Poetry Blog by Jonathan Mamczynski

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Jonathan Mamczynski on Remembrance (Tue, 24 Jan 2012 12:25 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Remembrance (Mon, 23 Jan 2012 08:49 pm)

M.C. Newberry on Remembrance (Wed, 18 Jan 2012 04:17 pm)

Laura Taylor on Remembrance (Wed, 18 Jan 2012 01:27 pm)

Jonathan Mamczynski on Torn between Right and Left (Wed, 18 Jan 2012 11:58 am)

Harry O'Neill on Torn between Right and Left (Sat, 14 Jan 2012 04:18 pm)

on A Bed Sheet Apart (Sat, 6 Aug 2011 03:50 pm)

Ray Miller on A Bed Sheet Apart (Fri, 5 Aug 2011 08:10 pm)

Jonathan Mamczynski on A Bed Sheet Apart (Fri, 5 Aug 2011 03:21 pm)




I remember:


The garden-fresh smell of the air;

the sun bleeding through the

umbrella of leaves. Butterflies

like fairies ballet dancing above

daffodils, bluebells and snowdrops.

It should have rained that day.


I remember:


Beautiful bunches of flowers -

shaped to read your name.

Lilies, roses and forget-me-nots.

My young f...

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Torn between Right and Left


Human behaviour is a product

of intentions that arise from

desires and beliefs. Purkinje axons

project outside the cerebellum. Genes

build protons, but only God knows what happens next…


The cell fires signals like a machine gun;

atherosclerotic lesions. The seat of reason.

Strong wind, earthquake-shock, and fire may pass by:

But I shall follow the gui...

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The gloves are off and we go to War!

Blood, sweat and tears; nobody’s scoring -

rounds pass without resolution;

heavyweight conflicts neither won nor lost.


Loathed to cease punching against these walls;

the judges are gone, the lights out -

in this paradoxical ring there is us!


We agonise from a tangent length,

determined not to throw the towel;

fervent lovers unable to agree upon truce.


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A Bed Sheet Apart

On a single sheet, still we lie,

I wonder if she can see the noose -

wrapped around my heart I can’t untie!


Appears creases that did once act –

to mark our electric spark,

have long since been ironed flat.


The side that once remained cold –

befriended by her again;

whilst to the edge, my lonely bones hold.


Ominous sound of another sigh;


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