Tag Archives: Dramatic poetry

Eyes holding storms.

By Lotté Jean Elliott

beautiful ravens
pillage this profanity, the venom in my arteries
bleeding out like soundtracks to soulless villains
scars on the organs, wounded openings
an open port, a haven of injury ready for careless remarks
i’m in a tender spot

i feel the acid radiating away the pained thoughts
but i’m nothing but a thought in the air
please, when will i heal
i want to feel secure, a safe haven
when will my body become my own again
not powered by broken beings.


Lotté Jean Elliott is a writer based in Northern England. She is the published author of a fiction novel, THE DAMNED SOCIETY, poetry collections LETTERS TO JUPITER and NIGHTS IN THE SNOW GARDEN and an upcoming screenwriter. She has works featured in Literary Mark, Brave Voices Magazine, Sledgehammerlit and BBC Newcastle.

A Question and an Answer

By S. T. Brant

How do you write? How can you think? How can you be free? There is no way…

You’re looking for no place. You have come about in an age where angels are dead,

all stars dying. 

Dwindling instead of burning, 

meaning without Meaning.

Bonaventura didn’t claim the self was god,

though I wish he did.

He said the self can become- can join god. 

The self can never be lost,

it can always be augmented. 

All things lead back to center; 

all can be absorbed, 

all leads up.

There is no distinction between lost and found; 

The self is always journeying,

so if it’s lost it’s on its way;

if it’s sure of itself, it should keep the path.

The journey never wavers from the soul’s circumference. 


S. T. Brant is a teacher from Las Vegas. Pubs in/coming from EcoTheo, Timber, Door is a Jar, Santa Clara Review, Rain Taxi, New South, Green Mountains Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Ekstasis, 8 Poems, a few others. You can find him on Twitter or Instagram

Defense of Wonder

By S. T. Brant

What is there worth Wondering if all’s inclined against it;
If all’s determined to destroy the wonder and amazement
Innate in us: If the world to wonder at defies our wondering,
Is our natural sense of wonder not an antagonist to Nature
And to god that we are stubborn devils in the pit wasting
Mystic powers pouting, O earthly interpreter of heaven? 
O align with Bonaventure, with our grandest saints-

the path to what’s worth terming god
is through the world that hopes we discover 
in it the wonder that reaches for it; 

it is our worldly robes that obstructs
our heart’s wonder from touching
the wonder in the lowly stones.

Wonder wants to wander and wants wonder.


S. T. Brant is a teacher from Las Vegas. Pubs in/coming from EcoTheo, Timber, Door is a Jar, Santa Clara Review, Rain Taxi, New South, Green Mountains Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Ekstasis, 8 Poems, a few others. You can find him on Twitter or Instagram

Love as Job

By S.T. Brant

Love never rests. It moves, in Death, you to and fro

over glades, dells, the moor,

Deserts, what land there is to trespass; loves do so

hand in hand. Death

Is the wind that chills the living’s skin, but lovers

are not disquieted,

They amble in the weather as though all is sunshine

always and nosegays

Lined created. They may. For those that stroll the earth

contented in eternity;

Sleepless through the legion sorrows fought off

in life; to ramble

With amorous, undefeated spirits in rumored darkness,

though their spirits’ armor,

Its dents and scars and cavities from life’s swords show:

Love moves them all

The more on and on and on past the power their gravestones.


S. T. Brant is a teacher from Las Vegas. Pubs in/coming from EcoTheo, Timber, Door is a Jar, Santa Clara Review, Rain Taxi, New South, Green Mountains Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Ekstasis, 8 Poems, a few others. You can find him on Twitter or Instagram

flash

By Emma Geller

you called me 
a lightning bolt
in a bottle,
i was all 

electric light.
against the background
of the mountains, 

electric light 
against the sky.

silent instead, i shocked you
with my smile, eyes wide,
running away, stopping 
for no one. 

when i left, 
you didn’t know
i was still there, 
next to you,

I had become
your shadow
of smoke, 
your burnout.


