Sunday, 14 October 2018

The Blessing by Susan P. Blevins

'At the Death Bed' by Edvard Munch
1895 Public domain


What is this need I feel to receive a deathbed blessing?

On my mother’s deathbed, I took her limp and almost lifeless hand,
placing it on my head, begging her blessing, translating her incoherent,
mumbled words into the final benediction I longed for, while all the while
my tears washed away my past and cleansed me for an uncertain future.

The same thing happened when my husband lay dying, unspeaking,
eyes closed, unconscious to my eyes though I knew his soul heard.
Kneeling by his bed, I took his hand, placed it on my head, and heard
in my heart the words I yearned to hear with my ears, words of love
he would willingly have voiced, had he been able.

The deathbed blessing feels visceral and universal to me, ancient
ritual since the beginnings of humanity, since the mudding of early
dwellings, the first harvest of grain and grapes, a cycle of death and
resurrection as endless as time itself, the blessing perhaps a symbol
of our own final harvest and transformation.

Sunday, 26 August 2018

Calepin paisible d'une pâtresse de poules (extrait) de Cathy Garcia Canalès

extrait de Calepin paisible d'une pâtresse de poules de Cathy Garcia Canalès, Nouveaux délits, 2018


La pâtresse poétesse observe, contemplative, ses poules, comme des amies, en tout cas plus que des animaux de compagnie, et l'environnement dans lequel elles évoluent. D'autres animaux, végétaux, personnes apparaissent et jouent des rôles essentiels dans ce recueil de pensées existentialistes que j'ai dévoré en une soirée et dont je me permets de reproduire ici un court extrait pour le promouvoir car il faut lire ce recueil pour connaître le Sublime, retrouver un bref instant l'essence même de ce que nous sommes en tant qu'êtres vivants sur cette Terre que nous négligeons, dans cette nature foisonnante que nous avons tout fait pour (essayer de) maîtriser à nos dépends. WR.


Oubliez-moi, oubliez mon personnage, il n'est rien d'autre que le vent quand rien ne bouge.

Je m'absente pour vivre pleinement, comprenez-vous? Et si je dois quitter mes mots pour cela ou plutôt ceux qui les lisent, je le ferai. Il y a un piège dans les personnages que nous créent les mots, ces personnages peuvent à chaque instant se refermer sur nous comme des vierges de fer. Ensuite, on ne nous entend plus, embrochés, pris au piège.

Aussi, je m'absente, afin que si mon personnage se referme, il ne se referme que sur le vide. Et je  est ailleurs, je  est nulle part,  je est partout. Dans les nuages en transhumance, dans la langue infatigable de mon enfant, dans le chant du coucou, dans l'avion qui troue le ciel, dans les arbres en attente de l'orgasme printanier et le couple d'oiseaux qui se chamaille; dans le trésor des buis agités par le vent, la mousse qui veloute les murets, dans ce morceau sec de genévrier, dans la crête rouge vif de Cerridwen, dans le jaune d'or du grain de maïs qu'elle vient de gober, dans les pelures de mandarine qui tranche sur le délavé des pelouses sèches, dans la croix du corbeau à l'aplomb de ma tête.

*****

[NDLR] Ce passage me fait penser à ces vers de Walt Whitman

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

Walt Whitman “Songs of Myself”, Leaves of Grass

28 pages agrafées
ISBN : 978-2-919162-05-5
tirage limité et numéroté
sur papier 90g - couverture 250g
100 % recyclé

10 € +2 pour le port
à commander à
Association Nouveaux Délits
Létou
46330 St CIRQ-LAPOPIE

La revue NOUVEAUX DÉLITS -  http://larevuenouveauxdelits.hautetfort.com
L’association NOUVEAUX DÉLITS - http://associationeditionsnouveauxdelits.hautetfort.com/

Sunday, 12 August 2018

Avis de parution : Calepin paisible d'une pâtresse de poules


Vous l'aviez aimé, voire adoré et bien voilà : le numéro 2 de la collection de poésie postale "Délits vrais" est maintenant disponible en version livre (légèrement remaniée).

28 pages agrafées
ISBN : 978-2-919162-05-5
tirage limité et numéroté
sur papier 90g - couverture 250g
100 % recyclé

10 € +2 pour le port
à commander à
Association Nouveaux Délits
Létou
46330 St CIRQ-LAPOPIE

« Que c’est bon d’être assise là au soleil, pâtresse de poules au sein de toute cette beauté ! Un léger vent, un esprit bienveillant, pose sa main sur mon front. Le sourire est là, à portée de lèvres. Il affleure comme une source, il vient du cœur. Ce cœur à cajoler, à nicher dans la mousse.

L’hiver se meurt, je le sais, je le sens. Ne pas chercher.
Ne plus chercher. Simplement faire de la place pour accueillir. »


textes & photos de Cathy Garcia Canalès


En hommage à Madame Wong
emportée par le renard en juillet 2011
et à tous nos compagnons à poils et à plumes
sans qui la vie ne serait pas la vie


La revue NOUVEAUX DÉLITS -  http://larevuenouveauxdelits.hautetfort.com

Sunday, 5 August 2018

The Rigged Claw Machines at the Mall Arcade by Alyssa Trivett

by Mike Mozart

The sign reads AIM HERE
as utensil claw tongs friend zone
a plushy fish,
barely chalk outlining its fin.
My nine credits on my reloadable card
deduct double.
Instead,
I dance sideways with another machine,
walking out with a plush sushi.
A young couple asks how I was able to win it,
I replied; gunned it to its side,
got it to rollover and stand up,
swiped at it and let it fall
into my winner’s circle bin,
like dominoes.


*****

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. She can be reached at facebook.com/alyssalovestowrite

Friday, 3 August 2018

Veiled by Lynn White

by "Mike" Michael L. Baird


First published in Visual Verse, July 2016

I wear my hair
like a veil
covering all.
Covering all that
is not already covered
and needs to be,
they insist.
But it is not enough.
I can still see
when it parts
and still be seen.
I can still move
freely.
It is not enough,
they insist.
I need the mask
of the broad, blue
blindfold
to tether me,
they insist.
And I wonder,
will this be enough?

*****

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Find Lynn at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts and lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com

Tuesday, 24 July 2018

the seas of drunken greens by Sudeep Adhlkari

Carpet of Moss by Drew Brayshaw


an astral walk along the carpet
of green. its fibers sway
in sines, summoning the ancient
arithmetic of trembling
cleaves on their fragile legs.

the trees thicken inside their own
universe, and melt

with love, as they become
the water of my veins; all green. 

i can hear the whole universe
speaking; from the old
space-time churns, to the cry
of the first wiggle

in wormy hyper-seas. i am
not lost. i am,
where i am always supposed to be.

*****

Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer from Kathmandu, Nepal. Also a Pushcart Prize nominee for the year 2018, Sudeep is currently working on his 4th poetry-book Hyper-Real Reboots, which is scheduled for publication in September 2018 through Weasel Press, Texas, USA.

Monday, 16 July 2018

Passing by Stephen Mead

sleepwalk-dreams-subconscious by r.nial bradshaw
At last no recognition,
no glint in the other's eye
for desire & its poison,
only ghost life, glass made
flesh & I drowned as my sister
in fevers quelled, the dear mad
bliss of blankness
for infatuation full
of heart, head, tempests,
perilous, the misplaced
seed, system-sewn, an Oedipus
blindness, an awareness distressed
that kills, kills
while the body goes on
to its own askew melody
being lost out of mind
at a somnambulist's crosswalks.

*****

Stephen Mead: Author Central Page: Visit Amazon.com's Stephen Mead Page and shop for all Stephen Mead books. Check out pictures, bibliography, and ... Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer.  Since the 1990s he's been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online.  He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance.  Poetry on the Line, Stephen MeadPoetry on the Line, Stephen MeadWriting, even publishing, poetry, is not something I've ever been able to take much pride in. When a person is...