Thursday, July 2, 2015

4 poems by 4 poets

illustrations by palomine studios and penmarq studios

a call to arms

by rev. peter jackson sternwall

oh once upon a time the earth was round
and flags were firmly planted in the ground
men gazed up at them in silent awe
respected women, and obeyed the law

they went to work and earned their honest pay
and saved their hard-earned money day by day
ready to go to war if it need be
determined to keep their territory free

what evil spirits could look down on this
and sneeringly see ought amiss?
what monsters of perdition could find joy
in smashing such pure gold without alloy?

yet these good men and true woke up one morn
and wished that they had ne’er been born
for all that they had built up with such trust
lay shattered - scattered in the whirling dust

now demons walked the once free land
and taking little children by the hand
laughed at the barren fields and empty homes
of another empire fallen like troy and rome

o inheritors of this new armageddon
what shall you place your faith upon?
must moloch laugh through all eternity
or will you stand and cry “it shall not be!”

abby: a fragment

by corinne delmonico

abby drove the menfolk wild, knocked them off their feet
and left a trail of stiffened dicks when she walked down the street
they oohed and ached, they laughed and cheered
as down the road her bod she steered

abby had humungous boobs, and an even bigger ass
the boys all crowded round her, and barely let her pass
is this my life, the poor girl thought
through winters cold, and summers hot

to be a spectacle for louts
who have no clue what life’s about
good heavens! i would rather be
a bird, a cloud, a rock, a tree

a slice of toast with raspberry jam
anything but what i am
a wall for all to write upon
but who will remember me when i’m gone?

an angel heard poor abby’s cry
and floating gently from the sky
resolved to give her a small slice
of everything that is true and nice

a demon also heard her plaint
and being all the angel ain’t
thought abby needed to show some spunk
and strike back at the loathsome punks …


by horace p sternwall

cats and dogs
and toads and frogs
and chickens and hogs
and snakes and gators in bogs

and barely visible bugs
in intricately woven rugs
all greet the dawn
with their mojo on

but as the day goes by
their dreams shrivel up and die
except for those hardy souls
who have specific goals

like taking two pieces of bread
and covering them with jelly red
and peanut butter autumnal brown
and washing it all down

with a glass of chocolate milk
as smooth as cleopatran silk
there is no more truth to yield
because all has been revealed


by timothy t jones

no keys
no pants
can’t get out the window