“Deus ex Machina” by RICHARD GREEN

Deus ex Machina

 

Act five and the play
struggled toward its conclusion.
The plot was complex, the characters weary,
the audience anxious, perplexed.

There was only one solution
to this difficult drama:
a god from the machine
to set things straight.

He descended from his tower,
his goddess before him
floating down the escalator,
The audience bursts into applause.

They cheered, whistled, shouted.
They loved the spectacle.
Splendid in his power,
he was their catharsis.

He understood the actors’ fears,
their uncertainties, their desires.
He proclaimed his judgment.
Opponents withered before him.

He unbound the rancor of generations.
Destroy the enemies!
Deport the unwanted!
Imprison the opponents!

The audience went wild,
so clear the resolutions,
so obvious, so simple in satisfying
yearning for what they call justice.

Then the god ascended to his tower
to choose his henchmen
to descend in all future final acts,
this deus ex machina.


Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

Bio:

RICHARD GREEN writes poetry in southern New Mexico, inspired mostly by the high desert. He has published in Avocet, Weekly Avocet, Malpais Review, Sin Fronteras Journal, and upcoming in Penwood Review.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-15-2017 (evening)


 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“The Signature” by RICHARD GREEN

The Signature

 

His signature,
scratched on some document
he holds up for the world to see,
 
is tight, cramped, jagged, aggressive,
as if it could move against us
like the teeth of a mowing machine
 
cutting weeds on the side of the road,
vertical, like the slats of his border wall,
spiky, dense, with letters like towers.
 
He likes towers.
Towers are power.
You can shoot people from towers.
 
I remember a signature
that started with an O,
open, welcoming,
embracing.


Image by Ryan Schaufler 2017

Bio:

RICHARD GREEN writes poetry in southern New Mexico, inspired mostly by the high desert. He has published in Avocet, Weekly Avocet, Malpais Review, Sin Fronteras Journal, and upcoming in Penwood Review.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-15-2017


 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“A Proposition for My Dear Lord Byron” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

A Proposition for My Dear Lord Byron

 

I’ll walk in beauty like the night,
As heaven’s stars above surround;
And cast my eyes to lofty heights,
Though I tread firmly on the ground.
I’ll gaze beyond those astral lights,
And see the place, I trust, you’ve found.

My face might seem serene and fare
To any person passing by;
And few would guess, and fewer care
To see beyond my lips and eyes,
To doubt and fear that stripped me bare
Of hope and faith, of all but lies.

They would not care to contemplate
The dreadful depths in which I’ve dwelled.
Nor would they wish to meet the hate
That poisoned peace inside this shell.
The beauty that they might relate
To inner grace, in fact, hid hell.

But silent, sheltered in my heart
There burned a light lit long before
My conscious mind met any part
Of corporal bit: pure Love, no more.
It is this light, His gift, my start,
That carries on and faith restores.

Thus, I warn that you may mistake
The pleasing features of my face
As evidence that I never take
Weary walks through regret and waste.
Of course I do! For heaven’s sake
I carry on, to find His grace.

The light that is His masterpiece
Reflects itself upon my cheek.
And so this glow of which you speak
Is luster not unique to me;
It shines on all humanity
A beauty we are meant to seek.

And while I swell at listening
To all your lovely praises paid,
Humility’s a nobler thing,
And best my pride is gently stayed.
I’ll implore you to no longer sing
Of virtues that with time must fade.

For me it’s not enough to dream
In loving lines you write to me,
Imagining impassioned scenes,
Your words caressing tenderly,
While countless miles sprawl in between,
Yourself and my reality.

I’d rather that you take, possess
This innocence your words enshrine,
For cruel time rushes without rest
And withers beauty on the vine.
Come, lips to lips, our bodies pressed
As one, lost paradise we’ll find.



BIO:

CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).

Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-14-2017


 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“Magic Pen” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

Magic Pen

 

