Tag Archives: poems

“This Windy Morning,” by Eric Robert Nolan

“This Windy Morning, by Eric Robert Nolan

The gales cry,
their sounds rise,
so strangely like
the wailing of children.
The gales
have ripped a rift in purgatory.

Along the low hill’s haze
and indistinct palette of grays,
the thinning slate shapes
are either columns of rain,
or a quorum of waifish wraiths.

Condemned but inculpable
are those little figures —
long ago natives maybe — in an ironic,
insufficient sacrament:
this obscuring rain’s
parody of baptism.

If that faultless chorus
should never see heaven,
they will ever be wind without end
their lamentations ever
shrill within rare
arriving spring downpours.
Always will the squall
imprison their calls.

You and I should refrain
any temptation to breach
these palisades of rain —
lest we be greeted by each
iron-colored countenance:
the sorrowing slim nickel
of an infant’s visage,
little boys’ graying faces,
the silvering eyes of the girls.

© 2017 Eric Robert Nolan

[Note: I began writing this yesterday morning, which was, at a sensory level, just like the fictional morning described.  Southwest Virginia indeed has some unique weather, affected, as I’m told, by its sprawling mountain ranges.  (They circle the Roanoke metro area.)

The rain yesterday was abrupt and shrieking.  I posted on social media that I’d experienced “that eerie moment when the wind sounds strangely like the wailing of children.”  So hence the poem that I finished (?) tonight.  I think a lot of my friends will find it funny; they certainly were laughing at my poet’s melodrama yesterday.  One said it was a nice turn of phrase, too — and that it could be the start of a story.

I’ve never written what I’ve considered a “horror poem” before.  (“The Writer” in 2013 was never intended as such, anyway.)  But the genre is alive and well, at least in the small presses.  Horror poetry is frequently requested in the calls for submissions you can find on Facebook’s various “Open Calls” pages, anyway.  (And if you’re an indie writer, those pages are great to peruse anyway.)

I hope you enjoyed the piece.]

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Photo credit: By Huhu Uet (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

Eric Robert Nolan featured at Haikuniverse

Hey, I just found out that the nice folks over at Haikuniverse published a haiku that I submitted a while back:

http://www.haikuniverse.com/haiku-by-eric-robert-nolan-2/

Thanks, Haikuniverse!

 

Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine features “Our Room In Brooklyn”

The September 2016 Issue of Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine was just released, with pieces both by me and by a couple of good friends of mine.  You can find my poem, “Our Room In Brooklyn,” on page 14.  Be sure also to check out “Bacchus and Cheap Tobacco,” by Dennis Villelmi, as well as “Antidote,” by Scott Thomas Outlar.

You can purchase the September Issue in right here, or you can simply download a free electronic copy in PDF format here.

Enjoy.

 

Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine Issue 18 - September 2016

Publication Notice: Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine to feature “Our Room In Brooklyn”

I’m honored once again to share that another poem of mine will be published by Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine.  The upcoming September 2016 issue will include “Our Room In Brooklyn.”  This is a piece that I authored many years ago; it was first featured by Dagda Publishing in 2013.

Thanks to Editor Samantha Rose for allowing me to be a part of of the terrific creative community over at Peeking Cat!

 

 

“An Ode for Fellow Replicants,” by Eric Robert Nolan

(Dedicated to Philip K. Dick)

What if the Internet is an android’s dream,
and we are the electric sheep?

Dick would know at once
our artificial people:
every boy a Roy,
every girl a pleasure model,
trying to pass as real,
inwardly concerned with their design —
“Morphology. Longevity. Incept dates.”

On Facebook,
“More Nolan than Nolan”
is my motto.

If I, in my genuine moments,
could greet my jpeg face
hiding in his electronic words,

he’d go offworld or die.
After all,
“It’s not an easy thing to meet your maker.”

[Author’s note — the film quoted and paraphrased above is Ridley Scott’s “Blade Runner” (1982), to which this poem is an homage.  “Blade Runner” is itself an adaptation of Dick’s 1968 novel, “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”]

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2016

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Photo credit: By olga.palma – facebook enganchaUploaded by JohnnyMrNinja, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16525385

Publication Notice: Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine to feature “Seagull”

I am honored once again to say that one of my poems will be featured by Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine — “Seagull” will appear in the upcoming July 2016 issue.

As always, I am grateful to Editor Samantha Rose for allowing me to be a part of Peeking Cat’s creative community!

 

“Octopus, Octopi,” by Eric Robert Nolan

“Octopus, Octopi,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Octopus, octopi
Your faux grammar is a lie.
Forget that shit you heard;
“Octopi” is not a word.
Here is what the truth is:
The plural’s “octopuses!”

(c) 2016 Eric Robert Nolan

This is dedicated to my pal, Carrie.  She detests pulpo as a dish, but I know she appreciates decent grammar.

 

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“she,” by Eric Robert Nolan

“she,” by Eric Robert Nolan

in iridescent lavender
she
sidles up to me in dreams of burning purple.
her
slimming violet shoulders wilt like lilacs in her sighs.
her
gazing eyes are amethyst in torment.
she
whispers from her pomegranate lips that I am fiction.

 File:Landschaft in Oberösterreich(2).JPG
Photo credit: By Werner100359 (Own work) [CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Publication notice: Dead Snakes features “Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks”

I’m honored to report here today that another of my poems was featured by Dead Snakes.

Click here to read “Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks.”

Once again, thank you to Editor Stephen Jarrell Williams!

“Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks,” by Eric Robert Nolan

“Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks”
by Eric Robert Nolan

               [For Robert and Kathleen Nolan]

Oh, to extinguish the seas,
and make the waves recede.
The nights between you both and me
are oceans that separate.

To meet at a nadir
between continents,
to traverse
dryness in endless leagues,
to descend
the fathoms now made shining canyons,
where all the former depths are rendered
newly whitening plains,
I would find you
smiling among inert shipwrecks.

All their rusting hulls would be
as iron strange oases,
now in an ironic desert —
the seabed under midday.
A warm new noon alights their wakes.
Intermittent citadels
of masts again in sun
would brightly tower over
their resurrected figureheads;
their mermaids’ opaque eyes would find
we three gladdened
among the once benighted bows.

There’d be an incongruity
between crustaceans now
slowed almost to stillness
in the blanching sun, while we …
we rushed to an embrace.
Our shouts would break
the silence of epochs.

Somewhere on a shore, this night,
beached upon an altar
of lunar-like nocturnal sands,

finally, face to face,
dessicated starfish
stare at their namesakes in heaven.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2016