April 14-20: Nikki Carr and Laura W. Grills

Nikki Carr and Laura W. Grills

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Nikki Carr
poetnikki@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Nikki Carr excelled in high school and won a full undergraduate scholarship. Ms. Carr then went on to win a graduate fellowship where she was exposed to poetry which ultimately helped her shape her writing. Ms. Carr is very accomplished and she was most recently named the Merit Award recipient of the 2013 Lilian Osborn Memorial Award for poetry. Nikki is from New York, New York and her work shows true passion for nature, mankind and everyday experiences.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Nikki Carr and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Dreams Past The Length Of Her Two Leather Shoes

Vintage pitch fork photographs,
crying for relief as she baled hay,
always conjured up pale childhood memories.

The grange, the fetus of her
mother’s womb carried contrived comfort
to the drudgery and hardships of farm life.

Their farm gave her the gift of
umbra lungs, filled with the scent of dung,
and ruby gore freely flowing from her hands.

Her sole refuge was grade school,
as the land was a snake, which swallowed
her whole, then spat her out; only to tend it.

Alone, she walked home in silence,
touching the earth’s crust beneath her feet
with dreams past the length of her two leather shoes.

She dreamt of cures for lost minds
and solace where she could just be her,
and settle on dreams beyond the valley floor.

She hopes to tend a tract of land
that is her own and bring her comfort
with dreams past the length of her two leather shoes.


Laura W. Grills
lgrills@aol.com

Bio (auto)

A former student of Marc Olmstead, Laura W. Grills resides in Rochester Hills, Michigan. A writer with a love of bird language and story, she lives in an ordinary house in an ordinary town, and for the most part has lived an ordinary life. She came to writing later in life in the space where death no longer frightens or hides from view, and childish dreams are recaptured. Writing poetry was one of those dreams for her. If there is a place to see resonance in the ordinary drama of bird life, this is it. In this space bedtime stories come to life, and old women forget what they knew and take up rattles to shake or drum by the light of the moon. Her work has appeared in Napalm Health Spa. Prior to that she won a poetry contest in middle school. If memory serves, it was sponsored by the Daughters of the American Revolution.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Laura W. Grills and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Bullfrog Saw It All,
A retelling of the fairytale The Wren

We all remember those days
Old croaks balloon infiltration
My and my green
Suit all those
Toad floats poolside watching banana cocktail
Mix it serve it
Pour some hippity-hop into it give it that umbrella pearl
That show me some-
Thing nobody scene before that bird language
Everybody know it long time
Before we forgot
Stupid world
Change up swirl people evolution and all that
Dirt nobody knows nothing
No more

He screeched the loudest that
Jay ray blue Jedi master swoop out of
That tree and give you shit his idea all that nonsense
Only one king for all them
Flyers stupid idea
Told them so nobody listen don’t need opining
from this old frog thick back legs
Shrivel under my skin think they
Know everything those screech my ass back into
The pool hold my head under with that
Nagging for trying to
Talk some sense
Into you

Ok you fools go ahead and pick that
Lemming drape those shoulders with a velvet
So fine look at me I can fly
Fast and high
Sashay crown on his fool head fall off
Get lost all of you acting
Surprised follow that new king
Crash over
The side so surprised that pit
Oh no I took my
Wings off why did I do it ?
That misery prove something
To you while I sit
In this nice muck shake chuckle and
Sing that bullfrog song don’t mind a good show
Anyway

They all took off like a bandit that
Faraway black tornado up
Close bojangle of turkey feather and pillow
Fluff bumping into and
Rising up which one could soar the
Highest (I want you to know
It was quiet down below and that didn’t
Happen too often) we all know
Which way it go only a
Bird brain wouldn’t know those strong wing
Muscles and keen eye knew how
To fly so high that eagle
Baby outmatched them all peeling
Off layers of the atmosphere
Like a champ they all fell away
Landed to
Cry and lick their pride
He would have been
Crowned that day
If it wasn’t
For that cheater that little dude
That wren-itude
Small enough to hide
Under eagle feathers wait
Until the eagle had gone higher than anyone else could fly
And then little dude sprang up and flew even higher until he could
See God on that throne
Came down and declared himself the
Winner I am the king-
Dumb jackass
That silly
Guy what was he thinking

Can you imagine a whole flock
Of birds every one following
That little dude ? got
So cocky they chased him into a hole
Changed they mind about that king trip and so
They called the whole
Thing off sat in those trees and chattered
About it sounded like a buzz saw wacked that
Crack they not so smooth now
This old bullfrog know
How to dance sideways and
Under fall so many ways to be so filly fine and
Girls everywhere and I love muck water and flies how could
It compare would have given that
Eagle every inch of air I saved
Up in my lungs if he would have taken
Me instead lift me let me hop up see what that little dude
Saw so happy now saw God up there no reason
To do anything else
Ever
Doesn’t even mind being
Chased into holes stupid
Bird brain just sing his divine light
Rectitude

Man this sucks not being able to fly croak about
It if I want to who asked you
Go back to
Your cartoons standing in line stupid
People nobody asked you rest of us knew how
To talk too but you
Wouldn’t listen krump this grimm lark
If I want to
rivet rivet rib it ah shit forgot to tell them about
the… corethatoak cra-tha-atticlight
cro-aak nomind maybe next
time
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