Welcome to Lothlorien Poetry Journal. I look forward to receiving and reading your submissions and hope you decide to stay and follow. Best wishes ~ Strider
Four Poems by Mary Bone
Finding My Voice I was silent for awhile until I found my voice. A shrill sound through the night echoed in the canyon. Cric...
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Hung Before I Am Heard I am gagged. Live on other people’s terms. I have no voice. I try to speak. They shut me up. Be gra... -
Data Crunchers II - IV II Inside the computations there’s an assimilation of the very self-ness of self; it exposes corruptions... -
Priestess Nazca Hair, Peru – the skull of a woman, possibly a priestess, with hair still attached, from approximately 200 BCE. The hair ... -
Dream of the Homeplace The oaks regrown, cornfields stretching to woods, hickory standing, unstruck by lightning. Slam of the ... -
Presence of Being The slight ring of the back porch chimes resonates through the air tingling sensate neurons that enable emotional and sp... -
Frogs "Grow grass, stone frogs," written on bathroom walls. Hippie beads, oodles colourful acid pills in dress... -
John Kucera Exposed As Serial Plagiarist Plagiarism by John Kucera. I have been informed by Gabriel Ehri, the executive director of F... -
A sidereal timetable To the best of my — admittedly — limited knowledge, there are something like seven trillion galaxies in ... -
THE CHANGELING By Ursula O’Reilly. My grandmother had a distinct talent for storytelling. She would sit beside the open fire... -
The Soft Machine Faultlines. Call- igraphies of longing. Some- times feldspar. Young girls on cellphones con- gregate ou...
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