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




Inspired by Leonard Cohen lyric visual piece from Maggs Vibo

(c)Maggs Vibo

Maggs Vibo (aka Margaret Viboolsittiseri) a visual poet/artist who has had several art & poetry pieces included in Fevers of the Mind online & in print anthologies. Maggs also designed the Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview series logo, and the photo which is the cover art to my book “The Famous Poetry Outlaws are Painting Walls and Whispers” is from a photo that Maggs photographed.

Congrats! To Fevers of the Mind contributor Maggs Vibo

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

Photography from Maggs Vibo : Lone Road on Island of Moloka’i

I Don’t Need Anesthesia: Photo Art & Poetry by Maggs Vibo

Visual Poetry by Maggs Vibo : the Year of the Ox

I Don’t Need Anesthesia: Photo Art & Poetry by Maggs Vibo

Congrats! To Fevers of the Mind contributor Maggs Vibo

Maggs Vibo (aka Margaret Viboolsittiseri) a visual poet/artist who has had several art & poetry pieces included in Fevers of the Mind online & in print anthologies. Maggs also designed the Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview series logo, and the photo which is the cover art to my book “The Famous Poetry Outlaws are Painting Walls and Whispers” is from a photo that Maggs photographed.

Maggs is a veteran and recently had attended The Library of Congress Artist Showcase event (at the Thomas Jefferson building)as part of a group exhibition for artist. Her work with Fevers of the Mind and other poetry journals was included as a teaching aid at the Library. Here are some photos from this event and a podcast with Maggs “Leave No Veteran Behind”

Margaret Viboolsittiseri (aka Maggs Vibo) works in print, broadcast, special events, glitch media, and online. She is a contributor for Poem Atlas and has experimental art in the winnow
magazine, Coven Poetry, Ice Floe Press, The Babel Tower Notice Board, ang(st), The Wombwell Rainbow. Recent anthologies include Poem Atlas ‘aww-struck’, Steel Incisors, Fevers of the
Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020 (January, 2021) and ‘My teeth don’t chew on shrapnel’: an anthology of poetry by military veterans (Oxford Brookes, 2020). She tweets @maggsvibo
and her website is https://www.maggsvibo.com/

Heartbreak by the Seashore by David L O’Nan (inspired by Audrey Hepburn)

(c) Maggs Vibo

Heartbreak by the Seashore

We met and departed by that same seashore house.
When you first looked at me, and laughed
in a shy, yet very conversational.
A slight flirtatious touch to my shoulder
and I was in love,
the sun reflected blades of energy across
where my heart lit on fire, and my soul dropped to
the sands for you to pickup, and take ownership.
In your ticklish grin, I could do nothing but be mesmerized
by your eyes.
We’d walk the sands, and one Sunday evening
as the glow of the moon shun on the waters
I said “You look just like a movie star from movies I’ve yet seen”
She said “Yeah, they say I look a little like Audrey, you know Audrey Hepburn?” In the most charming demure laugh I’ve ever heard.
I wasn’t quite sure until I researched, and there they were
just like her,
and her eyes were dancing back to me.
just like her,
her voice just swayed me away like a fool,
For some reason I felt if nothing was impossible, is this possible?
For hours and days on end
I could hear her music boxes playing
faeries and ballerinas, music notes in the air for me to grab
Was I living a myth?
Was she the reincarnation of her, sitting by black and white dollhouses aligned by jasmine?
And the Summer faded, and so did the Fall,
the Winter was as gusty as ever, and Spring had its way with the flowers. Creating new universes and felt bloodless, and used by the sins, and used by the lies, and abused by the skies.
In the rain, I picked the apples from the trees nearby
While in thought the lakes I would walk by were suddenly velvet
with rose petals stuffed in fairy tales, inside the polyphenols.
I would drink them in if I must, to make this last.
I began to chant her eyes in magical chants, offering gifts to the Gods to bring her my love, and her love to me.
I wait as she has married, I want to just see the eyes again.
Days later her reflection whips its way back to my soul.
A walk down the city sidewalk, and “I say hey,
do you remember me from my Summer getaway?”
She says “Of course, you’re the one who didn’t know about Audrey”
Suddenly I felt lost, dumb, and obviously not the only shy boy who was in love with her eyes.
I sat in love, by myself in thought.
In my city, lost and wondering if i’d ever see her again.
Will I ever feel that touch to my shoulder, the smile that erased my feeling of failure for just a little while.
I saw her again, after a lover’s spat. She was alone , awaiting a reprieve she felt.
No longer was she full of energy, but more like me
Depressed, confused and like me, lost.
in rain storms she was dressed more like a woman who left a fashion ball than living without a home under thundercracks.
We went back to my sorry 1-bedroom, and talked for the first real time about her, she spoke of a failed love back home, and
she finally took the time to understand me, and I pretended not to understand everything about her that i’ve built up in my mind.
We were spinning jars on the floor, playing Miles Davis as the rain pellets smacked the window.
We were picnics in the park, I’d stare as the strawberry leaves her lips. Entranced by her eyes.
We were hand in hand watching the tiny finches flapping in the puddles.
Leaving soundwaves of songs in the ripples.
Praying hope into our souls.
We were watching the magnolias flatten by the sun rot, as we sat
on stacks of Alfalfa Hay.
I knew she had to get back home after the many days of finally knowing love. She still had this Golden ring on her finger that began to shine like dishwater yellow to her.
How did the narcissism of the highway man, the traveling heart breaker not fall in love with the eyes, the smile, the gentle walks, the woman inside that fully understood the man I would become?
How did he get so lucky to have his fairy tale become true?
I hope to one day be back by that seashore and see her walk back
in a Holly Golightly divorcee cackle, and have arms ready for mine.
Even in the fog of her leaving, her eyes
The wailing of spirits from the ocean, her eyes
Sitting atop a reflection of an empty wineglass, and her eyes…
The secrecy of love note trails that lead to the top of her stairs,
while he was away.
The same trails in which her tears would drop when someone wasn’t looking as she took walks by herself, like I.
I await with the wind chimes.
I await in the milk white flowers that rest in the wind.
I await sitting the lonely mask in the corner of her eyes.
I plant her a garden, and believe in tomorrow.
To share our black and white mirrorball. I’m just a pebble wanting to be picked up to be swept away.
Forever in her palm,
and forever her eyes.

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now!

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

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today!

Pop Art #3 Yolk by Maggs Vibo

Margaret Viboolsittiseri (aka Maggs Vibo) works in print, broadcast, special events, glitch media, and online. She is a contributor for Poem Atlas and has experimental art in the winnow
magazine, Coven Poetry, Ice Floe Press, The Babel Tower Notice Board, ang(st), The Wombwell Rainbow. Recent anthologies include Poem Atlas ‘aww-struck’, Steel Incisors, Fevers of the
Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020 (January, 2021) and ‘My teeth don’t chew on shrapnel’: an anthology of poetry by military veterans (Oxford Brookes, 2020). She tweets @maggsvibo
and her website is https://www.maggsvibo.com/

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