children sick and fading behind the bars and sleeping guards
they took the wind shield out of the car
over the walls edged with broken glass
down to a boat on the shore
by Mark Beach
leaves, heavy with the tropical rain, slap against the truck windows
i shift my weight, feeling the contours of the road with my entire frame
we arrive late in the evening
we eat deep fried cassava by kerosene lamps
the next morning i awaken to my sister's screams
the bed in which we all slept, father, son and daughter, has a machete laying under
my sister is in the outhouse, chased there by the man who is prying open the door
i shout in the deepest voice a 9 year old has ever mustered, waving my found blade
maybe he sees the absence of fear in my eyes
or senses my desire to open his flesh, to see and smell his blood
will it smell the same as the open throated chickens in the barn? when the heat of summer
drove the taste of iron into my tongue
he backs away slowly
crazy white boy
Featured Poet: Boris Pasternak
A Sultrier Dawn
by Boris Pasternak
All morning high up on the eaves
Above your window
A dove kept cooing.
Like shirtsleeves The boughs seemed frayed.
It drizzled. Clouds came low to raid
The dusty marketplace.
My anguish on a peddlar's tray
I was afraid.
I begged the clouds that they should stop.
It seemed that they could hear me.
Dawn was as grey as in the shrub
Grey prisoners' angry murmur.
I pleaded with them to bring near
The hour when I would hear
Tidbits of shattered songs
And your wash-basin's roar and splash
Like mountain torrents' headlong rush,
The heat of cheek and brow
On glass as hot as ice and on
The pier-glass table flow.
My plea could not be heard on high
Because the clouds
Talked much too loud
Behind their flag in powdered quiet
Wet like a heavy army coat,
Like threshed sheaves' dusty rub-a-dub
Or like a quarrel in the shrub.
I pleaded with them-
Don't torment me!
I can't sleep.
But-it was drizzling; dragging feet,
The clouds marched down the dusty street
Like recruits from the village in the morning.
They dragged themselves along
An hour or an age,
Like prisoners of war,
Or like the dying wheeze:
Saturday, April 27th, 2013 – Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections – Purgatory Guy
Sketching my Muse - m4w (Postcard from Purgatory)
I have spent the night sketching you
softly, as if your skin could burn me
or your eyes show me lost maps of the stars
I take special care with your face, the gentle
curve of your cheek, the shallows of your neck
creating a definition of beauty
for which all my words will follow, the subtle
shading of the shadows that frame your gaze
the yin and yang of my heart scratching on
the page; should I whisper? Kiss you? do I
wake you from this dream we'll share in the morn?
This momentary peace while your chest rises,
falls, suddenly sure I cannot touch you
if I want to keep this moment for just
a moment longer.
Saturday, April 24th, 2013 – Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections - Anonymous
Postcard from Purgatory - Return To Sender - w4m (Poetry Purgatory)
I love reading the MCs but lately people some very specific culprits have been using it to work out their less-complex-than-they-think emotional
issues .Hey Mr. Postman I'm sure they are about 10 000 places to post mediocre poetry online, this isn't one of them. Please spare us all and save
it for your next Poetry Slam.
RE: Postcard from Purgatory - m4w (Wrong Address)
...as it turns out
But thanks for your constructive and enlightening insight. I'm sure your mother loves you, anyway
Poetry Purgatory - w4m (Poetry Purgatory)
I wish your poetry was addressed to me you have a real gift!!!
Are you freakin' kidding me?
Don't hate because you might not be as GIFTED as Purgatory poster.
Purgatory poster has the best posts on here, without a doubt.
We all need to stop criticizing each other and start LOVING each other.
Wow, what this world has come to!
Your opinions are just your opinions and nothing more.
Purgatory poster - more power to you and keep on posting whatever you would like - your posts are just spectacular!!!!!!!!!!
Honestly, I couldn't agree more with the 'enough already' perspective on 'mediocre poetry purgatory guy"
I honestly found the first couple of ones interesting and mysterious, but now its like overkill! I can't even get through readin them anymore I don't
know if they've become mundane to me or just too 'expected', but it's becoming annoying to see the same thing on MC about a 'purgatory' and then some
poetic type entries along the same predictable lines each time.