Emma Geller is a poet, singer, and actress from Boston, MA. Her poetry has been featured in various publications, including Quillkeeper’s Press, Honeyfire Literary Magazine and Calliope’s Eyelash. You can find out more about Emma on Instagram at em_me_line.

virgin

By Emma Geller

with violent lace
& bridal veil,
she made promises
no one else could keep.

unless one wished
to die on a bed,
all white & naked 
with remorse for him. 

with his ugly rage 
that coursed in river streams,
it raged all over her, 
she’s drowning

with his ugly rage 
that coursed in river streams,
it raged all over her, 
she’s drowning


Emma Geller is a poet, singer, and actress from Boston, MA. Her poetry has been featured in various publications, including Quillkeeper’s Press, Honeyfire Literary Magazine and Calliope’s Eyelash. You can find out more about Emma on Instagram at em_me_line.

History is a pocket watch

By Lotté Jean Elliott

i’m watching down from the tower
a drunken musician, a crying writer
an artisan with no muse, a frozen painter.
energy consumed, floating away as they reach their ends
passion dead, radiance long hidden.
is this the body of art, where we must be pushed to edges
to be revived
i’m watching from the tower, clinging to a saviour
a brain, refused
an act, does not fleet or freeze but needs reinvigorating.

i take a sleep on this, and wake to a new point
this art, that is buried in our lungs, our bloodstream.
it does not die nor does our muse
it is all around, waiting to be claimed.


Lotté Jean Elliott is a writer based in Northern England. She is the published author of a fiction novel, THE DAMNED SOCIETY, poetry collections LETTERS TO JUPITER and NIGHTS IN THE SNOW GARDEN and an upcoming screenwriter. She has works featured in Literary Mark, Brave Voices Magazine, Sledgehammerlit and BBC Newcastle.

Ing

By Lotté Jean Elliott

feelings like a lost cause
planets circulating around empty homes
faces hiding behind envy
skins leaving their true loves.

i’m wondering, lying, feeding, soothing
everything
is a thing, of purity and loveliness
till the branding, crumbles, withering, dying
i wonder of the escape from this
wandering
i want to learn to fly.


Lotté Jean Elliott is a writer based in Northern England. She is the published author of a fiction novel, THE DAMNED SOCIETY, poetry collections LETTERS TO JUPITER and NIGHTS IN THE SNOW GARDEN and an upcoming screenwriter. She has works featured in Literary Mark, Brave Voices Magazine, Sledgehammerlit and BBC Newcastle.

iris

By Emma Geller

between the shutters, i saw
the shadow of your body but

in our dreams we were kissing, 
in a meadow of ashes & iris.

your pretty lips, a tropical storm 
destroying me, so when you 

flew away, i wanted to chase you,
but i couldn’t move.


Emma Geller is a poet, singer, and actress from Boston, MA. Her poetry has been featured in various publications, including Quillkeeper’s Press, Honeyfire Literary Magazine and Calliope’s Eyelash. You can find out more about Emma on Instagram at em_me_line.

Prayer

By Matthew A O’Shea

Arms spread eagle
screeching parables
preaching, avian, predatory.
Pontiffs upon pulpits
direct the huddled mass.
All plans, all plots, all schemes.
Fire, brimstone, no between,
“Welcome to His lair”

Warriors kneel
awaiting blessings
silent, bloodshot, solemn.
Divine sovereigns
salute thirsty deities
with bone, with sinew, with regime.
Death or glory, no between,
“Give the ferryman his fare”. 

Desperate men
begging gently
broken, pathetic, guilty.
A thousand voices
glide into the void.
All fears, all hopes, all dreams.
Wishing, pleading, sacred screams.
All of them in prayer.


Matthew A O’Shea is currently having his existential crisis in Scotland. He studies Philosophy and Theology at Glasgow University, which he believes isn’t helping. You can find him on Twitter and Instagram.