An Accepted Poem, and I Missed It... Go Figure

So I went to Submittable last night to check on something and discovered quite by accident that  one of three poems I had submitted to Nude Bruce Review last year (yes, I said Nude Bruce)  was actually accepted in August. Woot!

I feel like a fool for missing it. I don't usually check Submittable for results, instead watch my e-mail. This reply went to an old email address that I am you using for writing related stuff any more.

The poem titled Without You is located on page 86  of the Spring Issue or Issue 5 CLICK HERE and scroll to the page.

Mag 237: Snow Blindness

The shear delight in soft white.
A burst of morning on my horizon.
Dangling, delicate, delicious.
Woven  intricacies of light and space.
I am lost in the bright blight of colorlessness.
Entranced in my own snow blizzard




Michael Allyn Wells


Mag 237

Poetry Broadside for Poetry Month 2014

Some of you may have received a poetry month broadside from me in the past years to commemorate National Poetry Month.  After taking a couple years break I have created a new one for 2014.

These are limited. There are 100 signed copies. They are printed on a nice card stock and have a matte finish. I've seen some of my earlier ones framed and they look very nice. If you would like one simply email me Michael Wells telling me you would like one and give me a snail mail address that it can be sent to.

Again their are only 100, and when they are gone, well, they are gone.

Mag 212: My Life Between Four Corners

My Bed by Tracey Emin

It's is my world
my boxing ring
my respite
my motel-hotel
away from things-

My grunge stage
my drinking buddy...
hello vodka and Three Musketeers!

My sleep hole
my vanity
my calamity
staging ground for all things creative-

I've got my floor art
my candy wrappers
origami sheets
fluff dog

And here's my razor-not what you are thinking.
and somewhere is a phone

This is my sex den
my playpen
my aggravating
boredom whim.

I own it
I made it
no one can take it.


The mag 212


Michael Allyn Wells

TWO NEW POEMS published in BOSTON LITERARY MAGAZINE

The Spring 2014 edition of Boston Literary Magazine  is online and the print edition will be available soon as well.

I'm honored to have two new poems of mine in this edition.  As Always BLM has some great work in it. The editors do a fine job!

My two poems are:

I Stole Your Voice  &  I Listen to My Cereal    Go Check Out  All the Work in the Spring Issue HERE!

My thanks to the Editors for making me a part of this magnificent edition! 

The Mag 211: House of Simon

Feast in the House of Simon - 1610, El Greco

It was evident Simon's house was the place

to be this day. More then one Apostle scratched

another event from his calendar 

to make an appearance. Even as it was in the house

of a  Pharisee-  they were in the presence of Jesus

and this would be more then a fresco 

more then a story to tell the grandchildren.

Wine was poured and hard rolls plated 

were hardly touched as Simon would offer

up question after question of the one

they called Christ who would with delicacy

of a needle on vinyl respond to each one.  

The Mag 

Michael Allyn Wells

In the Moment

I am careful not to forget
but just as careful not to dwell
in the past-

today is my fragrance of choice.
It is big enough to allow for fantasy.

It is in this moment
we can walk on gravel,
we can skate on ice,
tiptoe through clouds,
and dance on air.

Just Thinking...

"Fridays are susceptible to being more horizontal than vertical." 

The Mag 197: Aerial

From The Guardian, Eyewitness

Aerial

Copious triumph overhead
the conquest of sky by sea gulls

who blend into the blue gray skies
and abruptly are everywhere.

A sneak attack on the beach head.
A monumental event – bombarding

the shoreline with an ugly grace.
Only God could engineer aerodynamics

on such a gangling bird. Feathered wings
on a lunchbox.


Michael Allyn Wells


The Mag 197

The Mag 194

The Letter

The nights are cold without you.
The days much too long.

Distance is measured
by lustful thoughts-
I cannot help.

I send this not to guilt you
but because my lips can reach you
no other way.

I have sealed the envelope
with the dampness of my tongue in hope-
and the stamp a breath & kiss.



Michael A. Wells


The Mag 194

The Mag 193

Danseuse ajustant sa bretelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

 The Ballerina's Private Warm Up

She feels the constriction 

of a cocoon and the solitude- 

therein lies the crystalline craving 

to spin herself free.

A twirl to unwind- to whip-up

the motion to unclog the black and white

all around her-  she wishes for wind

she wishes for a spin-off of gale force

to extricate her from this morose.

She rises on her toes - shaky first

then in a solid stance her arms rise 

overhead with poise a momentary pause.

