CAUGHT IN THE NET - SIX

SEPTEMBER 2001

Editor - Jim Bennett

Hello again. This is Caught in the Net edition number SIX.

My thanks go to everyone who has submitted work for inclusion in this issue and my apologies to those I could not include. I follow a policy of publishing several pieces by the same author in order to enable the reader to see the range of the poets writing, but if space does not allow I may publish the same poet in several editions. I hope you enjoy this new edition of Caught in the Net.

Please note that no particular spelling convention has been followed and the spellings used reflect the usage of each contributor.  We are always looking for new poets and poems for CAUGHT IN THE NET and our other, web based, magazine TRANSPARENT WORDS both of which are hosted on the site of PK POETRY LIST   The PK Poetry List is a poetry workshop and discussion list.  Anyone interested in joining the list or in finding out more can do so at the main PK site which is at -

http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Aegean/9952/index.htm  

There are already over 950 subscribers to CITN but please feel free to pass it on to your friends.  

Copyright Notice - All the work produced in this ezine is the copyright of the individual authors and cannot be reproduced without permission. All writers have exerted their moral rights to be identified as the author of their work.

Submissions - always welcome - please send to - caught_in_the_net@hotmail.com

Contents

The Poem to End all Poems

by Jim Bennett

 

I set out to write the poem

to end all poems

the one that would fill minds

and the Albert Hall

with a stirring

emotional swill

that would wash away the ills of the world

and make everyone who heard it

whole

 

A poem that when

read loudly by one million people

thronging Trafalgar Square

would

bring happiness

end famine, fascism,

racism, sexual abuse,

child abuse, slavery

end forever all oppression

 

A poem

that would give everyone free

access to the internet

and the ability to distinguish

between the true and the false

that would help people to see the despotic

nature of their despotic leaders

and bring world peace

 

A poem that would

heal the world

make it safe for all time

and create a world republic

 

A poem

that would rise the dead

back to life

to applaud the dexterity of the lines

the diction

the shear scale

 

A poem that would

create a new universe

with a single spoken line

A poem that will

bring you back to me.

See more of Jim's work at http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Academy/1127/

Escape
by Michael David Coffey

O sanctuary of life
caught in a sliver
A sharp spike of silvered
light
Penetrating deep, deep
the sullen shroud
Tearing, pulling, trying
to free the soul
Caught here in the
dark cloistered dank
cathedral
The somber priest all
cloaked in earth's
darkest weave
Black, deep earth brown
and sullen red
Of sacrifice dried,
cracked and given
Somber day and sinister
mood
The dampness cramps
the soul
Pressing in, kneading
flesh, so given
Trapped in the moment
Yet --
breathing free, catching
the air of timeless
thoughts, lingering
A dance, perchance
the devil's tango
And free again,
running in the mist
The cold air shimmering
we breathe the day
And escape the cloistered
memories

See more of David's work at "Deep Waters"
http://www.geocities.com/sulawesiprince
                     

Addiction

by Michael David Coffey

Caught in clippity
clock, brain clanking
bedlam
Like a cork-swallowed
green bottle madness
The pale, stale wine
swirls, whirls, gurgles
And drowns my life
Choking, soaking acrid
tears -- fears deadened
The broken splinters
embedded in my
sodden brain
Sever the nerves
leaving me in suspended
pain

See more of David's work at "Deep Waters"
http://www.geocities.com/sulawesiprince

Beach

by Michael David Coffey

Sand caves stark
silica cells of craving
Hot particles sifting
through fine tendrils
Scattering glittering light
prisms in void gray
Mist curtains cloud
my vision
Then like a switch
Click, crack
The sun scorches the
mist
And clear blue hues
cast shadows of grace
Turning black moods into
frivolous abandon
Ointment glistening on
the skin, ivory and
bronze
Gods and goddesses
Dancing in the afternoon
celebration of ancient
Oceans swelling, hearts
beating fast
In the tide's race to
caress the sand
Slick smooth movements
on lithe shores
And sensually sinking
in the hot sand

See more of David's work at "Deep Waters"
http://www.geocities.com/sulawesiprince

Fine Wine

by Lorilee Couture

Round, delicious globes,
smooth skin protecting
the sweet, soft fruit.
Clinging to vines
old and weathered,
yet strong and ever growing.
Stretching over the valley,
resplendent with greenery.
Each harvest offering up a better,
more fragrant crop,
wine that is only
truly enjoyed by those
who respect the age
of the sweet nectar.

Bitterness of youth
replaced with smoothness
offered up from a plant
that by appearance
looks too aged, withered
to produce such delight.
Deceiving all but the most discerning,
the most deserving.

Thinking of apples
by Larry Jaffe

And when you think of me

do you think of apples

that first raw bite

juice dribbling

down your chin?



Do I put you

in the mood

for apples

sweet and tart

simultaneously?



Apples are symbols

of adventure

for us heroes.

