Poems eligible for 2017 Rhysling Awards



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Poems eligible for 2017 Rhysling Awards
John C. Mannone

jcmannone@gmail.com




A Few Select poems (7 of 29) in the Short Poem Category: Contents
Stellar Quake, New England Journal of Medicine, Sep 2016

http://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMc1606937#t=article


Wormwood, Pedestal Magazine (Issue 79, edited by Bruce Boston & Marge Simon), Dec 2016

http://www.thepedestalmagazine.com/john-c-mannone-wormwood/


undying, Eye To The Telescope, Issue 22, Oct 2016

http://eyetothetelescope.com/archives/022issue.html


Emancipation, Eye To The Telescope, Issue 21, July 2016

http://eyetothetelescope.com/archives/021issue.html


You Always Said You Could Swim Like a Fish, Altered Reality Magazine, Aug 2016

http://www.alteredrealitymag.com/you-always-said/


White Lightning, On the Veranda Literary Journal, Issue 1.10, Nov 2016

https://ontheverandaliteraryjournal.wordpress.com/issues/issue-1-10/


Butterfly Wings, Peacock Journal, Dec 2016

http://peacockjournal.com/john-c-mannone-four-poems/



A Few Select poems (7 of 29) in the Short Poem Category: Poems

Stellar Quake, New England Journal of Medicine, Sep 2016

http://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMc1606937#t=article

Stellar Quake
Sometimes there’s a rift in the skin

of a neutron star caused by a quake

below its gravity-hard crust.

Superfluid protons spew out

with other exotic blood

if only for a few moments

before intense magnetic fields

suture the star shut. Yet it still spins

on its axis, pulses with precision,

before the next burst. It’s amazing


what one can learn about stars

from a television in a hospital room.

The good doctor, making his rounds

like clockwork, stands at the door

with his clipboard, for a moment

—a silhouette in frazzled glow

of hall light—before coming in

with the news. I sensed the tangled light

in his eyes. And I knew the hardened

skin of my heart would break tonight


in the darkness of my own universe.
Wormwood, Pedestal Magazine (Issue 79, edited by Bruce Boston & Marge Simon), Dec 2016

http://www.thepedestalmagazine.com/john-c-mannone-wormwood/



Wormwood
He goes to the only church he ever knew. The observatory entrance is littered with gum wrappers and cigarette butts. His mother’s King James, tucked in the folds, leathers his spring jacket. She insisted he take it—a worn edition bookmarked to Revelation 8. He shifts his gaze to the naked sky, it sparkles innocence, but the star he stares at—the one she called Absinthian—bitters the night.
He opens the dome, slews the refractor above the treetops to Corvus, the constellation rooking the night. The waning moon spotlights the patch of stars. He zooms in; watches the image grow out of the soft blur into hard focus on the computer monitor. Comet Walker-McQueen, an Everest-size rock, falls from the heavens. The ultimate catastrophe. He calculates as he had a dozen times before, hoping, praying they are faulty. They are not. The wishful echo of a hoax had faded months ago.
When he left his mom’s, the TV blared—so much looting, riots. He mumbles we are all pawns, that the world is going to hell, but his sister found religion. His coworkers had spoken of their spirituality—the stars gave them birth; the stars will scatter their dust to the infinities.
He empties his pockets: coins, keys, a Waterman safety pen…his father’s straight razor. It shimmers in the computer-green light. The comet’s getting bigger. He pours a whiskey and swivels to the chess set; pieces already positioned. Dials the phone. “Grandfather. It’s my move…Knight-to-Queen’s Bishop 3.”
undying, Eye To The Telescope, Issue 22, Oct 2016

