Arts Featured The Poem

The Poem: A Sonnet

It was years ago that I first read the engaging writings of Miranda Beeson.  Time has not diminished my interest, nor has her work gotten stale. Miranda continues to find fresh greens in her poetic salads of life. — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands XIV by Miranda Beeson The beds were terrible & I was coldmy friend Jean sighs in pentameter soI just have to write it down. Jean’s 90—a salty
Pumpkin mailbox
The Poem

The Poem: Thanks for Nothing

Bill’s piece reminds me so much of freedom and is a perfect example of less being more. The absence of clutter is refreshing. He uses the word “purity” with no additional explanation necessary except for rain water. The reader imagines rain water like a refreshing mountain stream (at least this reader does). — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands Thanks for Nothing by Bill Batcher for the silence of a snowy
New Suffolk Beach
The Poem

The Poem: Hitting the Beach

This piece has bounce and is of the moment. As the summer winds down, people realize that they put things off until it’s too late!   — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands by Neil Young I’m heading to the beach, Right after this cold drink.  It's been a while I’ve been there,  Perhaps, a year, I think!  I’m heading to the beach,  But first, my daily pills.  Then I have to
Column The Poem

The Poem: Mercury

By Billy Hands All my little pretties have cascaded up from earthat a point where coral melts into the Keys,velvet daggers drawn on a lion’s crestcatch the mangrove mystic Mercury. Stop light white, knives a channel of red.Weave through a tattered town’s bridge repair.Yellowed wax maps on seven miles of stilts,where galleons gold treasures disappeared. Magician’s fingers sift through grains of sandas sun sinks into Cuban skies.Top hats filled with
The Poem

The Poem: Poem From the Hot Mother

Tom Stock is a true Long Island poet and I believe he would love to simply live in the Pine Barrens and when a change was needed he would be at the beach on Fire Island. His chapbook "Hidden Agenda: A Poetry Journey," an offering from 2012, reveals his love of nature. Sit tight while he walks you through green moss at mounds of red wintergreen berries. ­— Beacon Poetry
The Poem

The Poem: Cutchogue, April 1, 41.0107° N, 72.4851° W

“Thought provoking and cunning, Miranda Beeson has more than a knack to lead the reader through a well thought out event. Accomplished in her art, she invites us to sit on the passenger side of her pen and steer us down her lane of view.” — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands Cutchogue, April 1, 41.0107° N, 72.4851° W by Miranda Beeson The fish hawk is back, surveying his nest from
The Poem

The Poem: “I Am Intoxicated with the Beauty” by Georgeann Packard

Even if you don’t have a friend or relative who has experienced war, this poem would make even the civilian understand what that experience does to a person, and how nature’s beauty connects us all. — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands by Georgeann Packard I am intoxicated with the beauty of the carpet of petals beneath the fruit trees it’s as if fragments of heaven have floated down to earth
The Poem

The Poem: In Memory of Jim Melrose

David Berson is a true salt of the earth. He continues to be the best scholar depicting stories by the best teachers any writer could have, true life people. — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands In Memory of Jim Melrose by David Berson Remember the man: Leather aproned, Heavily gloved, helmeted, Bathed in a shower of sparks, Guiding the welder’s rod. Joining steel, bronze, aluminum Evenly With a bead as
The Poem

The Poem: Three Bits & Pieces

by Billy Hands There is no reason to accept what I’m about to say, but everything was fine until it wasn’t. Excuse number two was a close second behind the sea-stacks and the rocky beaches. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way I can bury the last six months in the sand. Timelessness is fueled by hope and the fear of death. I hide shifting in mood, then
The Poem

The Poem: The Thief

[caption id="attachment_50899" align="alignnone" width="600"] Thieves[/caption] We all talk about not getting sucked in to social media, desperate youtube wives of webmd, but we all do it!  The daily vampires of time are sucking our lives away and for the most part we allow it. — Beacon Poetry Editor Billy Hands The Thief by Martin H. Levinson He sits silent in my living room daring me to press his buttons so
Hampton Bays, February, 2017
The Poem

The Poems: New Colossus & A Mother’s Plea/Parkland

[caption id="attachment_42466" align="alignnone" width="600"] Hampton Bays, February, 2017[/caption] “I believe that the people right now are hurting and hunting for something. The writers are drawing on the past and what made this country what our forefathers had envisioned. Something got lost somewhere and we are all confused. We all hurt right now, even if we’re not sure exactly why. Putting our finger on the pulse is the problem.”  — Beacon