The Art of Whispering by mindgallery

As winter approaches and my colors
change to the soft somber
shades of
fall

i remember many years ago
a million moments
away

how you lifted my lid
and set me
free

your light leaving an
indelible

imprint on my heart
that still

glows

And i still remember
the purity
of

your laughter
and how
it

made me
smile

mindgallery . twitter

It’s hard to believe that ten years have passed since Lovelorn Poets was launched. It’s been a wild ride, an interesting journey, and an exploration that changed me as a writer, creative, and human. Thank you to the hundreds of anonymous writers, including those who chose not to stay hidden, and the thousands of poems, stories, ramblings and humor they shared on Craigslist. The archives are now empty and my work here is done. Cheers!

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Art is a lot like love (2017) by Bison Jack

For all of it: The slight of hands and
sideways glances, the destruction of
innocence and the inevitable consequences.
For all of it: the easy lies and the broken
promises, the last chances and the lost causes.
For all of it: the lust, the pity, the anger and
futility, the shallow graves of good intentions
and the late-night kisses of ecstasy.
For all of it: the laughter, the sunlight in a
stranger’s tears, the infinite pause of beauty
and the echoes of oblivion.

For all of it, I swear I wouldn’t change
a thing–except maybe the timing.

-Bison Jack

With this being the final week of publishing Missed Connections poetry here at Lovelorn Poets, I couldn’t sign off without a final adieu to Bison Jack and all of the inspiring work that came from Savannah over the last decade. It’s hard to pick a favorite Bison poem, but this one is a serious contender – and all so very appropriate for summing up my Craigslist fascination.

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Wind is Blowing by mindgallery

Like Bob Dylan once said “You don’t need
a weather man to tell
you

which way the wind is
blowing”

–

And like a wild horse we set an
ardent course thinking
who’s gonna
provide

the inside to
the out
side

mindgallery . twitter

Another gem from mindgallery and the Brooklyn Missed Connections. Written years ago but it feels like yesterday and sums up today (and possibly tomorrow) pretty well. When everyone is taking sides, you’re either inside or outside. And you don’t need a weather man to tell you how problematic that quickly becomes.

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The Art of Fabrication by mindgallery

Humor

A – in medieval physiology : a fluid or juice of an animal or plant
specifically one of the four fluids entering into
the constitution

B – of the body and determining by their relative proportions
a person’s health and
temperament

C – Something that is designed to be comical or amusing
the book is a collection of American
humor

Tumbling into a big pile of mush
and left dangling
by the way
side

mindgallery . twitter

Left dangling by the wayside is a good way to describe it. And there’s little humor to be found in the fluidity of the constitutional humors. But I’m sure someone is finding all of this comical, amusing, or even humorous. Welcome back, medieval times!

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Puppet Show by mindgallery

O my dishonorable henchmen
you come at a
most

inglorious time filled with
filth lies and dis
honesty

but honestly we’d never
ever want to be
like you

–

It sucks being sucked up
into the
void

believe me i know but
even amongst
all

the pain i believe we
can always
start

again

–

Actually out of any
president
before

him he looks the
most like a
puppet

mindgallery . twitter

What a week it has been. What a week it will be. I wonder if mindgallery had any idea of what the future was to hold when he posted this poem to the Brooklyn Missed Connections nearly four years ago…

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The Way Everything Sits by mindgallery

in between the tall grass
and flights of
fancy

it was three miles down
when we met at the
lazy river

you were wearing stove
pipe trousers and
I was

contemplating the
way everything
sits

mindgallery . twitter

When the COVID situation gets me down, I think of everything I’m going to do once the pandemic is over. One of the things I miss most is having impromptu social interactions – grabbing a post-yoga juice with your favorite teacher, chatting with your neighborhood bartender while waiting for friends to arrive, birthday parties and cookouts and going to see live music. It’s the meaning and importance of these connections that I often contemplate – as flights of fancy are so hard to come by right now.

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Empty Space by Daniel Go

Before I try and navigate
space and time, in an
attempt to tell the story
of my life, perhaps I should
begin with the untelling;
for somewhere between
what actually happened
and what I tell myself
happened was the exile
of a boy’s imagining.

–Bison Jack

Bison Jack’s poems have been a part of this project since he first started posted them on the Savannah Missed Connections. In the ensuing years, it was always a pleasant surprise to find his work and watch the gradual metamorphosis of various pieces. Exile was one that had several versions but I believe this was the final iteration before Craigslist changed its moderation practices – which now feels like 100 life-times ago.

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Place by mindgallery

There is no logical reason why
we should survive
this mission

except that we’ve been given
permission to
exist

in space in the
first

place

mindgallery . twitter

This long-ago poem from mindgallery and the Brooklyn Missed Connections seems so relevant right now. So much division over who has authority, who has the right to exist, and what that existence should look like. Our missions all come to an end at some point, why can’t we try harder to live in peace while we can?

