August 28, 2012
John Lambremont. Sr. - Poet

   Well, here we are, waiting for Hurricane Isaac to hit. Unfortunately, my best hurricane poems are under submission.

   I have made some improvements to the blog. First, the settings have been adjusted so that all readers can comment. Also, I have added an e-mail option to allow readers to receive an e-mail each time a new post goes up. The new features are in the upper right corner of the page.

   We attended last week-end the Texas Poetry Calendar 2013 reading at Blue Willow Bookstore in Houston. A good tome was had by all, and we got to meet many fine Texas poets, one of whom has submitted to and had a poem accepted by our review, Big River Poetry Review here in Baton Rouge, La. Please check out our website at bigriverpoetry.com to read some outstanding poems, and don't forget: we need more submissions!

  Here's a poem of mine previously published in Caper Literary Journal, now known as Patasola Review, in New York City, published by Lisa Marie Basile. The protagonist in this poem has troubles that make our current predicament seem small.

PACHUCO Y JUANITO

Pachuco has brought into the cantina

his glorified version of a pellet gun,

a sawn-off muzzle-loading blunderbuss

able to shoot todas tipos las cosas.

He tells the barkeep he will use it

to keep a scavenging gallina out

of his novia's casa de pollo.

Juanito pales and stares at his

huevos, wondering

if el jefe del barrio knows.

Then the sound of a muffled discharge,

Juanito feels the stings of a dozen wasps,

and gasps, small metal pieces lodging

in his limbs. Raul darkens,

drops his few wrinkled bills onto the

vinyl tablecloth, murmurs, "Vamanos,"

and exits hurriedly, but Juanito,

picking a BB from his earlobe,

approaches Pachuco at the brass rail

and puts the projectile on the bar,

mumbling, "Necessita tengar mas cuidado,"

to which el jefe, his eyes narrowing,

replies, "Y tu tambien."

Raul ha desaparecido, the sidewalk empty save

Pachuco's cadre de guerreros. Juanito ambles down

the paseo, being followed, but once he passes

the estacion de policia, he is left alone

to pick shrapnel from his wounds.

His sternum is burning; probing

a cut, he extracts a small medallion

of La Virgen. He turns it over in

wonder, revealing la marca 925,

significa plata.

Juanito crosses over to the pawn shop,

as La Virgen will bring dinero for

tomorrow's dinner. Inside the door,

he considers his situation carefully, 

as it might be mas mejor to buy

with his last few pesetas

a matching silver chain.

Next, given the dark skies outside, I bring you a grim study in childhood gone amok, previously published in The Ampersand Review,

UNBROKEN

Go-Bots do not go

to sleep, they lie

awake in old toy

boxes, amputee

or headless weights just

waiting for the signal sound

to bring them back

around to rape grown

children that laid them

to waste.

Next, to lighten the mood, an acrostic poem, which was published this summer in Suisun Valley Review:

A DALLIANCE 

 

A hungry hummingbird darts and hovers,

Mesmerized by the harlot bloom;

Aromas draw him slowly nearer,

Red petal cup serene and seductive,

Yellow pistils thrusting saucily.

Lust overcomes the excited suitor, his

Loving kiss met with an airy appraisal;

In moments, he sets his course and is gone, to

Share a sweet tale with his brothers. 

Finally, to go from the sublime to the ridiculous, here's the first installment in my series about a diminutive alien despot's misadventures. This series appeared in my first book, "Whiskey, Whimsy, & Rhymes," available on Amazon.com and all the major bookstore websites. I will include successive installments in each new post until the series has run. Warning: do not read these poems with your mouth full.

A Big Feast

The holy Grand Poo-Bah

sat high on his throne

gold rings on his fingers

and a bone in his nose

The Boo-pahs were dining

on ma-poh tofu

regaling His Highness

so alone and aloof

Fried lice so crunchy

and dog legs so sweet

but the Boo-pahs were asking,

“What’s the Mystery Meat?”

Queen Poo-Bah away

from everyone’s eyes

but her fat patties lay

right next to their fries

Grand Poo-Bah would never

admit to the truth

so he gave the excuse

of an aching back tooth

“Oh, well! What the hell,

anything to feed the troops!”

 

That's all for now. Please pray for us; we are facing 24 to 48 hours of "relentless rain, flooding, and high winds." per The Weather Channel.

My best,

John L.