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 Jun 22
dk
I long for cobbled stone roads
Dim lit stone stairs climbing with ivy
Up buildings built by Romans
adorned with flowers and intricacies
Details honed by Craftsman
Delicately drafting
the landscapes we live in
Unlike the concrete utilitarian steel and glass pillars and highways
Their plight on our journeys in life
To benefit the productivity
but detriment the soul
To capitalize no matter what the cost
Leaving me longing to nap
in a park with Parisians
For fresh baked baguettes on a bench with a bottle of burgundy
For mosaics made of glass in cathedrals built centuries ago
Over billboards and neon lights,
the flashing and screaming
products for purchase
Let me get my dinner after the people have had their naps.
Let it be an occasion
not a necessity to get by
Let's walk the city after 10
while the sky is still bright
Waiting for the dim street lights
to light our way back
To another day of walking
cobble ****** streets
 Jun 18
Anais Vionet
I’m Mz Mortenson, if you please.
I dispensed with the charade
when I went to my grave.

Life can be tricky
if you’re pretty.

My life was a role,
I couldn’t always control.

How unaware the dumb bombshell seemed.
Still, I was labeled the obscene Norma Jeane.

in reel life’s small doses,
the role was emotionally corrosive,
merely etching away my fragile identity.

In real life it proved erotically explosive
destroying my privacy, serenity, and sanity.

I thrilled in some 29 films, I took a few pills,
was a plaything for mobsters and tabloid mills.

When I started a fling with the president,
did I have any idea what I was up against?

Some free advice - beware of counterintelligence.

Homicide, suicide - what does it matter
- which one is sadder?

I knew I’d always be there for you, sensuously beckoning,
at 24 frames per second, like an eternal flame - flickering.
Of course, Norma Jeane Mortenson’s stage name was Marylin Monroe

Written for the 'Lost Poetry from History Challenge' contest.
Where you write a poem in the voice of an historical figure. URL:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132874/lost-poetry-from-history-challenge/

To me, she seemed to be white-knuckle bae - experiencing the highest of highs and the lowest of lows all at once. It must have seemed like magical realism or living a psychological thriller.

16:00.06-17
 Jun 6
Donall Dempsey
!YOU AGAIN!

Your summer dress
comes to rest

upon the balcony

hung up on a thin
wire hanger

(an exotic bird)        

it cries for your body
weeps at being

parted from you
& your curves

a pool of tears
collects at its hem

as longingly it dreams of
the touch of your skin

asleep now
in the sun.

Later that evening
frightened by the approaching storm

it tries to escape
the clamour of its hanger

almost flies off
beyond the reach of my hands

run away to sea
seeking for further horizons.

I calm it
tame its panic

fold it tenderly

carry it like a dreaming
child

lay it to rest
at the foot of the bed

where all night long it sleeps
at your feet

awaiting your footstep

the sunshine
of being

you
again.
 Jun 2
Thomas W Case
She doesn't understand her
biology.
Her need for extra attention.
Her desire to
chirp and meow
constantly, and raise her
**** in the air.

She gazes out the
window with
longing in her
golden eyes.
Her calls through the
screen bring no
visitors.
Little lonely orphan.

She sits with me while
I write at my large
maple desk.
She swats at the
purple orchid.
It drives her batty.
I've been there.
Lost in the
smell and taste of
flowers.
She wanders over to
the Starry Night
painting and looks
dizzy at the sky.
She lifts her **** in
the air and stutter steps
rapidly with her
back paws.

When I got her and
her sister, I thought they
had *****.
I named him (her)
Bukowski.
She comes to the
name
and seems to like it.
Pray for me.
Buk's in heat.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
Here is a link to my recently published Limited Edition book titled, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
 May 8
Riz Mack
I find myself
without a rhythm
a lack of lyrics
back in a prison
I thought
I'd escaped out the back
but the fact is
I backtracked
back by my own volition
and wishing
on familiar chains
to be free of dusty days
deep breath
inhale
choke on hope
and blow
https://soundcloud.com/rgzeezy/pillarsalt
 Apr 28
Thomas W Case
Piano notes drift in the
rainy evening,
like sadness from a
clock.
You were the color
in my dreams.
The paint on my
canvas.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgXtR-Z6G9s
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems.
never stop believing to make your dreams come true
all you ever need is to believe in you
life will go your way if you want it to
everything you wish for is waiting there for you

never think of giving up  dont think of giving in
fight for what you want in life until the day you win
always have belief live life day by day
then everything you wish for is just a dream away
LC
she moves in light
while I'm awake
renders mercy
for hearts that ache

she waits in patient
silent hope
providing comfort
a cushion to cope

she has no thoughts
of giving in
slows my breath
when air gets thin

as I await
the final tide
she allows a glimpse
of the other side

she is the reason
this soul can rhyme
with every season
her gift of time
LC is a reference to my Mother; Elsie, who passed many years ago but is always with me
 Feb 10
Zywa
I have woken up,

where am I? In an ocean --


of sleeping silence?
Personal transmission-composition "Occam ocean" for orchestra (2015, Éliane Radigue), performed in the Organpark on February 3rd, 2024, by ensemble ONCEIM (L'Orchestre de Nouvelles Créations, Expérimentations, et Improvisations Musicales) and others - @cello

