May 2015
Issue One
Poets United
Poets United !
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May 2015
Poets United
Welcome to the first issue of Poets United magazine! Poets United is a group on Figment (www.figment.com), which is a website where you can share your writing and other people can review it and give you feedback. As of May 13, 2015, Poets United has 26 members. If you, as a non-member reader, would like to join, we are at http://figment.com/ groups/29755-Poets-United. !
! Staff of Poets United are:! -Violet Tomilson!
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Stream of thought, Desire uncaught By Adam Aldrich
In the middle of a forest which sits adjacent to a country plantation, a series of waterfalls feed into one another and inspire temptation. A cascade of pulsing river water surges over the summer boulders, tendrils of current caressing the brunette hair draping over her shoulders.
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Lilting laughter floats up leisurely from where the falls mist eddies, two passionate forms locking together in a fiery embrace which steadies. Seconds of solitude never thought imaginable having been attained, their pent up desire for one another breaking free from being chained.
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The mistress of the plantation spiriting away her lust to take flight, her rendezvous with the stable master overcoming her fury and fright. A woeful marriage to a cruel husband had squeezed her heart dry, until a day bloomed and she took sight of him with a wandering eye. Wolfish charm had cloaked the stable master’s eyes when they’d first met, his very recent arrival imploring a promise to fulfill her heart’s debt. And fulfill it he had as they wallowed in a whirlpool of watery ardor, the symphony of their aroused hearts now beating harder and harder.
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Scorching anger would surely fire her husband’s soul upon discovery, his sinful, foolhardy ego reeling with agony as he attempted recovery. An orchestra of nature’s sounds swirled around them as they melded, the cacophony of crickets and birds rising as their lust firmly welded.
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Cool water enveloped their entwined bodies as they lay on the bank, their wild fervor for each other revealing and quite blatantly frank. Just then who should appear but her malicious husband himself, his repugnant presence to her the very embodiment of villainy itself.
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She watched with frantic eyes as he raised the barrel of an ugly gun, his bearish silhouette larger than life itself as it blocked out the sun. Releasing a shrill scream as she saw the greedy jaws of death appear, she pushed violently away from her new lover and landed on her rear. The stable master quickly sized up the situation and rolled onto his side, formulating a hasty strategy which would save his mistress and his pride. Lashing out with his right foot and all of his violently, crazed might, he kicked the gun out of her husband’s hand and leapt into the fight.
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Their big brawny arms swung wildly through the humid summer air, each pummeling the other with his fists as their hatred was laid bare. As they fought ferociously at the precipice of this second waterfall, their eagerness for battle caused them to overlook an approaching squall.
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Chopping into the husband’s throat with a passionate lash of his arm, the stable master watched as the husband began to tumble down to harm. Grasping the husband’s shirt in a merciful grip as he swayed all about, the stable master reluctantly resigned himself to saving the foolish lout.
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It was then that the raging breath of the advancing squall crashed home, toppling the husband over the edge as he plummeted down into the fall’s foam. As the heart of the squall battered into the stable master with white glee, he dropped down to his knees, fearful of the same fate as he began to flee. Crawling along as frantically as he could on hands and knees now raw, he peered into the torrential rain and was relieved by what he now saw. For his mistress had wisely sequestered herself into the maw of a cave, escaping from the heinous husband who had proven to be such a knave. Although the stable master had been ignorant of the cave entrance before, he now knew that it was hidden behind the waterfall and its furious roar. His weary journey through the watery gale left him gasping for breath, as he fell into the warm grasp of his mistress and avoided his possible death.
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That her husband had died in a horrific manner they certainly had no doubt, but their desperate love watered their lust and ended their hearts’ long drought. For the folly of this was that her vicious husband had lost her long ago, lost her to the pulsating rhythm of rapture which a lonely heart must sow. Now they could harvest a love of their own and garden a bright, new future, lovers coming together forever to expel their pain through using love as a suture. As their dreams and passions flowed into a mutual stream of thought, they came together as one in the cave, their desperate desire uncaught. Copyright © 2015 by Adam Aldrich All rights reserved. This material or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
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Heartstrings Violet Tomilson
She ties them in a bow tie Something she always says Maybe to be funny Or something silly like that Or maybe she’s just lonely But his sweatshirt It bears her tears and longing Maybe once they were just friends He can’t remember She skips down the hall Ignoring the teachers Even though it’s against the rules Even though she’s not a rule breaker But her shoes They have holes From too much lost life She tells him “Don’t forget to smile” As she leaves Giving herself bruises again Too clumsy Too much Too soon She lays on the bed Dying Parched Breathing Barely She reaches up “Can I tie them in a bow tie”
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Onion Ring Dreams
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By Adam Aldrich
Chasing down fantastic fantasies during my nightly onion dreams, everything I see seems real to me, and nothing is what it seems.
