Ten Poems by Jaime Stanford | Zombie Logic Review

Ten Poems by Jaime Stanford | Zombie Logic Review

Jaime Stanford is a poet, poetry educator, and resident of Stratford-upon-Avon, UK. Writing poetry since 2019, Jaime has spent the past five years teaching others a variety of poetry styles. With a passion for poetry, the English language, and creative expression, Jaime inspires writers to explore creativity through verse.

Poet Jaime Stanford 

Haiku

Muffled minds wonder
sudoric bodies shudder
caressing slumber.

A velvety dusk
hangs low; muffled oranges
the tide grows nearer.

Vividness
colour cascade
beautiful mind pervades.

Heart
tightly bound
silenced no sound.

Haiku Chain Write

Your
deep love
held the key

You
unlocked me
my heart breathed

Together
our souls
hand in hand.

Monoku

I am your darkest gift filled with sin and utter bliss

wildflowers in pink she cherishes the cool wind

pearl tinted moon moulded like the bowl of a spoon splashed milk drops at dusk

Tiptoeing through silk petals blossom scented feet

Haynaku

Crestfallen
Soul battered
Upon its knees.

Six Tercets, One Monostich, Two Duostich By Alan Summers

Alan Summers: Chippenham, England UK, 6’3” dextromanual, carmina scribere cupiens, founder Pan Haiku Review, founder Call of the Page.

Six tercets, one monostich, two duostich:

green moon
rising wide-eyed
the early dog roses

drifting woodsmoke
the double-decker bus
bright as a movie

when and where
are the shared colours
poor-land daisies

wearing shorts
a smile on each knee
to the supermarket

autumn deepens
with a fleeting [blank space]
a day worn out

god rays for a cat
the rain clouds shift
mending things

so much for
the red sled
all snowbound
all forgotten
in light

after William Carlos Williams

worrdied = worredied = worridied = words died mama

after The Guild of Emotional Artisans

we never take them alive
each dream as snow

golden hour sketching
the charcoal late-emerging bumblebees

Two Short Poems By Marc Carver

Marc Carver, a British poet, was recently an internationally featured

poet at the Austin International Poetry Festival. He has published 

four books of poetry and has had some seventy or so poems published

and posted at various sites. All of his books are available on 

Amazon.com. He is now writing a book of fiction and hopes to publish

it very shortly. He performs mainly in London and will continue to 

write poetry as long as people enjoy his work.

MRS WOO

We went to the fish and chip shop

me 

and her

I ordered two fish and chips

Mrs Woo

asked if we wanted salt and vinegar

I said vinegar for me

and she said 

only salt for her

I told Mrs Woo

we could not be more different

She just looked at me

confused

the way a lot of people do

THE LAUGHING MAN

I see a man

bent slightly forward 

hands in face 

as if he is putting on a mask

He sobs 

the only way 

a man who wears boots and cream shorts can

screams with misery

then he takes his hands from his face

he starts to laugh

and his face changes

then he looks at me

and laughs even louder

Paul Brookes: Four Surrealist Poems by the British Poet and Wombwell Rainbow Editor

Paul Brookes has been published in many magazines in the south west of England. He performed as a member of the poetry in performance group “Rats for Love” and his work was included in their 1990 publication Rats for Love: The Book.

Poet Paul Brookes

His first chapbook was The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley (Dearne Community Arts, 1993).

His website is thewombwellrainbow.wordpress.com


Clay Pipes For Shoes

His two clay pipes fitted her small, delicate feet perfectly. 
Tobacco smoke swirled around her thighs 
as she contemplated the pencil describing 
his face held by the hand so realistically emerging 
from the front of the postcard addressed 
to his German aunt in Andalusia.



Walks Around In Rabbit Holes

alive to the eyes of foxes
with mouths full of bird feathers

and stuffing pillows with duck feathers 
in hope their mobile will ring with a text

from the vet who needs to vaccinate
 against Mad Cow's and haunted chicken

coops as he hears door slams 
and barbecue voices, 
badgers defended by cows.



A Cup Of Clear Water

is a blue sky to your throat
as you sup all I have left.

I watch your soil darken.
A cloud moves through it.

Watch that bitten bottom lip
sob of yours take the easy route
an anvil 
of cumulonimbus spits

at earth a flatiron spray 
of steam to remove my creases.

Your waters curl through ground 
that needs more surge to move it.

A pearl of sweat suspends the eye 
wavers on one of your risen follicles.

Your river dammed by my mouth.
Only the troposphere 

can hear your heart.



A Duvet Is

trout waiting to be tickled.
Our Duffle coats are horses 
shudder under rain.

Your roads are filigrees of satin
on a hardwood occasional table.

Your songs daily papers bought
for the pictures.

My reverence is taking my shoe
and socks off in company.

Your ears lamps that sputter into life.

Running water is a foreign language.

Jesus is a blue recycling bin
33 daubed in white on its sides
out in undeveloped wasteland.

Happiness is an uncompleted transaction.