Strider Marcus Jones's Blog: https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/, page 5
December 6, 2024
December 1, 2024
Delighted to have 3 poems Mirror, Mirror; The Patterns and This Now My Thoughts in Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal -Issue 13, published on December 1, 2024. My thanks to Editor Mysti MilweeHere is the link below to view Issue 13: https://sequoyahcherokeeri
Delighted to have 3 poems Mirror, Mirror; The Patterns and This Now My Thoughts in Sequoyah Cherokee River Journal -Issue 13, published on December 1, 2024. My thanks to Editor Mysti MilweeHere is the link below to view Issue 13:
sequoyahcherokeeriverjournal.wordpress.com SEQUOYAH CHEROKEE RIVER JOURNAL Photography by Mysti S. Milwee c2024 ISSUE 13 AUTUMN/WINTER ISSUE – 2024 From the Editor: Mysti S. Milwee Congratulations to all my fellow brothers and sisters that have contributed to Is…
MIRROR, MIRROR
mirror, mirror,
in the hall
age comes to us all,
and looks wither
through the play
of years slipped away,
away
in the lapsed lingo of street
and road,
where tangents meet
and move with innocence
up summits of experience
told,
whose fruits we eat
then weep
when they implode.
these reflections
in this autumn of adventurous directions,
mean more
standing in the door
of ebb and flow
watching people come and go
wearing introspections
of what they know
after listening to a stranger’s small confessions
on midnight radio.
THE PATTERNS
somewhere
in everywhere
everybody
happens
in the patterns,
like flocks
of rocks
gathered to the lobby
of Saturn’s
rings,
graded
and sorted
into ugly and beautiful
useful
things;
all something
out of nothing
but not absolute nothing:
it seems matter
that Mad Hatter
and plectrums of light
make tunes of self similarity settle and fight
repeating this same existence
without remembered resistance.
THIS NOW MY THOUGHTS
this now my thoughts
open at the image of your name
won’t be revealing
the secrets they explain-
do you do the same
on these out walks
remembering the rain
drop fractals on us feeling.
back we go again,
without preachers
or bad teachers,
harvest high with hope
just us and frayed strands
of poetry and bands
on this bridge of notes
our mind spans.
in give we’ve got
the bloom of this plot
in garden to river
shaping start and stop
the melting clock
of body quake then quiver
through the Dreamtime day night
and soul spirit lit by landscape light.
we climb the Orange Rock
to revert back far
but have no Gaelic croft
to live in who we are.
it has changed hands
until the purpose of these lands
shoots dissenting music out of birds
and sucks all truth from ancient words
so existence is
another language.
November 14, 2024
July 11, 2024
Thrilled to have three of my poems published in The Starbeck Orion Issue 3 Page 8 of 25. My thanks to editor Paul Lauren. 2nd July, 2024.
The Starbeck Orion Issue #3 Page 8 of 25 (substack.com)
The Samaritan Machine this field pondis only mydissolvedimagination-thought dropsof summer rainmaking fractal ripplesdrumbeat on skin.a portal sharedwith cawing crowsrevealswho scams and snoops and shootsin contract conversations.this Windsongof Virginia Creeper,ruling Bear and Wolfsbanerustling in black bambootrusts its Samaritan Machinetelling it who to redactin this imposeddystopianequilibriumof dumbed-down massesworshipping Carousel. The Mad Hatter Hiding in Dark Matter in our housei binned the radiofor playing Strauss- left the suited rodeoof casino Faustand shot the gentry shooting grouse. into the wild gardenwithout spun jargonwe went through rusting arch of rose dissentonto the precipice of peacewhere slush borders grip and grease like usurping tectonic platesshapeshifting smaller states.their innocents bombed and dispossessed join our shoaled oppressedof obedient possessed-while The Mad Hatter hiding in Dark Matter-says blame them, instead of Straussin suits playing casino Faust and enslaving gentry shooting grouse.The Mess of Thrown Off Clothesi listento your love beads glistenin the flotsamof my room- we make themfrom samurai sword foldsat forge and loomin the mess of thrown off clothes. so many smoke me kissesat portal doors,and mithril wisheson primitive floors- take us back againthrough heath and fento imitatelost landscape- cycleand circlesky and stoneoutside and home- in love in lesswith your heavenliness,and lonelinessdurable under duress.By Strider Marcus Jones
July 10, 2024
Honoured to have my poem STANDING STONES about my Father published in North of Oxford online in the USA. My thanks to the editors G E REUTTER and DIANE SAHMS.