Also, I can't help but presume buddy hasn't had an actual girlfriend in his life in either a long time, or like, ever, otherwise, he would be expending
his energy on his 'love', instead of raping the poetic shit out the MC section. lol
In My Humble Opinion.
RE: Here's the thing about Poetry - m4w (Memo from Purgatory)
You may not be entirely correct in your supposition about the "Missed Connections" section judging from the amount of non spam email I recieve after posting
poetry here. Yes, Missed connections is a place where some people come to see if someone was checking them out in some random place, if that works for you and
that's all you want that's fine. But others come here hoping someone has posted something that speaks to their hearts - maybe an old flame, maybe a regret from
the recent past. Many people consider their lost loves as missed connections as well. That is what the poetry is about, and that is why people have been posting
poems here - to share with people who may feel that way. I'm afraid no one has the market cornered when it comes to understanding the way that people work - and
I would suggest that you show the same respect for those who feel that way as they do for all those posts about someone who probably didn't even look back at you
on the street.
Aside from that, I am always quite careful to label my postings for your convenience (hence the title "Postcard from Purgatory"), so that if you aren't interested,
you can skip to the next ad with certainty that you do not want to read the poem. So where exactly is your issue, something against people who like to read it?
(PS: just so everyone knows there is no one woman I'm looking for here, I don't expect to find them - but the messages I receive are an added bonus)
(PPS: I didn't write "Poetry is an expression..." a couple of lines down...I don't use MC as a meet market)
Hey Purgatory Guy - w4m
Don't feed the trolls, they're stupid enough to think they speak for everybody.
I think your poems are beautiful :)
Purgatory go away
As others have already expressed, the purgatory poster should have some respect for what should be a site for actual missed connections. Save it for your slams.
On a related note, this also isn't a site for shit-talking your ex or expressing regrets or ranting about your personal issues. It's for MISSED CONNECTIONS.
Is that so hard to understand?
poems - m4w - 87 (purgatory)
poetry is great if you dont like it move on and shut your mouth if you like it then kiss him he likes you too
Purgatory Begone! The Majority Rules! - w4m
I thought I was the only one sick of seeing purgatory guy posting here!!! This is the first time I am entertained by these low-level 'poetic' posts and it is only
because others are finally voicing their feelings about his annoying "poems" ! hehe HALLELUJAH!
And yes, I agree I agree! This is Missed Connections not Ranting About Exes and Unpublished Poet Connections!
I am counting the majority here ruling to stop the purgatory madness!
re: Purgatory Go Away (Please!) - w4m
Hey Purgatory Man, which one of us girls (or guys) are you addressing with your response to the number of us that have been expressing our disdain for your
ridiculous posts?! I'm sort of finding it funny that your response for all of us ones tired of your posts is that we should have respect for your posts yet
you can't have respect for us expressing ourselves about it? Are you possibly, not who you pretend to be? If you were truly a real 'gentleman' as you pretend
to be through your endless and badly written poems you would remain so even as us ladies express their disinterest and numerous requests for you to stop with
the misplaced posts in this section instead of your passive aggressive replies on the defence.
It must be tough in Purgatory. Please, go towards the light. Just go.
April 28, 2013 - Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections - Anonymous
Poetry and trolls
This is not the rant and rave section. The ONE (there is only one, stop bullshitting yourself), anti-poetry poster is actually a sweaty male nerd who masturbates while
typing his troll posts one-handed.
Post away Purgatory guy. I've written plenty of poetry here too in my day and 100% of the e-mails I've gotten were along the lines of how beautiful or insightful they were.
I don't imagine your experience is much different.
Dear Mr. Purgatory Guy (and everyone else)
I used to read your posts voraciously. Back when you first started, I thought they were a nice change from the usual. Your pieces weren't bad, a few even tugged at
my heartstrings and even brought a bit of no-really-I-was-just-cutting-onions to my eye. But perhaps you need to slow down.
I'm not a hater, nor am I a swooner. You can't own this forum. Not everything you post is your best work. (And I'm pretty certain there have been a few fakes, too.) I'm
all for people posting their not-really-Missed-Connections here, so long as it fits into the general spirit of lonely hearts and emotional redemption we all seek here.
However, I think you need to filter yourself a bit. I no longer read posts marked as yours. I'm tired of it, and quite a few others seem to be as well. You need to share
the playground with the other kids.
How about you post your very best only, and far less frequently? That way, the people who get all misty and wait eagerly for your stuff can have theirs, while the
rest of us can stop rolling our eyes as we filter through to the posts that really excite us.
I used to love MC so much. But these days it seems to be 90% Purgatory poems, 'Initials, please," and "DURRR, you're a coward, go talk to them instead!"
Y'all are boring. This is just my opinion, and haters gon' hate, but really, it seems so much more fun to read people's descriptions of attractive strangers,
or heartfelt, clue-laden missives written in the lonely hours by swollen hearts still just slightly too proud to shed their anonymity. Let's keep it interesting,
folks. Nobody should have a monopoly on Missed Connections.
May 5th, 2013 – Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections - Anonymous
Presents from Purgatory . . . - w4m (Girl from Heaven Contemplating Purgatory)
I love your poetry offerings Purgatory Guy. It is always difficult being in Purgatory and the poetry is good (and could use a little surface editing). Missed Connections
is a beautiful place for these offerings and in the Spirit. Please keep writing. as some girl once said "One day we'll be free and home.”
Available at: Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble in June 2013.
The Book of Blue is a modern day classic tome of love poetry, weaving a hidden darkness with great light in this story of the heart, the song of love. A chronology
of a love affair from Summer to winter and back again, the poetry entrances and leaves you wanting more. The beginning of the book features a picture of the blue dove
by Pablo Picasso, a great inspiration and artist advocate for peace, it is as if the line “Blue, you are the dove” was inspired by Picasso himself and channeled through
and in collaboration with the Poet. There are 9 Books of Blue with about 10 poems per Book, the verse is encapsulated, each Book beginning and ending with the line or
refrain “Blue, you are the dove.” As if the entire work is a chant, a lovesong to Blue, telling his story and the story of the love affair with the Poet. The title is
reminiscent of the series of fairytales by Laing (The Book of Red, The Book of Yellow . . . ) and the poems although set in the post-modern world, have a certain ethereal
light of old world magic. The nuances of landscape, time of day, season, and the imagery of the natural world are knit into a spellbinding array of poems. One of the
constant images is the sky as a whole enveloping body that holds the world together, a sacred and sanctuary place – “ I long to gather you in, a place, inside the sky.”
Another constant image is the color blue that also toggles to be the pronoun Blue, a person. The use of blue as the idea of deep clean water and/or some clear color of
sunlight creates a sense of the space/person as sacred. There is also the modern adage of blue as “the blues”, an emotional state of depression, the state of having too
many lovers – “lost inside the night blue and wandering”. The poetry is a prayer of worship, however there is a hidden dialectic of violence that like dark water winds its
way through the storyline of The Book of Blue – “Blue, the road and sky your home” and “as if I could hold you” and “any peace you may find”. As if the state of this
post-modern love affair exists in a place of great longing and war. Reminiscent of great love poetry, the work is riveting. As if drawing from classical works, The Book
of Blue, recreates the story of love; the poetry rhymes unexpectedly and without cliché, discards most punctuation, and is a true expression of hope in a lost world, a
truly unique and captivating read. As if written with The Muse of Montreal, an inculcation of the street, the music of rivers blue and sky, the wanderlust and magic of
les Francais, the island people. The influences of Leonard Cohen, the pared down love of language, every word is carefully considered as if from inside a trance with
elements of prophecy. It is the poetry of the Poet as Oracle. The poetry also reflects the essence of Haiku, the quiet lightening of bare bones and the unexpected. The
poems dwell in the bud of romance, and linger as if the love affair never fully flowers until perhaps the Ninth Book of Blue. And the significance of the 9 Books could
play on the old Number 9 refrain of the Beatles, the oxymoron of a lost and broken world destined to remain broken. The Book of Blue, the story of a deep and enduring
love, the poetry timeless, something born of the true romance of the old world and a marriage made in heaven. With the last line before the refrain, “ “yours forever” and
asleep . . . “ the bones of love rest, perhaps in covenant, perhaps having never been fully realized. However, in a world at war with itself, as the last husks of
modernism fall away to flower into the imagine peace of the New Age, The Book of Blue is the classic story of love itself that remains.
Available at Amazon.
Available at: Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble in June 2013.
The Angel is a work of quiet genius. This book of poetry a modern love dialectic rings of the Gothic Cathedral, the struggle of the birth into the New Age.
Inspired by The Muse, the Archangel Gabriel and the angel statue “The Eye” by David Altmejd the poems write as if taking the reader on the journey of the Oracle, a dialogue
of the sacred and the profane. The book of poems features a photo installation of “The Eye” angel statue by Victor Tangermann, the photographs riveting. The statue
is absolutely engaging, one cannot resist the compulsion to walk around it and snap photographs. “The Eye” statue, the hollow space in the chest, the hands caressing
the face, a treatise on love and as if the tattered, beautiful angel was a casualty from a war zone, artistically a marvel. The poetry is the idea of a love affair
within the dialectic of the Old World, love in the time of war. As if the Poet is in dialogue with a fallen angel, possibly an archangel, The Angel, who as he travels
the apocalypse becomes redeemed (whether the love affair is redeemed remains in question, possibly a testament to the tumultuous times). It is the idea of the Angel as
a person of the street, “street angel heart” an object of worship “he carries the quiet as he sits by the street the Buddha one . . . “ as if everyman is an eloquent
beggar before the Lord. In the backdrop of great turmoil, the setting is of a haunted inner city of decaying infrastructure and grey stone saved by images of angels,
sunlight, forest, sky and rain. Borrowing from Neo-classical archetypes, the cult of nature, the idea of man as fallible and in search of God there is a reference to
Hamlet by the Poet William Shakespeare. And although there is a casual rhyme schemata, occasionally you can find an original rhyming couplet at the end of a poem aka
Shakespeare. There is also a passing reference to T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland (that in turn was influenced by Dante Alighieri’s Inferno) with the idea of journey through
the desert/hell and a hidden dialectic of war, a battle between good and evil. As if in The Angel, there is a struggle between damnation and redemption, the fallen angel
and the love affair with the Poet –“the ring of gold, blue sky cathedral in the rain.” The poem is also influenced by Biblical allusions of the New Testament and
particularly Revelations. The 21st century bead drawn on style, with the short truncated lines and occasional rhyming owes itself to the influence of the Beat Poets
and the post-moderns. A truly powerful book of love poems set in the times of the apocalypse calling us to a better understanding of the song of the Holy Spirit, the
song of love. “The Eye” statue has one arm that is bare straifed, like a mecano, possibly alluding to the machine of the Industrial Economy. The Angel, representative
of the blasphemy of the Machine Age with atomic weapons and 2 World Wars, the war economy and the violence of the heart away from the light, star-crossed lovers in exile,
passing into the New Age of Imagine Peace through the magic of the Internet and the rediscovery of the tenets of the Holy Spirit, it is the rediscovery of love itself.
Mark Beach. i was born and raised in rural ontario and spent time living in europe and west africa as a child. my first attempt poetry
was rejected outright by my grade 9 english teacher. "Too dark", she whispered. i've focused more on music since then, but i've recently injured
my hand quite badly, and am seeking out that stifled voice.
Grace Morai. To me art is my sanctuary, my way of connecting with myself and my creator and those who appreciate my art. It keeps me
grounded. To not draw would be like not breathing.
Boris Leonidovich Pasternak. was born in Moscow into a wealthy Russian Jewish family, his father a post impressionist painter and professor,
his mother a concert pianist. He is a renowned Russian Language Poet, literary translator and novelist. The Poet Pasternak was awarded the Nobel Prize
in literature for the novel Dr. Zhivago. The novel was refused publication in the U.S.S.R. for not being inline with political Socialist rhetoric, he
reluctantly refused the award because of the negative reaction by the state. He is best known for the books of poetry My Sister, Life, On Early Trains,
Over the Barriers, Poems and the novel Dr. Zhivago.