To Love

Did you forget what it feels like to love?

You would prefer to hate the past

and blame me for all your wrongdoings.

I am an open dart and your hands

the weapon. You did forget,

say the truth, you pretend

to love me. I see through it.

I lay down awake,

but I was a cliche dead

inside. I cried and you watched

me, sending others to comfort me

while you left

silence

destroyed us once again.

I knew this would happen.

I am a witch after all. Love

has a way of pulling you apart

when you close it down.

I can detach, this is my power

I can run, this is my ache

I can stay, this is my mission

I can order for two

and only be one.

All the love you promised

I mopped it away

with the urine stains.

Did you forget what it feels like to love?

I can no longer remind you,

for I forgot what it feels like to love.

I do answer my own questions

I am a poet

after all

and my dog needs me.

Poets sleep awake

Photo by @dan_cretu from Instagram

 

I need my naps

I am a modern poet

in semi-deep sleep

never fully awake

dreaming about pre-raphaelites and the Rosettis

still thinking

in all the colors

you left behind.

I hug you close

yet you disappear

into orange clouds

and sunset lawns.

I want to forget

the long trails

to your heart

and climb up

your mountain

to kiss your eyes

to sleep.

Alas, I slumber awake.

Awake, yet not.

A poet with a deep voice. Book Review for “Together and by Ourselves” by Alex Dimitrov

 

Book Review

IMG_71355 starts out of 5

What I like most about Alex Dimitrov’s poetry book, Together and by Ourselves, is the simple yet brilliant one liners amidst the narrative poems. First of all, I am a big fan of full length poetry books that contain long poems. Here, I am not ever disappointed. Each poem will take the reader into a world that inhabits poetry, the world of outward circumstances meeting the inner workings of the mind.

This poetry book is divided into five sections. In the first part there are poems that reach deep into the psyche of human motivation and relationships. In the poem, “Champagne,” there is a line that stand out for me, “Believe me, he said, every hand finds the right door without keys.” The poem continues in this manner of interrupting your thoughts once you grasp his meaning, then we jump to actions and sequence of events that makes the poet question and answer existential questions. Dimitrov is a poet that does not stop questioning.

Most of the poems fit precisely on one page, this book is wider than traditional poetry books, to enable the reader to feel the full effect of each sentence. I love the formatting and presentation of each poem. I enjoy the visual, artistic cover of a girl hanging from a door frame, her feet not touching the ground, she could be interpreted as some kind of muse or a human wall in front of a door. I connect with the girl instantly, and perhaps feel a kindred connection to her as I, myself, have felt that disassociation from society and people as if I was floating in space, yet at the same time, in a home, together among objects and people. You can probably write a whole article on the cover alone.

The second part of the poetry book takes us to Los Angeles and the power and the glory of stardom, dreams, illusions and the human condition. On of my favourite poems is in this section, “Jesus in Hollywood,” and the brilliant poem, “American Money.”

“If you die enough times, you become your own saint.” This line is taken from the poem, “Speeding down PCH.” As a true poet’s poet, Alex Dimitrov, reflects on nature and life with hard facts. His unique poetic voice captures your attention and requires the reader to stop, pause and reflect or regret on the philosophy behind his poetry.

The rest of the book I enjoyed on a slower pace. Reading a few poems every day up until the final one, which was epic in its masterpiece way of combining human frailty and emotions.

This is a poetry book to have and to cherish like a marriage of true minds.

I have selected a few pieces but nothing could give this book justice, besides holding it in your hands, and reading a true poet’s mind.

 

If you would like to read more by Alex Dimitrov, see below
http://www.alexdimitrov.tumblr.com
Twitter: @alexdimitrov
Publishers: Copper Canyon Press

IMG_7396

IMG_7395

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Les Enfants Terrible

http://www.femininecollective.com/les-enfants-terribles/?utm_campaign=crowdfire&utm_content=crowdfire&utm_medium=social&utm_source=social#2195478619-tw#1497834079543#2195478619-tw#1497834330095

 

Hello everyone,

 

Excited to share a new poem with you. Click on link above. I am also excited to announce that I will be a new member of SD, (Sudden Denouement) a first rate literary collective.

 

Much love and gratitude,

Christina Strigas

 

 

The Fire of my Storm

Inside my chest

is a raging child

she buckles up her seat belt

and waits for the accident

it is coming

it always does.
I remember her at six

how the piano freed her soul

and anger burned her wings

in burial grounds

where her mother met her fate.

This storm inside her at sixteen

tore apart all her friendships

these addictions to people

taught her about toxicity.