Standing Stones by Strider Marcus Jones | North of Oxford (wordpress.com)
STANDING STONES BY STRIDER MARCUS JONES
Standing Stones
.
i can still smell his shirt
when he tramped home from work
and slumped down beside us
in his chair,
lips cracked, shaking cotton fibres
from his tusselled hair.
.
he was like that:
never wore a vain hat,
or mask to hide the man he was
and what he was
from himself
or anyone else.
.
he told me my first joke,
showed me how to roll a smoke
in his thick, stained fingers.
oh, how his voice echo lingers
sowing moral ethics
into politics-
.
through the night,
like Lenin, in reason and fight,
making Attlee and Bevan’s lintels
bridge
the standing stones of Marx and Engels
over my youth.
.
rising like monolith’s
of truth,
opposing the dangers
of privileged
abyss,
i watched, his turned wisdom change us
into opposite strangers.
.
Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher ofLothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of The Poetry Society, and nominated for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, his five published books of poetry Poetry by Strider Marcus Jones reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms
Delighted to have my poem IN GAZA published in Our Poetry Archive Anthology – Farewell to War, Congratulations to all contributors. Honoured to be included with you in this stand out anthology superbly edited by
Farewell To War – No More War No More Death (wordpress.com)
STRIDER MARCUS JONES – Farewell To War (wordpress.com)
In Gaza
its time to go
inside this show
of profits
and prophets-
to the motives and motifs
of tenets and beliefs,
that make a man, blow a child to bits-
in Gaza, where blood blurs bible scripts.
the gun slung
gung-ho,
and unsung
hero-
Goliath shelling David’s ghetto into crypts,
but only Al-Jazeera shows the genocidal clips.
the currency of crime
infests divinity and time,
corrupting ideologies that blow-
through the politics, like a great and secret show.
STRIDER MARCUS JONES – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms. His poetry has been published in numerous publications including: Dreich Magazine; The Racket Journal; Trouvaille Review; dyst Literary Journal; Impspired Magazine; Our Poetry Archive; Melbourne Culture Corner; Literary Yard Journal; The Honest Ulsterman; Poppy Road Review; The Galway Review; Cajun Mutt Press; Rusty Truck Magazine; Rye Whiskey Review; Deep Water Literary Journal; The Huffington Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine; A New Ulster; The Lampeter Review; Panoplyzine Poetry Magazine and Dissident Voice.
Thrilled to have my poem HENGE published in The Winged Moon Magazine’s Second Print Anthology – Ancient. Congratulations to all contributors and EIC Jai Michelle Louissen for publishing this superb Anthology.
thewingedmoon | Twitter, Instagram | Linktree
HENGE
in these, so close, contented fields
of thoughts and flesh caressed
by limbs and lute phonetic phrases
in this dark loop of days,
i want what more reveals-
the undercoat of faith undressed
to nature without cages
exposing pagan aspects and its ways,
to behold what light conceals
in blue and grey stone thoughts that smiles suppress,
through the henge of seasons phases
in the centre of your circle as it plays.
July 8, 2024
Delighted to have 15 of my Haiku published in Issue 22 of Die Leere Mitte Journal from Berlin, Germany. My thanks to the editors.