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Everywhere I look I see something that strikes a chord within my mind, some image or scene that resonates and penetrates my soul's outer rind.
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I flounder about here and there and try to make my way down the path, my overly stimulated brain percolating with hungry stimuli and its bath.
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Just when I feel that all of the dreamscape pieces are fitting together, my delusional brain is bombarded and struggles to hold onto the tether.
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One moment I find myself beneath lush palm trees on a white sand beach, the next I'm running through a fiery building with every door out of reach.
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Or I'm back in high school and I can't remember my locker combination, having lost my class schedule on the first day of school amid frustration.
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Then I suddenly find myself floating in a hot air balloon over green grass, when a vicious woodpecker starts pecking away at the big balloon's mass.
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Within the deepest corridors of my addled mind I sense the truth, realizing that the only solution to this maddening tempest is to excel as a sleuth.
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Falling from the Empire State building as I currently find myself to be, I allow my tormented psyche to break from the deep anxiety and fly free.
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Then, as the icy embrace of the Arctic Ocean pulls the Titanic down, I float on my back upon the silky black water and relax rather than frown.
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I stroll down the cluttered streets of Pompeii as Mount Vesuvius explodes, my feet calmly wandering as the lava falls and the city burns and erodes.
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Sitting with Alice in Wonderland as the Mad Hater sips from his dainty cup, I drink in the strangeness of the twisted world and let my thirsty brain sup.
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For my sleuthing mind has brought about both an epiphany and an answer, as I realize that my control and stability will rescue me from this cancer. I decide that there’s only one way to surf the treacherous waters of dreams: to conform my mind to the variable deluge of images and themes.
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So rather than letting my fears and paranoia scald my nerves and brain, I experience the traumatic and disorienting scenes calmly and stay sane.
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I find myself startled by the many deductions that my brain concludes, now having been freed from the fear and paranoia that no longer intrudes.
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Like rising bubbles of swamp gas, my emotions manifest in my dreams, stretching the fabric of reality to a bursting point and tearing the seams.
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For I've just recently begun a new job for the first time in fourteen years, the anxiety of which is illustrated as I juggle dynamite before my peers.
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Another recent change has been my rapid loss of weight and sore throat, both worries illuminated in a dream where I'm sick and can't milk a goat.
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Having just broken up with my long time girlfriend merely a week ago, another dream places my existence as that of a light bulb that isn't aglow.
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But not all of my dreams are fraught with anxiety, paranoia and frustration, many are cooked up by a different recipe and serve as a different creation.
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After dwelling on memories of my beautiful mother who could do no wrong, I had a dream in which she came down from Heaven and sang me a song.
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After aiding my blessed children as they studied for their S.A.T test, I had an uplifting dream in which their S.A.T. scores were among the very best.
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At the end of the day, I guess dreams are our subconscious mind saying hi, a way for it to let us know that's it's actively teaching by all it does imply.
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Ultimately, like a giant imaginative onion with numerous layers of illusion, I realize that I am merely a surfer on an ocean of dreams in conclusion.
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Whirring away with enthusiasm, my mind peels away the layers and reams, blazing through this crazy, multifaceted universe....my onion ring dreams.
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Author Interview: AbaGayle Lynn
1. Do you prefer writing poems or stories? This one is a pretty hard decision for me. I like to write whatever comes to me, whether it's an idea for a novel or the beginning of a poem. Whatever I feel confident about writing - I write. 2. What is it like to be published? Being published is an incredible high that never really goes away. It not only gives you a huge sense of accomplishment, but a burst of motivation. For me, being published really pushed me to try and better my writing while also spiking my creativity. 3. What's your favorite thing about Figment? My favorite thing about Figment is the ability to openly share my work with other writers and readers. Without the support of every single person that's read my work, I wouldn't have the motivation that I do to pursue writing as a career. 4. What is your advice to aspiring writers? Never give up. If you're passionate about writing than keep doing it - it's as simple as that. There will always be people that aren't as impressed with your work as others are, but never let that effect the way you feel about writing. Instead, prove to those people that you have what it takes to be a great writer, no matter how long it takes you. 5. What's your favorite writing music? When I'm writing, listening to soft music really just focuses my mind. It could be 60s soft rock or just some acoustic stuff. I also like to adjust the music that I'm listening to so that it agrees with the subject of my writing!