See more by Larry Jaffe at - www.lgjaffe.com

Eating apples in the dessert
by Larry Jaffe

I write to my friend that

I am eating apples in the dessert.

Eating apples is our

secret speak

for having sex;

my friend once proclaiming

that having sex was equivalent

to eating an apple.

So I proudly exclaim

I am eating apples in the dessert!

She writes back

“I did not know

that apples grew

in the dessert.”

 

See more by Larry Jaffe at - www.lgjaffe.com

GLASSROOM HILL

by Gary Langford

When uncle died, christmas evening,
after the turkey was eaten, the wine drunk,
we began absurd promises,
then the phone rang and we all left,
thinking of the Turkey Man,
nodding to each other when his will said,
turkeys should be eaten whole -
he refused cremation - though my family
can subdivide legs and torso.
He made us all feel saner,
particularly finding turkeys lived with him,
after his wife left for a wealthier turkey,
he used to say, showering thoughts and religion
with the chosen few at the table,
God is a universal turkey,
able to pick out the turkey cutters.
Most called him an uneducated nutcase,
surprised by history and psychology books,
rather than bookshelf turkeys.
Uncle used to stare moodily at his pipe,
frowning over the dried up river,
the loss of family gatherings,
having farmed turkeys for too long,
gobbling at the end,
which is why I liked him.
Prostate cancer, the turkeys cackled,
nibbling him when he collapsed,
unable to move on the hill,
last stare at a heavy turkey eye.

LIFE

by Gary Langford


Half of life is sleeping,
the other half is trying to avoid this.

MILITARY ORDERS

by Gary Langford

When you're ordered to shoot on sight,
be wary of looking in the mirror.

WAKING

by Duane Locke

 

Waking, it's noon.

There was snow on the piano.

There was snow on the bedsheets.

There was snow
On the bones of my ribcase.

I walked out into
The Florida July Sun.

There were shiny
Yellow gold pieces
Scattered on the grass
That Danaë lost
When she departed
With someone
On a motorcycle.

THERE IS CHEER IN HIS HOUSE

by Duane Locke

He pulled back the blanket
That once had a peacock embroidered
In green and gold in its center.
With scissors, tweezers, he had
Pulled out each thread, left
The blanket blank, except for
The holes where the threads had been
Formed shadows in their indentations.
This impurity disturbed him,
For he wanted an uniform,
Immaculate white.
The pulled back blanket
Uncovered lavender sheets.
She found pleasure in having
This color next to her body.
He never understood why she
Liked to be touched by other
Than white sheets. He always
Turned out the lights so he could pretend
The sheets were white.
He called for her to come to bed.
He had forgotten she had left years ago,
Left with a man wearing a lavender shirt.
It did not matter, for he could pretend
She was there, sleeping with him under white sheets.

morning shower

by Sherry Pasquarello

heavy steam in layers

surround

as the water beats

against glass shower doors and

nakedness



washing the night and your scent away

hot soapy water running down

my legs, you

swirling down the drain

desire
by Prasenjit Maiti

All the passion flowers of yesteryears
visiting no nonsense shops with you
your young and supple breasts
brushing tender across the lapel of my desires
and it was winter and
it was Calcutta
after the gods have taken
their annual vacation here
our new car and
the engine humming
our new car and the engine purring
and your feline smiles
crashing across the shore of my desires

 

reading poetry

by Prasenjit Maiti

I’d go back to you as I must
go back like the river yonder
that runs back to the sea
I’d go back to you like the distant stars
that are lonely shining down
Park Street and an evening
when you’re nowhere,
no more sprawled against the skies
and the rocks for me
no more risking your chastity
for me, for me . . .
I’d go back to you as I must
like our lonely ghosts
reading poetry

Prayer

by Prasenjit Maiti

I fold my hands in silence
as if in prayer, as if in recollection
of all the sunsets spread against
our sadness skies, skies heavy
with the heartbreak colors of youth
colors of the morrow, and tomorrow
when peace comes dropping slow
like silence, and I fold my hands
in silence, as if in prayer
as if in recollection

 

Purple Happy Faces

by Carol Sircoulomb

when I woke this morning
the sun shone a cool autumn day
I thought I only need one pill with the happy face
my brain is better than before the tumor
I want to take no medicine

as the day progresses
so does the melancholy
an empty space in my life
a little pit of despair

I pour out
two happy faces automatically
forgetting the one I took before
so does this mean the rest of the day
will be three happy faces
or something else
I laugh

Read more of Carol's poems and see her visual art at

http://sircoulombpoeticphotos.homestead.com/newindex.html

Afterword

 

email Caught in the Net at - caught_in_the_net@hotmail.com  tell us what you think.

email Jim Bennett - jim@bennett11.freeserve.co.uk

An archived version of Caught in The Net is available at

http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Aegean/9952/index.htm  

where you can join the subscribe to mailing list and the PK Poetry List

 

Thank you for taking the time to read Caught in the Net.

Next edition due at the end of October 2001 look out for it in the in-tray

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