http://eyetothetelescope.com/archives/022issue.html



undying
let the spirits of the dead

slip through God’s fingers



|| re-enter your bodies || feel

yourselves quiver exhaling

black dust || unchoke coal

from your throats || watch

tons deluge from walls ||

ceiling || move away from

the final entrance || step

back into the elevator ||

start laughing halfway up

the shaft || at a joke about

mine safety and waiting for

someone to unkill the bill

for more inspections ||

try to forget the undying

allegiance || laugh some

more || slip past the door



|| put your helmet & gear

in the corner of your

shanty and unbreak your

wife’s heart || unpress

your lips hard to hers ||

sit at the kitchen table



|| unswirl the coffee

from the cup || untaste

the eggs before they’re

returned to pan to shell ||

don’t pray with your wife

|| slip back into bed ||

untouch her || don’t listen

to the rooster || don’t let

the dawn in

Emancipation, Eye To The Telescope, Issue 21, July 2016

http://eyetothetelescope.com/archives/021issue.html



Emancipation
It’s a hundred years later and I imagine sharing a bowl of collard greens and cornbread with Abraham Lincoln, but he isn’t dressed in his presidential garb, just jeans and a red plaid shirt; clean shaven. We’re sitting in a small diner in Baltimore. A hickory tree just outside our window. There’s a chill in the air and we order a good hot cup of coffee and… apples. Mr. Lincoln likes apples, all of them. (We saw a bowl of bananas and Golden Delicious on the counter when we came in.) But the coffee is tepid and a bit bitter. Food is supposed to be simpler than politics. But some places are integrated in name only, overt inequality continues to lurk in the smallest corners. We talk about the war, the promises. The creases in his forehead deepen as we look at the still black & white TV, its raster flickering the Riots: looting and fires; smoke. Tears well up in his eyes.
You Always Said You Could Swim Like a Fish, Altered Reality Magazine, Aug 2016

http://www.alteredrealitymag.com/you-always-said/



You Always Said You Could Swim Like a Fish
You, in that black cocktail dress,

red heels stiletto-ing floor. Legs,

sinuous in the ballroom. We embrace,

my hands on the arch of your back.


Outside, salt water sings. Beckons.

Caribbean air mists its magic over us.

Let us have a drink

of that ocean, I said.


My eyes follow the curve of your hips

all the way down below the waves

of silk frilling your dress, your legs

twisting into one sensuous form.


Sequins on your tight gown glitter

as pearly scales, your long brown tresses

scent the cool breeze with hyacinth.

The ocean whispers.


You, the siren of my dreams

I wrap myself around, let us sink

into the inky depths with just one flick

of our hearts.


Let us dissolve in a swirl of sea

foam tinted with rose-red shimmers

stolen from the moon. Let us disappear

with one last breath of air.


White Lightning, On the Veranda Literary Journal, Issue 1.10, Nov 2016

https://ontheverandaliteraryjournal.wordpress.com/issues/issue-1-10/



White Lightning

 

Bardstown, Kentucky


September 2015

Jim Beam, that bourbon whiskey, still


in a warehouse when lightning struck.
Fire-gutted walls gave way to deluge
of 800,000 gallons of liquor, burning
all the way down the throat of the
mountainside to a retention pond.
This lake of fire—swill and swirl—
caught the thunder of a devil-mean
tornado. It sucked up the fire liquid
into its own mouth.

Hundreds of drunken fish stared.


____________________________


Based on a true event, a Firenado:
https://youtu.be/LKTNMbEoOKE

Butterfly Wings, Peacock Journal, Dec 2016

http://peacockjournal.com/john-c-mannone-four-poems/



Butterfly Wings
The way clouds stencil the Appalachian skies

Like wisps of angels


The blazing sun disrobing its alate splendor

In lavender and gold, quenched in a mountain lake


The hourglass wings—remnant of a dying star

Whose white dwarf heart embers the dark


That swirling in my center when the day-glow of spun light

Sifts through your hair when you drift to me within a kiss’ reach


Our souls lofted beyond the crystal light, our wings folded

Into each other in metamorphosis


Our spirits returning on wings resting on oyumel firs,

Prayers on our lips


Showers of cherry blossoms perfuming air

Before lifting into the warm wind


And scattering all over the world, touching

Everyone, as if grace fluttering from the hand of God




Other poems (22 of 29) in the Short Poem Category: Contents Only
Zombies of the Sea, 2016 Halloween Podcast, SFPA, Oct 2016

http://www.sfpoetry.com/halloween.html


There’s a Howling Among the Stars, Eye To The Telescope, Issue 19, Jan 2016

http://eyetothetelescope.com/archives/019issue.html


Pharaoh's Eye, Altered Reality Magazine, Aug 2016

http://www.alteredrealitymag.com/pharaohs-eye/


Phantom of the Trains, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Dec 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/12/phantom-of-trains-by-john-c-mannone.html