Let me take out my Magic Pen and I’ll write
What will be.
First, I will cross out your doubt, and write “faith” for you.
Next, I will erase your tears,
And write you a smile.
Now moving on to everyone else,
I’ll cross out “worries” and write in “cheer.”
And I will write “belief” in the blank spaces where I’ve erased “fear” and “grief.”
I will remove sickness with a swipe of my ink and write “well.”
I’ll scratch out “religions” and replace them, simply, with “love.”
I will erase, “poverty”
And fill the gaping space it leaves
With solid words
Like “food” and “clothes” and “school” and “work.”
I’ll erase “lost” and write “home.”
I will blot out “cruelty,” “neglect” and “alone”,
And I’ll spell out “DIGNITY”,
In all caps and bold,
So everyone can read,
Even the old and the poor and the weak.
I’ll erase “lies” and fill in “truth”,
And I’ll write “proof,” so they’ll know.
I’ll write down what everyone else is feeling,
And then,
I’ll write the same feelings for you and for me,
So you will see
That we’re all on the same page,
Where I’ll write “Empathy.”
I’ll erase “prejudice” and replace it with “enlighten.”
And “light” I’ll define for them:
“The blinding kind,
Which babies see before birth,
It is perfect and pure, and
Unrefracted by any element on earth.”
I will strike out “ignorance” and replace it with words
To inspire kids’ desire
To discover and learn,
And I’ll write them
Books to read, food to eat, teachers to teach.
I’ll write them a staircase that climbs to the sun,
So wide they can race, all abreast,
To the top,
And all win first place.
And I’ll write blue ribbons for every single one.
And I’ll write funny jokes that will lighten the mood
And I’ll write shut the mouths of the cruel and the rude.
I’ll write off the thieves, and the cheats and the liars,
I’ll cross out the horns of the impatient drivers.
I’ll erase “bully” and replace it with “friend,”
I’ll write longer breaks for the overworked men,
And spell “hot, homemade cookies” for the kids who come home
To a house that is empty
Because Mom is alone,
Working two jobs, because one won’t do,
To raise all those children,
So I’ll write a raise for her, too.
I’ll cross out the guns and the bombs,
And write “balm” over the wounds.
And I’ll write “healing” on the hearts of those who’ve lost
Loved ones too soon.
I’ll write “support” for those who came back, at great cost,
And for those who return, somehow changed,
Who find the words rearranged,
So that they no longer make sense,
I’ll write a translation for them
So that they can find meaning, again.
I’ll rewrite “arms” to hug, not fire
And then
I’ll scratch out “war” and “desire”
And write “fair” and “share” and “content.”
I will cross out “oppression” and “subjugation”
In all the ways they are spelled, in every group and nation,
And replace them with “respect.”
I will write “heaven” next to every one’s soul
With an arrow pointing towards “hope,”
And cross out “temptations” and “traps.”
I’ll erase “regrets,”
So you’re not tempted to look back
And re-read them.

I’ll write you a dream that you’ve already dreamt,
So you’ll know that this Magic Pen is real.
Then, you will have to believe
That all this can be,
And you will understand,
That if I write it, it can.

And I will stay here writing until I’ve fixed it all, for everyone.
I will write until the sun
Burns out.
Until I am done.
And before that dark day descends,
I’ll write you a Magic Pen,
Too,
So you can write “light” for me,
My friend.
So together,
We can right the end.


Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

BIO:

CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).

Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-14-2017


 

 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

 

“John 15, Mr. Miyagi and Me” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

John 15, Mr. Miyagi and Me

 

Like God removes the branch that gives no bloom
And gardener prunes beloved bonsai trees,
So I pick and choose (assisted by my Muse)
The words that transform me
To flowing poetry,
A masterpiece of Self designed for you.

 


Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

 

BIO:

CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).

Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


 

-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-13-2017

 


 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“Bitter Sweet Release” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

Bitter Sweet Release

 

We had taken a break from the orphanage,
A weekend’s stay in town;
A welcome escape from a desperate place
That at times would wear me down.
The morning we returned we learned
Razul had died.
We were bright-eyed,
Rested and fed,
Fresh from hot showers and a soft bed.
Things Razul never knew.
The children met us as we came through the gates,
Anxious to relate the news:
“Razul expired!” were the words we heard,
Though it took a long moment to settle in.
To assist in our comprehension,
They pantomimed his fate
With dramatized closed eyes and tongues lolled down their chins.
They’d found him drowned in the water tank,
This little boy of maybe twelve.
A seizure, likely,
Came upon him and he fell
To silent death,
Over his head,
In the middle of the night.
No one to hear or help.
Never know the fear or desperation he felt,
Alone.
That night we gathered, a motley band of friends,
Missionaries, children, women and men,
Lepers and cripples, the dying and ill,
Standing still and silent in the humid sunset heat.
We bowed our heads and clasped our hands
And prayed,
Beside his humble grave.
It was nothing but a mound of dirt,
With white powder strewn on top,
And a simple wooden cross.
We prayed,
In a field of other graves, all the same,
Except the sizes changed from infant to adult.
No markers and no names,
Gone the way they came,
In crushing poverty,
With meager few to grieve,
And nothing but our prayers,
And death,
To set them free.


Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

BIO:
CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).
Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-13-2017


NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“Born Again” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

Born Again

 

 

This glorious day my faith in poetry, long wandering lost, has returned.

As a child, with candid faith, I worshipped often in the house of rhyme. My Book: the words of poets from old and modern times. I held their lines, cherished as divine, in the tabernacle of my mind. I read and happily received the bread of beauty, of loss and love, the wine of wisdom, of nature and peace.

Then weariness sewed seeds of unbelief and soured the wine, made stale the bread, blew out the sacred candle in my head. I shunned in silent self-reproach my belief in verse; I decided its airy lightsomeness proves all together frivolous among the heavy burdens of this earth.

I shelved my dog-eared faith as fit for fools.

I left that house of grace and locked the door behind. So long, farewell to bleeding rhyme.

Twenty five years I held my spirit to the grind, ground nearly gone, to prove my worth. I amassed an armory and displayed prowess on the battlefield of base success.

I am not a superfluous ornament in this world.

I am not a dewy-eyed, dreaming girl.

But somehow, exposed to the pelting elements amid my mad pursuit, the lock eroded. The temple door fell open. The ripe, cider-sweet lines, fermented in darkness over time, called out to parched lips and hungry mind. With utter relish I drank.

And now here I am, back inside the banished shrine, the prodigal poet, sneaking furtive, greedy drafts… savoring the warmth that blooms in my chest. I grow heady and flushed with the words.

I have fallen off the wagon of sensible pursuit.

I realize that, unbeknownst to me (so intent was I in my drive to prove solidity) lines, lines and wonderful lines were writing themselves all these years– weaving over and under, around and within all the rushing moments of my life like an untiring stream, carrying along the sediment of every sentiment I’ve felt; smoothing the jagged edges of treacherous rock, quenching the hot, angry sands, caressing in bubbling murmurs the aching rapids rushing in search of solace…and sitting still as glass over deep, pensive pools.

Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Lines. Words. Verse. Like God, and love and light. Everywhere!

And now, like hope, these words spring forth unstoppable. They are as real and profound as anything I’ve ever earned or spent, this flowing record of sentience.

Give me pen, ink and time that I might depict in rhyme the essence, nature of my soul; Like Michelangelo in the chapel of my mind, I’ll paint my own salvation in poetic lines.


 

Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

 

BIO:

CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).

Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-12-2017


 

 

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.

“Song of Myself (Postpartum)” by CARRIE DANAHER HOYT

Song of Myself (Postpartum)

 

All the words I was assembling in my mind to describe the rich
depth of uncharted emotions;
Words to laud the honor of serving as emissary to a new soul,
the wonder and terror of being charged with its well-being;
Words to convey the way that newborn cries and unfocused eyes
cut to your very core;
Words to decry the devastation to body and peace by this
impossibly fragile, tyrannical beast;
Words to extol the heady power of channeling vigor, blood red
and milky white, my single self the sustenance to this budding
life.
All these words were driven by hungry wails and happy shrieks
and endless other bits of joy and need, unrelenting as waves at
sea, into the murky mists of my mind, where they now combine
to sound the untranslatable chords of my maternal yawp.


Photograph Ryan Schaufler 2017

BIO:
CARRIE DANAHER HOYT is a life-long lover and writer of poetry. It is her humble opinion that poetry is the highest form of human communication. Poems (she says) at once highlight what is unique and what is universal in humanity; the bond between writer and reader is intimate and sincere (kind of like Facebook, only better).
Carrie lives in Massachusetts where she is a wife and mother of three school-aged kids. To pay the bills (as her poems don’t yet do this) she works as an estate planning attorney. Beside family and poetry, she loves travel, volunteer work and concerts.


-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-12-2017

NOTICE: © 2017 TWITTERIZATION. ALL INDIVIDUAL WORKS COPYRIGHTED BY THEIR AUTHORS; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ALL POEMS AND ESSAYS ARE WORKS OF THE IMAGINATION.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
© TWITTERIZATION, 2015-2017. UNAUTHORIZED USE AND/OR DUPLICATION OF THIS MATERIAL WITHOUT EXPRESS AND WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS SITE’S AUTHOR AND/OR OWNER IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. EXCERPTS AND LINKS MAY BE USED, PROVIDED THAT FULL AND CLEAR CREDIT IS GIVEN TO THE POET/WRITER AND TWITTERIZATION WITH APPROPRIATE AND SPECIFIC DIRECTION TO THE ORIGINAL CONTENT.