Now at thirty-four

she sleeps alone

and waits for the shores

of her youth to be

taken by the roads she missed.

She is a calm wave

waiting for her destiny

and lightening.

Spilt Wine

Start the night with wine

in my hair, on my dress,

in my stockings

brand new shoes

bare shoulder

and a few broken

apologies. I saw it

coming too,

and just watched it.

Kind of like life

that was yesterday.

Tonight,

now another bar

another jazz singer

singing the blues

under copper tiled ceilings

and feathers in her hair

you’d think it was suddenly

1920 art deco Paris.

But no,

it’s the house of Jazz

in Laval, Quebec.

Hanging with the girls

who sold my life away.

Do you pay the bill?

Cosmos and red chandeliers

blue bottine in the vitrine

and it’s a wonderful world

in here.

The only thing missing is you

with me.

It makes me cry

you’ll never see

what I see.

Not even pictures

do it justice.

Rita called me

she’ll be 20

minutes late,

god damn Montreal traffic.

It’s fine.

I’ll order another Cosmo

write a poem.

Listen to the jazz singer

and lament

you.

Healing Hugs

 

Everyone needs some healing hugs

that connect us all

without a touch.

One body to love

so hold onto

your mystery

clasp it like a lost key

embrace the wrongs

don’t make them right.

Let your soul flow like your hair on a naked body

want no one

ask no questions.

Sleep poets and dreamers,

do not ask why, do not,

don’t let the bastards get you down.

Are you aware? Are you asleep?

Keep driving, don’t stop at pit stops, they suck you up and never let go of white souls

-Christina Strigas

———————–

Photo by @antoniodjanikian ———————–

#fridayfuckery #longformfriday #streamofconsciousness

#amwriting #christinastrigas

#poem #poetsofig #writing #freeversepoetry #poetrycommunity #poets #poeticsighs #montreal #lovepoems #wordporn

Book Review of “Bones in the Garden” by McKayla Debonis

Book Review of “Bones in the Garden”

by McKayla Debonis

 

IMG_7142

My Rating: 4/5 stars

This poetry book is adorable, even though it is about heartache, McKayla Debonis has written a book that takes place during a painful breakup, it also illustrates a resourceful and strong-willed woman. I am so excited to get a signed copy by the author for my collection. I cherish poetry books, and especially signed copies! I know how much time and energy a poet spends in creating a book and it is an extension of our own soul.
“Bones in the Garden” is a small, compact book that is more of a chapbook, than a full-length poetry book. It consists of seventy-nine pages with poems that are a couple of lines per page, the longer pieces consisting of half a page.
The poetic form of this poetry book influences the reader as does the poem, namely, the micro-poetry collection inside of this book, so hence poems have their own effect quite apart from the content. For instance, a sonnet, speaks with precise logic, but here in this poetry book, the form is free verse and open-ended. The messages of these poems reinforces the thought of the poem, which is basically a broken heart and spirit.
The poems are easily understood. The word “bones” is a central theme throughout the book, italicized for emphasis, but at times that may seem overly stated.
The poem
“Bones ii
Deep in my bones I know that I
will never be the same again”

In essence, Debonis is telling us how every relationship changes us and after a hurtful and emotionally abusive one, we will never be the same. I feel that these simple statements are more sentences than poems. She has written a poetry book full of lovely quotes that can lift one’s spirit and broken heart.

I have included some photos of my favourite pieces. My favourite poem is “Barren Wasteland.”

 

IMG_7143

 

 

The illustrations by Rachel Aquino add a special quality to the book. This is a cute book to have in any collection.

McKayla Debonis can be found on the social media sites below.

She has a beautiful website at http://www.mckayladebonis.com
Her book can be purchased at all on-line bookstores.
Twitter: @mckayladebonis
Goodreads : McKayla Debonis
Instagram: @mckayladebonis
Her email: mckayladebonis@gmail.com

 

 

Never Tell

I can never tell who loves me anymore

they like to rehash old shit

from five years ago

when I wasn’t the same person.

They like to pretend they know me

because they read my poems.

I can never tell who needs me anymore

they live their own life

without calling me

or texting me a simple hello.

I can never tell who wants me anymore

they don’t say “i want you”

they ignore me

and make me feel useless

and hated.

I can never tell the time anymore

it keeps on making my future

unattainable.

I am losing my witching powers

and becoming too normal

I dislike people

and only want them one on one.

Groups are killing my spirit

eating up my leftovers

and wiping their mouth

with glee

at my destruction.

I just can’t tell anymore

if love

is real.