List/Grid

Tag Archives: Poetry

The Last Opus of the Sea ~ Julius Anne

The Last Opus of the Sea ~ Julius Anne

Oh they grow careless.
And we are daring.

They called us brave,
scouring these fathoms for lost cultures.
Lost like lovers.

Release ~ Jhoany Benitez

Release ~ Jhoany Benitez

With my bare hands,
I come for you.
With my long, desperate fingers,
I reach within
And silently
Come for you.

Dear Annonymous 1.001 ~ Raj Venkata

Dear Annonymous 1.001 ~ Raj Venkata

Dear ——,

I think I know why your voice is so quiet.

I think it’s because you’re a giraffe in a forest of very tall trees,
surrounded by clumsy little deer who all leap and scramble
desperately and neurotically to reach pinches of high up leaves.

For B ~ Jhoany Benitez

For B ~ Jhoany Benitez

In my dreams, I am merely but a restless bee who,
Gently prickles you,
My budding tulip,
And savors the golden nectar concealed between your velvet skin of red.

A Night: Called Home ~ Julius Anne

A Night: Called Home ~ Julius Anne

The Johnsonville Press would like to introduce a new poet, Julius Anne. Julius is a gifted poet and we are excited to have his work featured in our publication. We hope you enjoy his work as much as we do.

A Brief Tragedy in Blank Verse That Is At Least Superficially About Ninjas ~ Raj Venkata

A Brief Tragedy in Blank Verse That Is At Least Superficially About Ninjas ~ Raj Venkata

There is a quiet little restaurant
out in a just as quiet part of Queens.
The name: “Master Hiroshi’s Ninja Grill.”

Sappho the Housewife ~ Edward Alan Bartholomew

Sappho the Housewife ~ Edward Alan Bartholomew

1.

butter
lop
it liberally
silver clinging

In Which I Break My Poor Muse’ Heart For No Good Reason ~ Raj Venkata

In Which I Break My Poor Muse’ Heart For No Good Reason ~ Raj Venkata

You are to be praised and commended for your valiant efforts over the tenure of my miserable life, love. You have admirably played the role of mother, lover, sister in… Read more »

Worthless Poet Blues ~ Raj Venkata

Worthless Poet Blues ~ Raj Venkata

I could write at the sky
till I humble and silence
all of the heavens combined.

I could wrap my words
‘round the span of your skin
Like so many miles of twine

and Else ~ Edward Alan Bartholomew

and Else ~ Edward Alan Bartholomew

I.
Dust ascends
almost up to
the lamp and
curls around: