An update on the new direction of ‘The Poetry Jar’!

8th July 2013,

Hello to all aspiring writers and poets!

I have recently taken over this blogzine from its creator Bruce Ruston, who has decided to focus on other artistic endeavours at this time.

I have many thoughts and goals on the new direction of The Poetry Jar, the main aspiration being to provide a platform that explores the ability of different forms of creative writing, to access unconventional disciplines that would not traditionally be associated with the creative arts.

At this point in time, I would like to put forth a call for submissions of poetry/short stories/dialogues that marry creative frameworks with unconventional subject matter. There is no limit on creativity, imagination and scope.

There is no payment made for published material. All copyright rests with the writer. Please feel free to publish work elsewhere simultaneously.


Stacey McPhail



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in the Java ‘n’ Jazz – Mark Redford

                                                      in the Java ‘n’ Jazz the




                                                chorded and semi-toned (down the

                                                                        neck) and

                                                            always regained on the


                                    minor before the bay window-front


                                                a muggy Saturday afternoon


                        like Sunday used to be with all the shops

                                                closed and

                                    with clockwork


            the pavement shop sign is folded up

                                    and returned closed

                        by the door


with next week’s opening times



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Jane Avril at the Moulin Rouge 1893 – Bart Barker

Jane Avril at the Moulin Rouge 1893

I let men believe
The rhythm of the bass
Makes me lose control
Of my feet
My legs
My hips
That I must yield to
The frantic beat
That I don’t mean to
Reveal these petticoats
But of course
It’s all a show
And men are simple
To control


To see more of Bart’s work, check out the links below!



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Places in My Mind – Steve Manolis

I find you in the smallest of places in my mind

Thoughts creep in on sudden footsteps

Or softly as if you are hunting for an opportunity.


I find you in the simplest moments of the sky

Crashing down upon me as gully-washers do.

Or floating lazily across azure heavens.


I find you in the corner of the darkest of shadows

Contrasted against simple love wanting to please

Or sweetly resting in my arms seeking solace from the night.


I find you in the tiniest lights at night

Streaking madly with your light showing the way

Or twinkling to the words of this poet’s eye.


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The World is Made Of – Randi Cramer

The World is Made Of

The world is made of vegetable gardens
and four poster beds that want you to find the area.
Everything has a number.
Death and life are full of numbers.
God is a number,
an undefinable line,
backflipping across your graph paper:
young Olympian.

In old stock film footage,
the animals are whole numbers.
The princess, a fraction, is all incomplete
until the handsome prince finds her,
fills her in in all the right places.
The villain may come, he says,
the perfect complement,
the chaos of zero,
the mad hat of deity,
that hole in the number line
where nothing else can go

until some mad mustachioed Indian
draws a line,
pulls it into an arc,
screams aloud his discovery
so that the virgins napping on the hill
splay their fingers in alarm.

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