who betray everything

 –what are

We doing?

Searching landscapes  beyond mythic voice, 

first languages, anthologized wards

of mothertongue,  come alive

to holy gathering,   catchments of double-rainbows

above camera shop,

on The Main,    to St. Catherine’s Street, 

expanded histories,

Banging hammers,

gauntlet to throw  down   bargaining  for life

observing, photographing,

the Ascending of the

descending notes,

at the gated freight elevators

in a cessation of rain,  orchestral loft curtains

and a cacophony of rattling glass

in choreographic time,

threaded hum of industrial needles,  machines,

for fancy fabric, the manufacture of

ghost suits in factories.

 Did the street lineaments of longing  shape

an arc to the sun in melodic time,

Word became difference

– without a promised pound of flesh —

each visioning, wisteria proposing

darker awakening.  To bow and Curtsy.  The

– Oars of the St. Lawrence remaining as if

 Hallucinatory – at a farther reach –

  Prayer,  

Continuance.  Swirling,

persuasive designs for some new disguise.

                     In rupture             rapture————

 Graffitied,

the needle in thread, the lacuna.

 Stitches of erasure,

(by attendant lay  kept at bay)

  a homonym in nominal  space

Ofidentity

            en/closures.

When You Carry the Flag of Surrender

We aim for song. 
Tilt to embrace.
First embouchure, embrace of red, then blue, 
a burning white beneath the stair corrodes coruscating struts.

You waited to come back too long,
already threat gave you a name.
Beneath eyelids, the mourning bruised fifth notes.
Minor armies, advancing packs of card sharks,
upon arrival, slight a flock of black birds, ravens,
and your sister’s husband’s brutal conundrum commences. 

It’s a war against nature.
We guessed wrong.

Planning for a siege at a craps table
along the loneliest strip 
where hummingbirds dance a devious fandango,
on with nightclub nightmares. 
You lifted up with urgency,
the urge, to surrender,
to carry the flag of surrender.

 (And safely, the albatross of snow
glides ascending beyond Blake, 
rising to the Gate of Hell
Wings shorn with fire).
The yellowing book, it’s pages.

If you are tired enough, you will fall asleep,
fall into the arms of a boulder,
spreading the night moth’s wings around you.
On the ocean, the burning partisan’s ship 
sinks behind another neon moon.


Affair

Between the odd and even
I shall be a tailor, sewing pockets
with a wretched hand. 
A corruption,  failure 
of the terms of service. 

I gave them nothing, willingly,
I gave them nothing, undue dress.
A shaky signature,  handshake
under duress, erasing 
distressed seams.

The Committee of Horsemen
and their capital wives
Flying to a ceremonial, under
cloak, the war’s convoy’s coverings

Blanket the skies with parachutes.

I shall be the uninvited guest,
these twisted hands trembling, 
winter branches at calico windows, 
draperies.

Obscene broncho –
of obstreperous lineage.
Startling twilight of starlings.
Sinking Hesperus. 

Rain

1.

The plane goes down
It goes down

It makes the sun
turn a pale green
a pale green

Packages of jealous
nauseous waitresses

That know no limits
know no limits

In the charnel house
in the charnel house


2.

Confusion of smoke
Bodies alight
by the fairgrounds
All the kisses you can 
punch for a dollar twenty
five don’t be shy step
Right up 


3.

Bop bop  bopping
for the wormy wordy words
worthy apple of the jaundice
eye  another round 
of Government Propaganda
For the Shiny Happy People

4.

Free line dances
for the people
By the acid river backside
pouring out toxic sludge


5.

Captains of Productive 
Industrial stewardship
on sacred ground whose
ground sacred check
the grainy almanac
in the gun-sites of the 
Military Industrial complex


6.

We capture captions 
speak in thought balloons
Sometimes arrogant
overtalking even
The gentlest Master
slips outside benign
speaking behind a billboard
for mouth wash 
cattle in the fields, lowing

7. 
“It will rain soon,”
Mommy says to 
her six year old in Khakis
amidst the smoke beneath
the chocking ruins -- rains
down historical memory


8.
Insects rub their tentacled principal 
legs together make the beat
of some new music written
by the Karaoke Moon

9. 

We can count 
all of the ways 
that what was once here 
no longer is.

 Using an app with magic markers
 we make asemic marks 
on photographic paper.

 Is there hope of change?
 Are we impassioned? 

Poisoned?   What lies beyond
belief is belief in 
our own ability to change 
out of clothing

make the New Man
look possible 
available
fallible as Merchandise.

1985 (A Drum)

A Leonard Cohen concert 
New York, Carnegie Hall, 

At performance end, more people
than one might imagine prepare for Rapture. 

From handbags & from under
winter coats they rush towards the stage.

A price of admittance.
Recognizable is ritual.