Collection "org anp ark" #353
Dancing on the tightrope of a breakdown
I wonder just how good my balance is,
I teeter on the wire one careful footstep at a time.
I don’t look down; the solid concrete waits for me below
I can’t look left or right for fear I’ll lean and tip.
I focus on the other side but it’s not clearly seen-
Is it my eyes or has a fog rolled in to trick me-
To leave me stranded and precarious.
I’m developing a cramp and one toe has gone numb
But still I slide the other foot along
And grip with every particle of strength I own.
I have to make it all the way across
There is no net below to save me.
But the other platform seems so far away
And my umbrella feels as though it’s made of lead.
Why is there no cheering from the crowd-
I guess they’re fascinated by the clowns down there
And never ever bothered to look up.
ljm
A revision of something I wrote in 2005. I'm better at it now.
~
February 2024
HP Poet: Jamadhi Verse
Age: 39
Country: USA


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, J Verse. Please tell us about your background?

Jamadhi Verse: "I was born and on and off raised in a small town in Northern New Jersey, about 25 minutes outside of New York City. My childhood was a constant, unstable state of motion. As a little girl I was always changing homes, schools, and states every year, dissolving possessions, driving back and forth across the country in all directions on the open, endless road. Always beginning new chapters that required the courage to say hello and the inevitability of saying goodbye. The only thing that remained familiar and everlasting was the acceptance and necessity to repeatedly let go of everything and everyone and have faith that there was nothing that could not be regained in some new form, in some new place. I studied at Pace University in Manhattan and Middlesex University in London, as an Anthropology major with a minor in Religious Studies. I have spent most of my adult life in Seattle, Washington and have lived very simply. I have never felt a pull toward a specific career or setting down permanent roots. I don’t wish to own a home or become a parent. I am inclined only to explore and learn as much as I can, to watch and marvel at unpredictability, and to write of my witnessing it. I am blessed to have had many adventures and I have a lot of interesting and strange stories."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Jamadhi Verse: "I have been writing poetry on and off since I was a child, but words did not become a flowing torrent for me until I was in my late 20s. The unaddressed and unspoken suddenly wanted outside of me. The silence and stoicism that my childhood strictly enforced could stand its firm stance no longer. The dam broke and the river roared and suddenly for the first time ever, my true self was speaking and I was learning about the woman that it turns out that I am.

I have been on HP for almost 8 years. Through this site I grew loud my own inner voice, discovered my strength, and broke away from my shyness. I learned I could allow myself to write without trepidation. HP has allowed me many close friendships and even a loving relationship with another poet here. This site has been a true gateway and an unexpected journey."



Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Jamadhi Verse: "A thin, crescent moon hanging in the black sky. The reverberating sound of the waves. Longings that run so painfully deep they create a chasm in your being. Nostalgia that cuts deep with illusion. The magic of a moment dancing its circles around you. Everything comes to me, wanting to be put into Words."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Jamadhi Verse: "I found poetry as a means to finally use my voice. I grew up in traumatic circumstances as a child, learning very early on that the best way to stay strong was to be quiet and keep all opinions, needs, and desires to myself. I was inwardly a very intense world of observations and dreaming that was completely stifled and uncharted. I was so good at dismissing my own feelings that as I moved into adulthood I had to admit that I knew nothing of my own self. I never let anything inside me, out. Poetry was the unraveling confession. The voice that refused to stop speaking until my eyes and heart were finally wide open to who I am and my stance in life. It was my complete release into trust, gratitude, and acceptance through full honesty. Once I discovered I could closely connect to others through this medium and realized that poetry helps to inspire, heal, and even walk other’s through their most challenging points in life, it became my central meaning. Poetry is our inmost intimacy, grown ripe when given to the light. It feeds others through their famine and plants new seeds."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Jamadhi Verse: "Rainer Maria Rilke, Rumi, Pablo Neruda, Ann Sexton, T.S. Eliot. They are the light and shadow in everyone."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Jamadhi Verse: "Photography is as crucial a part of my life as my writing. I love to take walks deep in nature. I am a passionate music enthusiast and see as much live music as possible. My record is 76 concerts in a year. I love to travel and have visited 14 countries so far. I have a deep kinship with animals and enjoy birds and dogs best. I enjoy reading, puzzles, live theater, and museums. I am interested in all subjects that fall into the realm of mystery and the paranormal. I practice psychedelic exploration, meditation, sensory deprivation, and other forms of exploring our consciousness."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We wish to thank you for giving us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, J Verse! We are honored to add you to this series!”

Jamadhi Verse: "Thank you with all my heart for allowing me to speak today and for your receptiveness to my words. I heal because you listen."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Jamadhi Verse a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #13 in March!

~
Rhythmic drop of beats
Slow
Hollow beads
Into the well of wealth
Cascade
Seeds of eventide
Sow
A slow tempo
Sweet crescendo
Waves and vibes
Shimmer and shine
Echoes
Of vibrant times
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