Die Leere Mitte – Issue 22 – WEISSES WERK (wordpress.com)
HAIKU
field mouse climbs wheat stem
eats modified genome seeds
cereal killer
driving desert road
algebra taking us to stars
moon resting on dune
turning wheel of time
paddle steamboat roaming down
the Mississippi
autumn leaves swirl
into derelict buildings
spirals of decay
apple blossom scent
in magical flute music
opens closed doors
midnight lake moonlight
ripples on the water’s skin
selkie’s seeking love
black beetle crawling
on fresh cut grass
i stop my footsteps
abducted onto
interplanetary craft
more missing persons
holding rosary beads
in touch with God
forming stars and planets
lightning blasting trees
bombed bodies and buildings
no change in the world
to defeat dragon
mouse tunnels into his ear
capturing his mind
white deer in forest
hears the hunter taking aim
death gun implodes
rabbit out on road
paralysed by headlights
fast car hits a tree
her longing served
pale harvest moon
drifts the other way
misfit mist and moon
her porcelain complexion
imitating snow
June 17, 2024
Really chuffed to have my two poems Hot Rod and Our Talk published in The Gorko Gazette. My thanks to the editors.
The Gorko Weekly Preview – 17 June 2024 – lorienmarcusjones@gmail.com – Gmail (google.com)
New content every morning! (thegorkogazette.com)
‘HOT ROD’ AND ONE MORE BY STRIDER MARCUS JONES
HOT RODfast and furious
archangel in paint and chrome
brings me home-
purring megaphonious,
combusting with sav and sap
that i glimpse
peeking into warm grill chintz-
then she lifts her corset bonnet
and lets me touch her glinting bones
secreting home spun
pheromones
attracting, like moon and sun-
mysterious
and mnemonic
old senses,
fallow and fenced
soon become drenched
quiller and squirter
in that linguistic converter-
glow mapping,
overlapping,
slowly blown
in the metronome.
the soft wind, stroking your smiling face,
fingers your fine combed hair, in out of place-
and i know
when you go
nothing can make this mood,
or give its famine food.
our talk, branching through woods and sky
like young leaves, suddenly knowing why-
they need the sun again
to be, and to remain-
more than a copied canopy
to reach the plain out to me.
i lounge, in your living words libation,
with uncommon nouns, uncovered in creation,
and wait for wantings i can be-
where complex minds dwell in that simplicity,
where feelings go to touch
and come to mean so much.
Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms.
His poetry has been published in numerous publications including: Dreich Magazine; The Racket Journal; Trouvaille Review; dyst Literary Journal; Impspired Magazine; Melbourne Culture Corner; Literary Yard Journal; The Honest Ulsterman; Poppy Road Review; The Galway Review; Cajun Mutt Press; Rusty Truck Magazine; Rye Whiskey Review; Deep Water Literary Journal; The Huffington Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine; A New Ulster; The Lampeter Review; Panoplyzine Poetry Magazine and Dissident Voice.
Thrilled to have my poem This Now My Thoughts published by editor Barbara Leonhard at Masticadores USA Poetry
Posted by MEELOSMOMon17 JUNE, 2024
Photo by Hilary Halliwell on Pexels.comthis now my thoughtsopen at the image of your name
won't be revealing
the secrets they explain-
do you do the same
on these out walks
remembering the rain
drop fractals on us feeling.
back we go again,
without preachers
or bad teachers,
harvest high with hope
just us and frayed strands
of poetry and bands
on this bridge of notes
our mind spans.
in give we've got
the bloom of this plot
in garden to river
shaping start and stop
the melting clock
of body quake then quiver
through the Dreamtime day night
and soul spirit lit by landscape light.
we climb the Orange Rock
to revert back far
but have no Gaelic croft
to live in who we are.
it has changed hands
until the purpose of these lands
shoots dissenting music out of birds
and sucks all truth from ancient words
so existence is
another language.
Copyright © 2024 Strider Marcus Jones
All Rights Reserved
Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms.
His poetry has been published in over 200 publications worldwide including: Dreich Magazine; dyst Literary Journal; Impspired Magazine; Melbourne Culture Corner; Literary Yard Journal; The Galway Review; Cajun Mutt Press; Rye Whiskey Review; The Huffington Post USA; The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine; and Dissident Voice.
https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/
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