My old friend, with whom I attend,
I shall never see again, while,

Field Commander Cohen,
Working for the Yankee Dollar,

Takes Manhattan. 
Graciously bowing,

catching in light and furious,  bouquets
of cornflowers and roses. The clarion call,
 
in spot lit time trumpet flowers 
opening up pollen in a thousand-handed balcony.

Twitter: @frede_kenter @icefloe_P

Instagram: @r.f.k.vispocityshuffle

Poems 2, 3 & 4 are inspired by Cohen’s poetry book “The Energy of Slaves”

4 poems by Robert Frede Kenter published in Fevers of the Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020

Poem for a Russian Grandmother in Exile by Robert Frede Kenter w/ A Painting by Moira J. Saucer

4 poems from Robert Frede Kenter in Avalanches in Poetry

A Spotlight on IceFloe Press : Poetry, Art, Photography Creativity Sponge

4 poems from Fevers of the Mind Poets of 2020 by Moira J Saucer

2 new poems by David L O’Nan on IceFloe Press (click links) today “Those Hazels, they Slice” and “Living in This Toxic Coalmine”

All of the poems (revised) from Avalanches in Poetry for Leonard Cohen Week by David L O’Nan

Wonderful Artwork from Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen by artist/writer Geoffrey Wren

Poem “It’s Getting Darker” by John W. Leys in Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen

Avalanches in Poetry 2 entries by Peter Hague : “I Did Not Want it Darker””Between Leonards” “Following Leonard”

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Marcelle Newbold

with Marcelle Newbold:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Marcelle: I started recording the everyday, usually on my iphone, during maternity leave with my son. It was such an overwhelming time- the extreme sleep deprivation, as well as being new to parenting. I used the page (screen) as someone to share with. Looking back at those notes now the range of emotions is astonishing – some have turned into poems, some not.

In 2018 I attended poetry evening classes run by the generous Mab Jones, she was the one that really got me ‘started’, she is so passionate and enthusiastic. That lead to a weekly group run by Claire Syder, which I still attend now and wouldn’t be without.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Marcelle: I still attend lots of workshops (online in these covid times), which I find really inspiring – learning about different approaches to writing, the different personalities. I have recently had the pleasure of reconnecting with the fabulous Elizabeth Horan and am now inseparable from the prose poem.

I live in South Wales and am surrounded by wonderful landscape and lyrical welsh poets – historic and living. These are a constant influence – to infuse the local into the universal.

Q3: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer/artist?

Marcelle: Reading Tony Hoagland’s work, it is so affecting, I knew I wanted to learn to be able to connect like that. I adore the way he expresses the magicness of the everyday.

Q4: Who has helped you most with writing?

Marcelle: I regularly attend a workshopping group with Rhian Edwards, Tracey Rhys, Emily Cotterill, Susie Wildsmith and Emily Blewitt, who are all fantastic writers and thoughtful readers. The wonderful Christina Thatcher has been my mentor for almost 2 years now and her steady influence and insight I greatly value.

It is a privilege to be able to read hundreds of poetry submissions in my position as poetry editor for Nightingale and Sparrow, this has really informed my own writing persuasions. In 2020 I worked on a Pandemic Poetry anthology – the submissions were astounding in their breadth and intensity, it was a honour to read for. Editing has definitely helped my ability to objectively assess my own writing.

The twitter poetry community is always generous, I particularly enjoy the inclusive home that Matthew Smith has created around his Black Bough Poetry micro-poem world.

Q5: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing/art? Have any travels away from home influence your work?

Marcelle: I grew up and went to school in Cardiff, capital of Wales, before moving on graduation, via London, to Portsmouth on the south coast of England. I have been very lucky always living close to the sea and hills. My parents love the sea and we would often daytrip to visit, in all its different forms, in all types of weather.
I trained as an Architect and have been lucky enough to travel to Australia & New Zealand, North America & Canada, and Western Europe. I love well laid out European urban spaces and can recall routes and places easily, which I often dream about walking through, and they end up on the page.

Q6: What do you consider the most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far to you?

Marcelle: I enjoy writing about the everyday, highlighting the precious normal, which can easily be overlooked with our hectic lives.

Q7: Favorite activities to relax?

Marcelle: I love making dresses for my young daughter from found materials (scarves from charity shops, my dad’s old shirts), wind bathing! and reading with continuous cups of tea.

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem/writing of yours or others?

Marcelle: From ‘Weeping willow’ my poem published in Indigo Dreams’ ‘Dear Dylan, an anthology after Dylan Thomas’:
She knew: memory as a trick, there’s only now.
So they bathe, drink, exert, worship – keep not
to themselves and believe in divine cultivation.

Q9: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?

Marcelle: Not really! Watch this space, first pamphlet coming soon (hopefully)!