Blank Pages, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Dec 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/12/blank-pages-by-john-c-mannone-frequent.html


Sir Hew Paints Crickets, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Aug 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/08/poem-of-day-sir-hew-paints-crickets-by.html


The Rocket Ship in the Attic, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Mar 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/03/poem-of-day-rocket-ship-in-attic-by.html


An Mhaighdean Mhara, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Mar 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/03/poem-of-day-mhaighdean-mhara-by-john-c.html


Birds on a Wire, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Feb 2016

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2016/02/poet-of-day-birds-on-wire-by-john-c.html


When the Comet Dust Settles, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016

Perhaps There Will Be Roses, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016

Pebble In Robot Stars, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016

The Planets, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016

https://tspj3luminari.wordpress.com/2016/04/02/90/
I Am Light, Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words, Vol 4, Ch 2, p 54 Dec 2016

http://visualverse.org/submissions/i-am-light/


Eye of the Stallion, Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words, Vol 3, Ch 11, p 65, Sep 2016

http://visualverse.org/submissions/eye-of-the-stallion/


Face Recognition, Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words, Vol 3, Ch 5, p 109, Mar 2016

http://visualverse.org/submissions/face-recognition/


On the Psychology of Quantum Mechanics, Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words, Vol 3, Ch 4, p 38, Feb 2016

http://visualverse.org/submissions/psychology-quantum-mechanics/


Small Boy on the Dock, Visual Verse: An Anthology of Art and Words, Vol 3, Ch 3, p 83, Jan 2016

http://visualverse.org/submissions/small-boy-dock/


The Free Ride, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016

I see darkness, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016

Texas Heat, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016

The Relative Size of Things, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016

https://www.amazon.com/Last-Darn-Rites-Whitesboro-Writers-ebook/dp/B01N0FAUDS/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8
Long Poem Category: Contents
Adam’s Rendezvous with Dante, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016 [63 lines]

https://www.amazon.com/Last-Darn-Rites-Whitesboro-Writers-ebook/dp/B01N0FAUDS/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8


The Scattering of Stars, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016 [55 lines]

https://tspj3luminari.wordpress.com/2016/04/02/90/


Long Poem Category: Poems

Adam’s Rendezvous with Dante, Last Darn Rites Anthology (Whitesboro Writers, eBook), Dec 2016

https://www.amazon.com/Last-Darn-Rites-Whitesboro-Writers-ebook/dp/B01N0FAUDS/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_product_top?ie=UTF8

Adam’s Rendezvous with Dante
When I was eight hundred years old

I dreamed a dream and saw visions.

I tagged along with a fellow named

Dante and his poet guide. I listened


to him and Virgil rant about a place

they called Inferno, but it looked more

like a junkyard dump. I had to run

from a three-headed dog in the third


part of hell and slip into the back

of the boat crossing the river Styx

to the nether parts. And then again

I ran, this time from the Minotaur


guarding the seventh gate, wherein

there flowed the Phlegethon—a river

of boiling blood. I heard splashes,

saw pitchforks plunged into bobbing


sinners who dared to poke their heads

above the hot and roiling waves.

Their heads would pop like bubbles,

collapse into the turbulence, the violence


against humanity gushing there.

I wimpered, Where is my son?



The one who killed my Abel?

How deep has he sunk?
Dante said to me, Murderers

of lords and kings and kin,

have been condemned

to the frozen stench below.
When I reached the icy wasteland

—last of nine godforsaken hells—

I found no Cain. There was no fire

except from the burning cold.