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AbaGayle is a published writer from Georgia. She likes rock and alternative music, loves to go to concerts, and is Christian (which she says influences her writing). Her published titles are “Redemption” and “The Beauty of Art”. On figment, she has many stories such as “The Truth”, “The Brightest Star”, “White Tag”, and many others. Check her out at http://figment.com/users/191118AbaGayle-Lynn-
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or her blog http://abbisbooknook.blogspot.com/
Thanks AbaGayle for letting us interview you! 9
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Restless Nights By Adam Aldrich
The yearning moon beckons and screams out in rage, My bestial sensibilities tearing free of the human cage.
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Muscles quiver, pop, stretch, and expand in response, My humanity being sabotaged in a manner to ensconce. Wickedly sharp teeth burst from my gums as they heavily bleed, A carnal howl ripping its way out from my throat as it’s freed.
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The gnawing hunger is upon me and I can’t navigate an escape, My wolfish instincts compelling me to change form and shape. As the last trembling twitches course throughout my frame, The metamorphosis completes and my urgent appetite is aflame.
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The exotic and intoxicating scents of the night caress my soul, The predatory impulse overriding my brain and swallowing me whole. Running on all fours through the gloomy and warm forest night, My nostrils catch the scent of nearby prey to my craving delight.
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As my keen lycanthropic eyes peer through the foggy air, I see a male and female human walking toward me as a pair. Slobber drools from my mouth as my jaws flex in anticipation, The human couple drawing nearer becoming my only fixation.
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A heavy blanket of fog hovers in the air and masks my approach, The idle humans unaware that I’m about to attack and encroach. My vicious snarl splits the night as I leap at the man’s throat, A torrent of gory blood fountaining out as his scream dies on note.
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I climb atop his squirming body and rip out chunks of his flesh, Gulping them down as the man beneath me begins to thresh. It’s then that the sad woman’s panting breath perks up my ears, Her mad, desperate dash through the forest inspiring her tears.
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Roused by the thrill of the chase, I sprint after her on all fours, Thrilled by my supremacy of the wilderness and the outdoors. Within seconds, I chase the scared female down to the ground, Quickly extinguishing her life before she makes another sound.
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Grabbing her torn dress with my bloodied teeth, I drag her along, After laying her body beside her mate, I howl out and sing my song. I then begin to feast upon the meat and savor my recent kills, A cacophony of wild sounds being orchestrated from the hills.
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Creatures of the night responding in kind and regaling my reign, Thankful that my prey wasn’t them and that they weren’t slain. I am the alpha male of this forest and my rule is undisputed, My animal ferocity and cunning being savage and undiluted.
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The massive forest offers plenty of game and occasions to hunt, My command of this domain being merciless and brutally blunt. Lazily stretching out upon the ground with my belly now full, I feel a nap washing over me as sleep initiates its seductive pull.
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My anxious body begins to change and regress to original form, Muscles, nerves, bones, and cells undergoing a biological storm. Despite the searing pain which overwhelms and wracks my frame, I heartily laugh aloud as my mouth reconfigures and I feel tame.
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My recollection is fading and receding like the outgoing tide, I’m cloaking myself in secrecy again and can now easily hide.
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Though it’s not proper, my sins claim of me no guilt or reproach, When the lycanthrope curse arises, I can’t prevent its approach.
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The horrors of memory wash away from me like a cleansing rain, Only my soul accounting for my evil and blemishing with a stain. These are the final relevant thoughts which flood my wolfish mind, Humanity restoring itself as my disposition turns shy and kind.
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The process of conversion will leave me naked and confused, My body covered with a motley of scratches and deeply bruised. I’m a fastidious man who always takes care to clean up a mess, The acting county mortician who serves whenever I transgress.
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I’m a source of countless murders who instills nightmare frights, A scourge upon society when the moon is full on restless nights.
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Copyright © 2015 by Adam Aldrich All rights reserved. This material or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
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Book Review: “The Big Crunch” by Pete Hautman Book Title: The Big Crunch Author: Pete Hautman Genre: Romance Summary (From Goodreads): June and Wes do not "meet cute." They do not fall in love at first sight. They do not swoon with scorching desire. They do not believe that they are instant soul mates destined to be together forever. This is not that kind of love story. Instead, they just hang around in each other's orbits...until eventually they collide. And even after that happens, they're still not sure where it will go. Especially when June starts to pity-date one of Wes's friends, and Wes makes some choices that he immediately regrets. From National Book Award winner Pete Hautman, this is a love story for people not particularly biased toward romance. But it is romantic, in the same way that truth can be romantic and uncertainty can be the biggest certainty of all. Published: 2011 Pages: 288 Goodreads Rating: 3.57 out of 5 Review: This book honest to goodness is a life changer. I couldn’t put it down! It has a rollicking, wild plot, and is just the right kind of romance: touching, sweet, tense, true, real. Every scene is exquisite. I honestly don’t have any problems, except that it was all I could talk about the next day. “The Big Crunch”, with its perfect characters and addictive readability, is definitely recommended. My Rating: 5 out of 5!!!! 13
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She Cried By Adam Aldrich
Staring with great remorse at the locket that she held in her trembling hand, the lady cried. In reality, it had only been a week now since her beloved husband had drowned and died.