There is no music, except that alone

in her head- the composition

comes with spontaneity 

Is a powerful turn 

she thrusts herself into a running leap,

long legs scissor in defiance of gravity

then another, and a third

with a solid land- quickly

rising again to a pointe

she spins again 

shaking free of the grayness

her heart pounding

her chest heaves 

as she drops down

arms collapse to the floor

head bowing supplication...

Michael A. Wells

The Mag 193

  

MAG 190

Dog by scavangercat808

 

 

My Parallel Universe

another world out there

framed in my view— 

a world of ruckus

fast moving cars

I can chase

only in my imagination 

a postman strolls unflinched

oblivious to my bark

 

children chasing balls

will pass and give a nod

hey you they offer

no hand to pat my head 

there are noises

I can’t even identify

people   cats   birds

smells the permeate

my universe 

I know these things exist

all beyond my reach



Michael A. Wells


The Mag





The Mag 189

 

Photo credit crilleb50

 

 

RUMINATION

 

The ticking-

the constant ever after ticking.

I sit for this

I sit for that

it weighs one the mind

it bends at the heart

 

of it all, I see no reason

I hear no rhyme.

I do not cherish this passage

of time-

 

after which I know nothing of.

The grass it grows

and flowers and blooms

and goes to seed-

My knees ache

 

all the while I ruminate;

then conjugate things

of despair-

 

things I remember

that brought me here-

those that were painful

and some that were dear.

 

this ticking continues

I suppose that is good-

it's all quite foggy now

like I knew would.  

 

 

 

Michael A. Wells

 

 

 

 The Mag

 





Removing Obstacles - September 2013

anticipation contains an element of doubt
they agreed not to shake hands
agreement is good - right?

some will always want failure
act quickly - but not too fast
it seems peace often is left
to some degree of chance

Hardly Worth Mentioning

A poem I wrote several years ago found a home at Punchnel's.

 Hardly Worth Mentioning  is the second poem of mine  to appear in  Punchnel's Magazine these last two months.

I always find interesting material in Punchnel's...It's a fun stop on the Internet and not just because of my work. ;-)

Poem Up On Punchnel's

My poem titles "Both" appears on Punchnel's today. This is a really interesting venue, an eclectic collection of material. Check it out!  Oh, and click here for my poem.

Dragonfly

Surround the summit
in flight
in exacerbation of wingspan
a sentinel aloft 

The Mag 135: Venus Has The Hots

Venus and The Sailor - Salvador Dali

Venus has the hots-

her dancing shadow passes before us.

Swishing her dress about.

The seductive danseur-

she can lure us into her orbit.

We easily feel connected

if not by want then curiosity,

brilliance in the morning

and evening-  

Even mid-day she can flaunt

in our imagination - or is it?

The Mag 135

Michael A. Wells

  

Journal Bits - Sept. 8 - Sept.14

A few items from my written journal...

• September 8, 2012 - Oh how I love to start a new journal. Empty pages to welcome me. I always promise to try and be neat about my entries but I know at some point I will disappoint myself in this regard. 
• September 8, 2012 - How many unwritten considerations/belong to the wind?//The future collect unclaimed thoughts.
• September 8, 2012 - I did not speak/for bewilderment /I did not speak/for an elevator fell/to the bottom of my stomach. 
• September 9, 2012 - "The invented person, borrowed from the real- abstracted, isolated- is the person we finally know, or feel we know. I made myself up from everything I am, or could be. For many years I was more desire than fact. When I stop becoming, That's when I worry." ~ Stephen Dunn
• September 10, 2012 - There is a relevance in numbers/you can have a bullet with each one's name/with nothing to erase the massive history.
• September 11,2012 - Feeling better these past couple of days about the Obama campaign. GOP is spending money like mad but the candidates, Romney and Ryan are making so many mistakes and their campaign handlers are really amateurish. I can hope this continues.
• September 13, 2012 - Heard in a Lionel Richie song this morning on the radio during drive time... "...people want me to be what they want me to be..."
• September 13, 2012 - You keep tabs on the important stuff/the primary colors of our life/I've always dealt with the more mundane-/the black and white...
• September 14, 2012 - from a comment in Modern Poetry class, "the how of what you say is more important then what you say..."

* NOTE:  My journal is where I record notes, quotes, observations (large and small), and poetry drafts. It ranges from junk to gems.

The Mag 133: The Women of Summer Night

Summer Night - 1913 by Albert Bloch

They gather in secret

in the garden of delight

they leave behind 

much shame

and every other form

of constraint-  real or imagined

in the twilight of tenderness

they speak of no evil

they harbor no disdain

they are hear for each other

they are hear for themselves

they are here and this is why they come

The Mag 133

Michael A. Wells