I peered into the abyss, for a moment

only saw the leathery warp of wings,

heard the whoosh of frigid wind, and

the anguish, the weeping & gnashing


of teeth, and I saw the three faces

of Lucifer masticating the treacherous,

the traitors—gore of Judas mixing

with the devil’s tears. But I rubbed


my eyes and saw no vile beast

wearing red-handled underwear

nor wielding a three-pronged pitchfork.

Instead, I saw an empty place


lit only by a dim glow from the

baby-faced man with soft blue eyes

wearing a garment full of gems.

He only feathered his angel wings.


Out of the darkness, its voice,

Adam! Adam! Why dost thou vilify me?

I simply offered you knowledge

of the gods. And I said, Sure you did,
just as you seduced my wife with gold

& silver fruit—no savor, only bitterness

of truth, the acid taste of evil.

And I… I could only see its glitter.
But it was you who killed my two sons.

The devil looked up at me

from the bottom of the pit, a blaze

in his eyes showed his countenance.


I gaped at the paltry sight and said,

Is this the man who plagued the world?
It merely leered.
The Scattering of Stars, The Syzygy Poetry Journal, April 2016

https://tspj3luminari.wordpress.com/2016/04/02/90/



The Scattering of Stars
When I was young

I’d shoot marbles



Now I dream

Of shooting stars

I held a clear glass jar of marbles up


to the light in astronomy lab.

Challenged my students to count them

without twisting the lid and spilling them
on the floor or on the black velvet cloth

that I used to wipe the cat’s eyes,

the solids, steelee’s, and boulders with.
Each one, a speckled glitter-glass,

with its own universe of stars.

Did you ever try to guess how many
gumballs could be crammed

inside a foot-high fish bowl

at a Ben Franklin five and dime store?
As a boy, I’d try to count the candy,

fingering each one of those gumballs

from the counter as if to shoot them.
Those same fingers would grip

a bright blue pouch of marbles,

scorch a circle on the hard winter ground
with a smoldering stick of hickory

I pulled from a burning pile of wood—

flames bursting the cold edge of air.
We stood around the circle, each of us

tossing four marbles into a sack,

shook them well and emptied them
inside the dirt ring. We drew

lots. I shot first. Flaming

red hair crowning my focused eyes.
I knelt. My right arm spring-loaded

to the elbow, and worked a marble

from the palm of my hand
up the fist-barrel to the thumb latch

under my forefinger, to the nook

of my boney catapult.
I flicked my broad thumbnail

and jettisoned a clear red marble.

It sped along the universe of dirt,
Sun’s glint now caught in the manifold

of its glass fins. It rolled

like a supergiant full of glass layers.
It sparkled before the collision

and the scattering of stars.

Then splintered into shards.
A black star remained in the center

of the ring, its onyx glass not flung

as the other ones were one-by-one.
Who is counting the shooting stars?

God always shows his hand.

Who would have thought
there’d be so much empty space

weaved in between those marble stars?




Directory: 2017
2017 -> 2017 afoCo Landmark Scholarship Program
2017 -> Florida Supplement to the 2015 ibc chapters 1-35 icc edit version note 1
2017 -> Florida Supplement to the 2015 ibc chapters 1-35 icc edit version note 1
2017 -> 2017 global korea scholarship korean Government Scholarship Program Application Guidelines for Undergraduate Degrees
2017 -> Department of natural resources
2017 -> Kansas 4-h shooting Sports Committee Application
2017 -> Astronomy (C) Teams will demonstrate an understanding of stellar evolution and Type Ia supernova. Bottle Rocket (B)
2017 -> Alabama Association of Educational Opportunity Program Personnel College Scholarship Competition
2017 -> Alabama Association of Educational Opportunity Program Personnel Survivor Scholarship Competition
2017 -> Recitals 2 Article 1 General Provisions 4 a 1 Purpose 4 b 2 Applicable Law and Regulation 4

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