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Sitting beneath a large oak tree, she looked at the nearby river where he’d lost his life. Although they’d known each other since childhood, she’d only recently married him and become his wife.
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Throughout their entire time together, she’d known that they’d get married and have the perfect marriage. She’d always dreamed about it while lying in bed at night or when riding on his horse drawn carriage.
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When that heavenly day finally did arrive, she’d put on her luxurious wedding dress with tremendous pride. When she’d walked down the aisle and said her vows, her heart had thrilled at being his bride.
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The week thereafter had been the most glorious time in her short and youthful existence. Although there’d been many suitors for her hand, she’d turned them all down, no matter their persistence.
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The reason for her denials to so many proposals of marriage could be rather easily explained. She’d been enchanted by her husband since they’d first met, spawning a love that she still maintained.
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Just then, as she was lost in her wandering thoughts, a noise came to her ear. Glancing around at the land surrounding her, and then at the river itself, she felt deep fear.
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A deep, masculine voice had called out her name just now, when she was sitting all alone. A voice that she easily recognized as belonging to her husband, one for which she couldn’t atone.
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Then a startling thing occurred as a fine mist of river water swirled up into a shape. As it sat there hovering silently above the river, she stared at it with her mouth agape.
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Although it bore a watery resemblance to her late husband, her shocked mind still refused to believe. She watched with dumbfounded disbelief as the watery figure addressed her in a manner impossible to achieve.
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As the afternoon sunlight shimmered on her husband’s watery form, he spoke her name aloud once more. Then he began to tell her how much he loved her, just like he’d done before.
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He told her that her spiritual existence wouldn’t end here on this earthly plane when she died. He told her that death was a transition, that she shouldn’t fear it by trying to hide.
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He explained to her that their souls never die, that they merely advance to another spiritual plane. He comforted her by telling her that he wasn’t imaginary, that he was real and that she was sane.
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She watched, spellbound, as he waved his arm through the air, creating a watery window to see. Then, from within that shimmering portal, she could see a world that was breathtakingly beautiful and peacefully free.
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She was also able to see a large group of loved ones and friends who’d passed. People who were dear to her and through which her good times and memories had been amassed.
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They stood there together, just on the other side, waving happily to her and looking content. It quickly became obvious that they were trying to ease her fear of death through their loving intent.
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As abruptly as it’d appeared, the shimmering window suddenly disappeared and vanished from sight with a brilliant flash. The watery form of her husband then apologized for frightening her and for being so rudely brash.
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He told her that it tormented him to see her so depressed and in so much agonizing pain. He said that he wanted her to live free, without his death proving to be a stain.
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Sitting there in the middle of the forest, she’d never before felt so much overwhelming warmth and love. She now knew, without any doubt, that God was real and had blessed her from Heaven above. 15
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Then her husband asked her if she’d take him into her arms and comfort his soul. When she said yes, he drifted across the river and embraced her, making her feel whole.
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As she held him close, he said that he loved her and then evaporated in her arms. From that day forth, she lived her life to its fullest and savored all of life’s many charms.
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Poem: Believe By Adrianne Etheridge
and the eyes of April peeked out from their stone faces believe they whispered pushing down the barcades smashing the shutters anything to let the light flood in anything at all to let the light shine in and so the child bled out on the stairs and the tailor went without his supper and the men sailed to the edge of the world with belief on their lips and a knife in their hands they caught the moon's lover and let her drown they took their belief that the world was flat and sailed right off the edge tell me when to wake up tell me to wake up with a gun in my hand and I'll show that belief isn't the prayer that the trigger won't be pulled it's in the knowledge of the bullet hole tell me what belief is and I'll collect your breadcrumb words just so you can eat them
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and when they saw terrible things they ran from the window and fled to the fire
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Want to be in the next issue of Poets United Magazine, out in late August 2015? Then turn in your entries on the Poets United Group at Figment! (figment.com) !
Questions? Comments? Leave your thoughts at the group or comment on Violet Tomilson’s profile! !
A huge thank you to all our contributors: -Violet Tomilson -Adrianne Etheridge -Adam Aldrich -AbaGayle Lynn ! ! ! !
See you next issue! :D
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