When I Eyed Your Evil Eyes

What transpired next caused me great harm,
For I learnt I was conned, fooled
By you and those you had valued;
Places you’d been to were revealed,
So were lanes you’d trodden upon;
I smiled though my heart rang bruised bells.

Ethereal Beauty

Magical was this Sunset
By the Sea
As the art unfolded
Of the masterpiece
Sunset by the Sea at Twilight Time

As many times
That as l have witnessed
Sunsets and Sunrises
Living by the Sea;
Never
Have l seen such
Ethereal Beauty

From Nothing

The sky beams bright
In sparkled shine.
The room lights up in faith.
I breathe in hope.
I feel the strength
Of my invisible army
And embrace their presence.

The ‘Thoughtful’ Train

The snakes sometimes squirmed like worms you’d detest
While en route to work fields that gleamed on Earth,
And like raged, raging winds hoping not to rest,
They oft assailed and harmed and caused great dearth.

My Journey

My journey has not
been easy or short.
And I have no wish
to beat the hurts
like a dead horse.
Much of my life
has been laid out
in my page end
to end.

Winter Song

A cloudy winter morning after a prolonged freezing chill
All these months, not one but three
The burrows emptying their rations
Hearts gathering their paces
Young couple from their frictional warmth
Venturing into balconies hand in hand

Torrid Turbulence

A torrid turbulence beset the evening
As mists swirled and leaves blew amok one cold night
While fearsome frosts gathered at the edge of the kingdom
Their assault by stealth to commence
Slowly forth by degrees they did creep
Under the cloak of darkness when all were abed

Inner Child

It’s okay to be broken
And let it all out
All the words you’ve left unspoken
That you’re unable to shout
Cry little girl
You’re not out of place
Go right ahead child
Have the tears roll down your face

‘Loving’ Friend

There’s a world abiding in each where blooms love;
Nothing great can be gained if yon world dies!
I say rear the world now; never ask when.
Would that you could grasp what in yon world lies!

Rescued by Poetry

Author Robert Stubblefield started writing around the age of ten. As a matter of fact, he began composing poems at the time as a way to cope with the loss of his grandmother. Speaking exclusively to The Literary Juggernaut, the twenty-eight-year-old American author and poet, who is currently residing in Maryland, the US, says poetry has always helped him express his feelings towards the world around him. Emphasising that he usually writes when he has the urge to pen down his thoughts and whenever he feels low, Mr Stubblefield, who holds a bachelor’s degree besides two master’s degrees, says he composes poetry so he may articulate the deepest of his thoughts in ways he cannot do when he happens to be speaking.

Rebirth

I always looked round in your universe
I noticed that others had lives that were worse
So why years of drinking to blot out the pain
I have lame excuses but I just can’t explain

Emotional Fireflies

Thousand of whirling stars speckle the inscrutable blue curtain
graciously displaying a jubilant dance before the eyes of curious night owls,
accompanied by soul filled, hidden noises,
enveloped by the warm numbing scents of the vegetal creation.

The Force That Guides the Worlds Galore

I suggest you now grasp that heart’s core
Is illumed by none but God; thought ain’t vain.
Same is force that guides the worlds galore,
One birthed by a chaste woman. Prized lore!

You Slew Your Soul

But I suppose there is no fun
In leading what you’re leading – gruesome life;
You think not of superb acts dropped
Before you say the thoughts that stay well popped
Until slain is the mental strife!
And goodness goes on to stand sadly done.

When I First Looked Into Your Eyes

Lambasted love couldn’t even minds
That shall float now, forever,
Be born again to be dead, gone.
That is life’s nature; it quite binds,
Creating love in ways clever
In order that worlds may move on.

The Excellent Writer Within

The secret to excellent writing is to enjoy with ecstatic abandonment each letter and syllable we put down on paper. The pure joy of writing makes us successes; nothing else will. Those who tell us we have to struggle and sweat have not grasped true meaning in their lives. We need no approval of any human to be a success.

Testimonials

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Erich von Hungen

Having been interviewed by Vatsarah Stavyah (you can read the interview here), I can say that The Literary Juggernaut is AHEAD OF THE PACK. It is perceptive, astute, caring. It is curious, interested, unafraid, committed. It is there. It is all that you would most want from a literary journal, especially now with so much overload. It is a path, that is, to something new and true and real. Of all the journals out there, The Literary Juggernaut is just that, a juggernaut, and it is worth your time. Trust it. Read it.

Jackie Ross Flaum

I’m writing to congratulate you on a marvelous job writing up the interview with me and my work. I’ve put the Dec. 27 article all over my pages.

As a former journalist, I know how difficult it is to write an interview story that is factual and captures the person’s personality. I felt you did both. Well done!
And thank you.

Jesse S Frankel

To the owners and operators of The Literary Juggernaut, I’d like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to express my thoughts in an interview I recently did for you. Many authors try to get some form of public recognition and publicity for their efforts; you have given me both. I only wish that more blog sites would do the same!

As a writer, it is never easy. We spend long hours writing and rewriting, advertising on Twitter and other forums, chatting with fellow writers on techniques, and just plain doodling around until inspiration hits. It is good to know sites like yours exist that help us spread the word about our work.

Once again, my greatest thanks!

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