Links:

Twitter: @marcellenewbold

https://icefloepress.net/dwelling-a-poem-by-marcelle-newbold/

https://www.perhappened.com/shoppinglistmarcellenewbold.html

A Spotlight on IceFloe Press : Poetry, Art, Photography Creativity Sponge

logo by Cathy Daley

IceFloe Press is one of the most unique, creative endeavors for poetry these days. With challenges, specific themes of poetry, an all inclusive collective of voices that need to be heard.

Founded by Robert Frede Kenter (Eic), Co-editor Moira J. Saucer, other editors and chief contributors to the site are Ankh Spice, Elisabeth Horan, Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau & Jakky Bankong-Obi

Some of their contributions to Fevers of the Mind can be linked below. 4 poems from Robert Frede Kenter in Avalanches in Poetry An Interview with Robert Frede Kenter of Icefloe Press

4 poems from Fevers of the Mind Poets of 2020 by Moira J Saucer

Some poems from Elisabeth Horan in Fevers of the Mind Issue 1 (2019)

6 poems from Elisabeth Horan

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Jakky Bankong-Obi

5 Poems by Ankh Spice : That which can be made visible, Hold the river, Feeding the koi, Act like you were never for sale, & Hathor’s gift

Holiday Interlude by Ankh Spice from Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen

IceFloe is known for great art contributions, poetry contributions & photography. Some links below to a few you just have to read or see.

https://icefloepress.net/peach-delphine/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/01/28/five-poems-by-peach-delphine/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/05/12/two-poems-by-david-hanlon/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/12/09/three-poems-by-jenny-mitchell/

Poem for a Russian Grandmother in Exile by Robert Frede Kenter w/ A Painting by Moira J. Saucer

https://icefloepress.net/2020/12/04/glass-kelp-a-poem-by-anindita-sengupta-w-an-image-by-vera-schmittberger/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/12/24/a-reunion-or-a-resurrection-a-poem-and-three-images-by-kushal-poddar/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/11/30/happy-birthday-twice-a-pandemitime-poem-and-three-images-by-lynne-sachs/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/12/01/i-am-care-a-poem-by-linnet-macintyre-w-a-painting-by-m-s-evans/

https://icefloepress.net/2020/03/03/five-poems-by-david-o-nan/

https://icefloepress.net/excerpts-from-pandemic-party-moira-j-saucer/

https://icefloepress.net/dwelling-a-poem-by-marcelle-newbold/

https://icefloepress.net/two-poems-by-chelsea-dingman/

https://icefloepress.net/a-love-letter-to-me-a-vispo-by-maggs-vibo/

https://icefloepress.net/two-poems-by-bola-opaleke/

https://icefloepress.net/three-poems-by-catherine-graham/

https://icefloepress.net/two-poems-by-kari-flickinger-w-four-art-works-by-m-s-evans/

https://icefloepress.net/six-poems-from-new-disease-streets-by-david-l-onan-w-a-digital-collage-by-robert-frede-kenter/

https://icefloepress.net/two-poems-loop-year-postmarked-plague-and-an-image-by-kushal-poddar/

https://icefloepress.net/elliot-north/

https://icefloepress.net/pandemic-politics-3-poems/

https://icefloepress.net/three-poems/

https://icefloepress.net/when-aurelia-noa-learned-to-sing-two-poems-by-kushal-poddar/

https://icefloepress.net/loss-a-poem-and-drawings-by-moira-j-saucer/

https://icefloepress.net/in-a-starless-sky-i-find-memories-out-of-a-cancerous-moon-a-prose-poem-by-sodiq-oyekanmi/

https://icefloepress.net/three-poems-rose-knapp/

https://icefloepress.net/survival-from-the-ruins-of-ashes-a-prose-poem-by-ariyo-ahmad/

https://icefloepress.net/for-the-foreign-friend-who-asked-me-why-africans-write-sad-poems-a-poem-by-idowu-odeyemi/

https://icefloepress.net/a-poem-after-lana-del-reys-cinnamon-girl-a-poem-by-adeola-juwon/

https://icefloepress.net/so-long-marianne-and-good-riddance-bitter-biased-thoughts-on-art-romance-and-portrait-of-a-lady-on-fire-an-essay-by-kaye-nash/

https://icefloepress.net/today-i-will-write-a-poem-and-name-it-after-your-beads-an-essay-poem-by-henneh-kweku/

https://icefloepress.net/knowing/

https://icefloepress.net/a-mother-of-poetry-an-elegy-by-suzi-x/

https://icefloepress.net/postmarked-quarantine-a-book-of-poems-by-kushal-poddar/

https://icefloepress.net/kyla-houbolts-dawns-fool-a-microchap/

https://icefloepress.net/boy-bestiary/

https://icefloepress.net/0rder-audacity-of-form/

https://icefloepress.net/order-skeleton-of-a-ruined-song/

%d bloggers like this: