New Age Poetry, birthed from the invention of the Internet and the quiet ease of
the see and be seen online arts culture phenomenon, is an evolution from the
debasement and violence of the White Culture/geopolitical machine age of the
20th Century. Not unlike Apocalypse poetry or Anarchist poetry, the darkness of
hedonism is presented and healed through reclaiming cultural/spiritual
enlightenment. Introducing respect for women, minorities, nature, and Romance,
the New Age Poet reclaims life as a dance within the Holy Spirit way. Borrowing
from elements of the past, particularly Imagism, the style is pared in, every
word carefully considered, painting pictures with words using natural images in
a constructed stream of consciousness. Also presenting the juxtaposition of
supernatural significance with illogical, grand, intuitive associations without
a clear linear path, out of place, out of time, harkens to the writings of the
Symbolists. And the Asian sensibility of Haiku may present itself, with elements
of the profound, details of nature in a breath. A progression from the Modernist
school of free verse and the hidden rhyme schemes of the Post-moderns, the white
magic of rhyme begins to show itself with the influences of the Beat Poets and
Rap Music of North America, yet sparingly, a recent development. In old Wiccan
magic, spells were cast as poetry, the rhyme of the words white magic that
theoretically, would make the words come true. (N.B.: one would have to be
careful what one wished for, hopefully only good things like the attentions of a
special love interest). Themes include war, violence, love, peace, historical moments in
time and the entire landscape of inspiration from the weather to emotions, art,
paintings, movies, songs, news, presenting the truth inside the worship of the
Holy Spirit, New Age Poetry spinning mythologies that heal. New Age Poetry is
poetry that bangs in the dance, it is exciting, makes the world shake and on a
good day may change your life.
- the editor at Subterranean Blue Poetry
Out of Our Flesh
by Steve Klepetar
All night we came alive
rolling on this bed
bringing us home
fused from elements
gathered in the nebulae of soul.
Mornings we are dazed
our eyes averted
we stumble toward
fragrant with daylight
overflowing from hands
rendered humble with joy
Stepping out of our flesh
we leap from this trembling
boat into amber water
find we are made of light
we sparkle and dance
on the surface of this lake
dive deep and are refracted
vanish into its depths and reeds
Music of Cold Days
by Steve Klepetar
Here is the music of cold
days ready to break
song of chipped teeth
and bruised tongue
a prayer to now, a chant
to the magic of change
prophecy of wind’s
warm kiss one last
note held, mouth swollen
and raw, some blast of air
trumpeting this birth
here in the Midwest
where trees grip river’s
edge where nothing
blossoms yet, where iron
gray sky trembles
as stars fall, as the moon
sinks onto startled beds
of waters ripped
from rock, piercing
granite and sand in a wild
rush to tumble and breathe.
by Anca Mihaela
butterflies grow under my skin,
with overwhelming aroma?
Will you still say good bye
sixteen times per a day?...
their wings paint
the rhythm of your Heart,
with its elegant brushes?
Will you still say good bye,
during the electric nights?...
with their own swirling dance
bring your breath nearer
to taste the endless similarities?
Will you still say good bye
during the fleeting hours?
And.... do you know
where the butterflies go
when lavender kisses touch you
in the night?!...
Featured Poet: W.B.Yeats
The White Birds
by W.B. Yeats
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!
Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections – April 15th, 2014 - Anonymous
Starbucks. Five sugars. - m4w (Creamy Coffee Land)
U put 5 sugars in ur coffee and it excited the crap out of me.
We briefly discussed the awesomeness of cream...then I dashed.
Best coffee all week: same time 2morrow?
(N.B.: o’ yes! – note from the editor)
Arrhythmia, Imagist poetry in the New Age school.
Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry
Title of Book: Arrhythmia
Author: Janice Tokar
Publisher: above/ground press
Date of Publication: 2014
Page Count: 13
“Poetry inside the breath of Summer” Arrhythmia by Janice Tokar is a dance with
Imagist and Symbolist influences that celebrates. Poet Tokar lives and works in
Ottawa and has had poetry published in Arc Poetry Magazine, Bywords Quarterly
Journal, ottawater, The Peter F. Yacht Club amonst others. A previous edition of
this Chapbook won a secondplace award in the Tree Press Chapbook Contest 2012.
This long poem begins inside nature imagery and the quiet disconnection of slow
The forest breathes north
for a thousand miles
a slow, deep exhale
of patient resuscitation
We fill our lungs
saturate each pulse”
Deliciously, the language paints images of nature including glaciers, seaweed,
lake, ocean, birds, moon, clouds amongst others. There is a concise economy of
language, every word is carefully chosen, pared in and runs as if in a
constructed train of consciousness. In free verse, this poetry occasionally
displays disguised rhymes.
Pinned by a dented
last year’s calendar
still mounts the wall
kept for its pictures
of Audubon songbirds
(so I say)
This year’s is hung
loosely on top
a black and white flight
of Escherian stairs
I measure her distance
by sedimentary layers
As if inside a dream of quiet, this poetry is the celebration of a love affair,
a background theme that weaves through the work. Interestingly, the Poet uses
the word “she” or “her” in a different way. Is “she” herself in the third
person, a celebration of the Poet, she as author, the writer of lines. Or is
“she” perhaps a woman as romantic interest. (I tend to think it is the former as
she is married to someone named Roland in her “with thanks” dedication at the
end of the Chapbook). In any case a fascinating entrenous.
When she left
hard choices made
tossed in the Falls
we’d sail free
But the beginning rides in
on an ending’s wake”
“x. On a calm day the canvas splits
along the lakeside’s edge
and its inverse dream
Your black mask and fins
pierce the blue sky
on the underside
Exciting edible poetry. The long poem weaves a love affair inside the perfection
of nature and time. Arrhythmia, by the beat of the heart by Poet Janice
Rebecca Anne Banks is at home in Montreal. She is the CEO/Artist at Tea
at Tympani Lane Records (www.tympanilanerecords.com) and the Book Reviewer at
The Book Reviewer (www.thebookreviewer.ca).
Anca Mihaela Bruma, I am Romanian living in Dubai/UAE. My love for poetry
started when I was just 9 years old, when I registered myself to some creative
poetry writing group. It was a turning point for me as I started to discover the
mysteries of the written word and its impact on the readers.
Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart
Prize and Best of the Net. Three collections appeared in 2013: Speaking to the
Field Mice (Sweatshoppe Publications), Blue Season (with Joseph Lisowski,
mgv2>publishing), and My Son Writes a Report on the Warsaw Ghetto (Flutter
Press). An e-chapbook, Return of the Bride of Frankenstein, has just been
published by Kind of a Hurricane Press.
Janice Tokar lives and works in Ottawa, Canada. She has had poetry
published in Arc Poetry Magazine, The Peter F. Yacht Club, Experiment-O,
ottawater and Bywords Quarterly Journal. A previous edition of Arrhythmia
received a secondplace award in the Tree Press Chapbook Contest 2012.
W.B. Yeats was born in Dublin, Ireland. His father was a portrait painter
and a lawyer. He attempted an Irish Literary Revival and helped found the Abbey
Theatre as well as being a leading light in literary circles in London. He is a
playwright, Symbolist Poet and Irish Senator. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for
Literature, writing about Irish legends, the occult, masks, cyclical theories of
life and more. His most famous works include The Wild Swans at Coole, Michael
Robartes and the Dancer, The Tower, The Winding Stair and Other Poems, Last
Poems and Plays, The Countess Cathleen, The Land of Heart’s Desire amongst