All posts filed under: Poetry

I’m Done by Nichoel Sutton

Combining creativity, freedom from violence, activism, and committed parenting takes courage. Nichoel Sutton’s spoken-word series “I’m done” can be seen as part of a poetic tradition called Incantations. Braid and Shreve in their book “In Fine Form” share the Canadian Oxford Dictionary’s definition: “a magical formula chanted or spoken” which comes from the Latin “cantare”, to sing. Although many forms of poetry use repetition, the incantation relies particularly heavily on rhythmic insistence to create an intensely emotional, mesmerizing effect, for magic, ritual, or performance purposes. Like spoken-word, incantation overtly appeals to the senses – especially the ear.” (Braid and Shreve, p.110). Part 1. I’m done. I’m done with the words that don’t match the actions…Part 2. I’m done with the meetings where they say nice words…Part 3. I’m done. I’m done with not being able to protect myself…Part 4. I’m done with knowing that if I call the police…

Writing with the Universe: Marguerite Porete: By Chantal Lunardi

– I – Marguerite Porete (13th century – 1 June 1310) was a French-speaking mystic and the author of The Mirror of Simple Souls, a work of Christian mysticism dealing with the workings of agape (divine love). She was burnt at the stake for heresy in Paris in 1310 after a lengthy trial, refusing to remove her book from circulation or recant her views (Wikipedia $25). A rare flower, considered a weed at the time, Marguerite Porete came to me while I was digressing at the library of Simon Fraser University. Digression was my favourite state of mind. Is. I would wander amongst rows of books outside of my assigned multiple fields of study and, with the coming of the online age, gallivant from rare and restricted virtual academic publications to historical novels, folktales, plays, poetry and handwritten journal entries giving me infinite possibilities to roam deeper into remote obscure quadrants. I would cross entire universes of abstractions and sometimes come back on time for dinner, hundreds of pages further away from the end of …

On Condition by Emily Rose Whitehead

Your love was on condition You showed me the fine print Handed me a nearly empty pen Directed my eyes down to a page A page filled with terms and agreements A page titled ‘My love contract’ I held that pen full of empty promises and extended conversation I had so many questions, The first one being: If my love was free, If my love was an ever growing garden dedicated to your house, If my love was a tender caress from my ancestors to yours Given to you without any conditions Then why was your love a form? A contract protecting your heart A contract breaking mine–On condition My second question was this If my love was written in bubbles,  Coloured in rainbows, Kissed by toothless faeries Why was yours put into Times New Roman fineprint? Your line dotted, mine blurred My final inquiry comes in shallow breaths If my love was crying on your shoulder, If my love was dancing to your heartbeat, If my love has sailed across the pacific to find …

Une Pandemie Démasquée by Chantal Lunardi

Ben lày’en a marredistance isolationne t’approche pasles enfants vont tuer leurs grands-parentsla petite Lennon reste dans sa chambreelle ne sort qu’avec un masquepour ne pas infecter sa mère son pèrel’arrière grand-mère a déménagépeur de Lennonelle ne peut l’approcherson bijou sa raison de vivremaintenant le spectre de sa mort Lennon est maladefièvre touxle nez qui coulecomme tous les enfantsà la rentrée scolairecomme tous les éducateursen septembreon donne et s’échangedes cocktails d’immunisationpas nécessairementde bonne volontéon régénèrenos cellules embourbéespas toujoursavec grande joieou sans risquesc’était il y a un tempsla meilleure façonde garder notre équilibrehoméostatique sainquelle responsabilitéLennonde porter sur ses frêles épaulesnos destinées Y’en a marreben là voyonsla police qui s’en mêleles amendesvous allez tous nous tuervous promener comme çaamicalementen nombre plus grandque celui décrétésans masquessans gantssans une épaisseurde gel stérilisantet aux Philippinesle président approuveun policier d’avoir tiréà la tête un homme ébriéqui n’en portait pas unede ces mascarades est-ce vraiment où se dirigenotre humanité?couvre-feux regards éclipséslaissant échapper notre hainede ceux qui ne se camouflent pasalors qu’il n’y a pas longtempsau nom de la libertéon dédaignait la dissimuléeexigeant qu’elle …

Three Poems by Tori Thurmond

Learning the difference One day I killed a carpenter bee that was crawling on the driveway. It was crawling and I squished it with my shoe. Mom told me carpenters weren’t dangerous, not like the bee who stung my hand last summer. I tried to save the bee, blew on it, gave it water drops in case he was thirsty. I hadn’t known the carpenter bee wasn’t going to hurt me. I put him on the only branch of our crabapple tree that I could reach. A nice place in the shade. After a few minutes two other carpenter bees came looking for the one. They hovered in the air looking at it. I didn’t know bees could be so still like that. I put my hand out. Cupped the two carpenter bees in my palm so they wouldn’t have to work so hard to look. I hoped they’d sting me. I think it would have helped with the feeling in my stomach. I stood there with the bees in my hand until it was …

Three poems by Art Harrison

Candles (A memory) Stumble into a dark apartment And fumble for the light. Empty and cool with the breeze Blowing through the open window. Flick the switch and gaze around At the mess of dishes, scattered papers, And children’s toys. The kids are back with their mother for the week And the place is quiet and dead without their light. The light on the answering machine blinks three times; Someone has actually called, Three someones possibly. Savour the chance to break this awful silence. Two from the children. So often the ones who keep me in contact with the world… And one from her. After months of nothing her voice comes to me like the whispers of a ghost Calling from the other side. She sounds tired. She’s been working so hard and before I can catch myself I wish I could hold her. But I remember where I am And what has happened Replay the message to catch the content, which says very little, Give my head a shake and go to erase just …

D.R.E.A.M. (Delusion Rules Everything Around Me) by Matty Kakes

Sung to the tune of C.R.E.A.M. by Wu-Tang Clan I grew up on the sci side, the Bill Nye don’t lie side Empirical research was my jive Had second hand textbooks and a laptop, man So then I went away to collegeland A young youth, reading strictly peer reviewed to get loose Debate your ideas and then give them the boot! But then something happened and people started behaving dumb Denying science, facts and logic, son I wish it was just a dream cause of how bizarre it all seems Crazy ass theories about cannibal lizards going mainstream And people be claiming the earth’s flat, how’s that? You know physics don’t be working like that No question, cognitive dissonance is at a peak I mean just last week, right wing media be saying we’re all sheep Empathy is vacant and critical thinking is at a lull Anti-maskers claiming freedom over lives of the vulnerable. CHORUS Delusion Rules Everything Around MED.R.E.A.M.Don’t fall for it Knowledge reigns supreme y’all Delusion Rules Everything Around MED.R.E.A.M.Don’t fall for it …

Undocumented Football by David A. Romero

When life throws everything at you Don’t drop the ball “Don’t drop the ball” “Blue 42 Set Hike!” A brown quarterback’s fingers Tighten around the white laces Of a football Roosevelt vs. Garfield They meet today Upon an annual battleground Where local legends Spell rivalry In defensive and offensive formations Upon this old field In this dirty stadium Football sounds a lot like Boyle Heights Like East L.A. Like years of pride and history “Sounds like Roosevelt is in motion Number 42 Miguel Is with them Crossing the line of scrimmage Clad in red and yellow His muscles tell a story” 20 Miguel has always been running Running from la migra Las placas Everyone who wants to Stop him Ask him, “.Donde estan sus papeles?” Where are your papers? Miguel’s too fast though How fast? Too fast Too fast for borders Laws Checkpoints Dogs Too fast for fences Ditches Detention centers And walls Definitely too fast for the fool Unfortunate enough to be D’ing up on him now Through it all Under the glare of …