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Waiting to Sit by Darwin Bell

Pardon my Trebuchet*

So many young fine ladies seem to cast their eyes at me,
But all I do is sit here writing, waiting for Godot;
I’m sure they sometimes wonder why I sit around alone,
It’s not my will to be that way, which one can likely see.
But part of human nature is to fear what we don’t know;
We’d rather wait for someone else to roll away the stone,
And try to hide our wounded hearts by lying on them, prone,
Preventing anyone from planting love’s own seeds to grow–
Solitary, unattached, yet anything but free.
The glory of the loves I’ve lost is nothing that would show,
Nor how I fought like Stonewall Jackson in a blinding snow,
Nor all the times I’ve tried to change the way the dice are thrown,
Nor all the cruel treacheries I failed to foresee,
Nor how I’m not unfriendly, only frozen to the bone…

*(post-Petrarchan sonnet)

At the heart of it, Missed Connections was a meeting place for people outside of the in-person, public realm. While not everyone was searching for the same thing, it did offer an interesting mix of hustlers and heart-breakers, poets and players, and all sorts of personalities in-between. And for those who never posted a word, it was still a curious and entertaining diversion because who hasn’t ever wondered what connections might have slipped by?

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Untitled by mindgallery

God lives in all the crevices
we forget about
every

time we forget about
ourselves

*

And like jazz musicians we were
just riffing on similar
themes

– evolution

Another week comes to a close, and with it, new levels of head-shaking craziness appear. But instead of focusing on the negativity and uncertainty, let’s take a closer look at the objects, people, and environments we’ve forgotten about. At least for the weekend. The craziness will be there waiting for us when Monday returns.

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Heart in Hand by Marc Falardeau

September is now October
September autumn evening
Is soon to be a October autumn morning.
Ahhh autumn mornings
The falling of leafs
All scattered on the roads
A Cool autumn breeze
Ahhh autumns charm
Ahhh Canada the classical
Ahhh Toronto the treacherous
Ahhh Parkdale the passionate
October autumn mornings
Soon to be October evenings
Ahhh Parkdale in the autumn
Ahhh Parkdale women in the
October autumn evenings.
And another sweet autumn breeze
Life is good in October
Life is in full balance in October
October brings Thanksgiving
October brings a Happy Halloween
October is the month of love….

I’ve had this October poem from the “Parkdale poet” of the Toronto Missed Connections for a long time. This October, we’re all struggling to find balance and goodness, but happiness and love can be found – we just have to dig a little deeper for it.

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Fall by mindgallery

As winter approaches and my colors
change to the soft somber
shades of
fall

i remember many years ago
a million moments
away

how you lifted my lid
and set me
free

your light leaving an
indelible

imprint on my heart
that still

glows

mindgallery . twitter

After such a tumultuous week, I think we could all use something warm and comforting. This long-ago poem from mindgallery and the Brooklyn Missed Connections really hits the spot. Let’s all remember our favorite memories of love and togetherness  – we need them now more than ever.

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untiltled by txmx2

Away or to?
But I got caught.

I would have
And would have

Quadrupeds
Become birds

Caught in the
Inevitable

Cycles of things
Death versus wings

Love versus words.
And we who broke

Escape those skies
To those skies

Peace at last
Even I

Who had been
So long raving.

I love the lines, “Escape those skies To those skies” in this long-ago found poem from the Western Massachusetts Missed Connections. The autumn election season is here, and like the migrating birds, I think we all have the desire to fly away from the terrible situation that has taken over our government. Do you also feel “caught in the inevitable”?

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Climates Change by mindgallery

The last time we saw the mountain
it was 1965 and bowling was
the new

yoga

we knitted ourselves scarves
to stay warm and
stretched

our imaginations on plywood
floors

and we focused on a new
language where
nature

nurtured

the last time i saw the
mountain i laid
down to

rest

and when i awoke the
mountain was

gone

mindgallery . twitter

The mountains of dirt are still here but the mountains of ice are disappearing at such a rapid pace there’s no turning back. Climates change but we continue to deny our role in it. How much will the waters need to rise before people believe?

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Looking Over by parkdale

Looking over towards
The harvest moon
Ahhh this is it folks
Alignments of fortune
The deep dark red
The celestial moonlight
September autumn evenings
Falling in love with you
My dear magnetic blue.
I kept sailing over the high tides
The rough rocky waves
The enchanted delusion 

Autumn evenings are here and the night-time sky arrives earlier and earlier. The 2020 Harvest Moon will be on October 1 and I wonder what news and delusions it will bring for the month ahead…

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