March 9-15, 2015: Jim Bennett and Frank Watson

Jim Bennett and Frank Watson

Send us your poetry for POET OF THE WEEK consideration. Click here for submission guidelines.


Jim Bennett
jimbennett@poetrykit.org

Bio (auto)

Jim Bennett, has written 74 books and numerous chapbooks and pamphlets in a 49 year career as a poet. Jim lives near Liverpool in the UK and tours giving readings of his work throughout the year. He is widely published and has won competitions and awards for poetry and performance. He runs www.poetrykit.org one of the world’s most successful internet sites for poets.

The following work is Copyright © 2015, and owned by Jim Bennett and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

the horse

.you told me about the horse
how its body floated
under the bridge

you could see its bloated
belly like a balloon
as it was swept out to sea

eyes wide...full of corruption
flesh ripped and torn to rags
and fish feed

leaving a trail of blood
and filth..stretching behind
like a comet

gas released..the carcass sink
was never recovered
it was left to join a growing reef

of tangled metal....bicycles
shopping trolleys....dragged there
by the last big storm

eventually only its white bones
will remember
the touch of sunlight



Frank Watson
FrankWatsonPoetry@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Frank Watson was born in Venice, California and now lives in New York City. He enjoys literature, art, calligraphy, history, jazz, international culture, and travel. Publications include The Dollhouse Mirror, Seas to Mulberries, The dVerse Anthology (editor), One Hundred Leaves (translator and editor), Fragments (translator and editor), and Poetry Nook (editor). His work has appeared in various literary journals, anthologies, e-zines, and literary blogs. Frank’s Twitter account is @FollowBlueFlute and his website is www.poetrynook.com.

The following work is Copyright © 2015, and owned by Frank Watson and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

untitled

sitting beneath the wall
I hear the melody of another day
the hills are strangers now
she points another way

 


 

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: