Tag Archives: Poetry

Poetry

The Breeze & The Black Door: Poems by Mack W. Mani [OUT NOW]

I’m pleased to announce the release of my debut collection of poetry, available now via Amazon. Most of these pieces have been published separately in literary magazines over the last ten years, and it’s my pleasure to present them alongside several previously unpublished poems. Complimentary digital copies are available upon request for the purposes of review (see below). Here’s a little more information on the collection:

A cold breeze on a hot summer day.

Hot breath on Halloween night.

Distant stars beckon and blink out of existence.

From within the dusty halls of an old mansion, the black door is calling, waiting to be opened…

In this debut collection from award-winning poet Mack W. Mani, haunted houses, nuclear reactors, dystopian cityscapes, and unincorporated territories are twisted and reflected into prophetic visions of the past, present, and future. By turns startling and profound, these poems find new connections and meanings in the genres of horror, myth, and science-fiction. Purchase a digital or paperback copy via Amazon, with other retail options forthcoming.

If you would like to read The Breeze & The Black Door for free, with no obligation other than providing an honest review, please reach out to the author via email at MWMani@gmail.com with your name and preferred format of document (epub, pdf, docx, etc). Reviews can then be left on the website of your choice, though Goodreads, Amazon, or your personal website are preferred. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact the above address.

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Poetry

The Breeze & The Black Door

Have you ever lost someone to themselves? Watched slowly as they slipped away from you, despite everything you’d been through? My latest poem in Deadlands Issue #41 is about the ones we love and how they can change right before our eyes, day by day, until all that is left of them is a memory. Read the full poem here along with the rest of the issue for FREE. But here’s an excerpt to get you started:

I heard some movement at my front door
but it was just a storm.

Drank my beer over the sink
so I didn’t stain my shirt anymore.

Fixed the leak
and found a place on the floor.

Wife’s been leaving the back door unlocked.

Not every night,
but enough to raise the question.

She bought some paint and a brush home
from Benny’s Department Store.

Had me paint that old back door
as black as a raven.

So I stripped myself to the waist
to feel the Halloween breeze
and did as she pleased.

I heard her unlock it
last night in her sleep.

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Poetry

Champagne Remnants in The Non-Binary Review

I have a new sci-fi poem out now in The Non-Binary Review issue #40. The theme was epiphany and I had a great time writing this one. Read an excerpt below and get your copy here!

Champagne Remnants

Shipwrecked on Blackstone Delta
S.O.S.

Her hometown became a dream,
a glittery story filled with secrets,
caricatures and blue neon hues;
Twin Peaks by way of John Hughes.

Small town gods,
brief and beautiful
finite and divine:
mayors and mayor’s sons
garage bands and single moms
shiny linoleum dulling all summer long,
cigarette smoking schoolgirl dreams
descending every night to rocky shores
of methane swamps where it is said
2001 is a nursery rhyme.

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Poetry

Arcas & Callisto in Polu Texni Magazine

Polu Texni is a fantastic magazine that I was fortunate to be featured in a couple of times. This piece was inspired by the greek legend of Arcas & Callisto as well as the constellations that bare their names. Or should I say…bear?

they always told me,
You should have seen her back when she-
(before she had you)
the beautiful hairless nymphs
of Boucher and Titan
had nothing on her
cut marble eyes
Mariah Carey jeans
endless flowing midnight hair

Your mother was a looker kid,
you know that?

...

[Read the full poem for FREE over at Polu Texni Magazine: http://www.polutexni.com/?p=10850]
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Poetry

Two New Poems

The Psycho-Maid’s Dream

Slaughter, laughter, and virtual reality collide in this piece up over at Liquid Imagination. For this piece I was inspired by Dark Souls, Silent Hill, and the short story “I Have No Mouth and I must Scream” by Harlan Ellison.

Sanctuary

Post-apocalyptic survivors thrive in a mountain sanctuary in this poem up over in the new issue of Strange Horizons. SH is a great magazine and I’m very excited to be featured there for the first time.

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Poetry, Previously Published

The Ghost of Sigma Chi

My latest poem is up in issue 82 of The Pedestal Magazine. It’s a supernatural horror poem, with its roots in my college years. I was never a member of a fraternity, but I was friends with many who were and spent quite a bit of time in Greek houses. I even worked in a sorority house kitchen my sophomore year.

Every university has its share of urban legends and ghost stories, they’re frightening, but also comforting in their familiarity. By the time you graduate you’ve heard them all in every variation. I tried to capture the truth and horror of those kinds of stories with this poem.

The Ghost of Sigma Chi 
by Mack W. Mani
[The Pedestal Magazine – Issue 82]

 

Thanks for taking a look and be sure to check out the rest of the issue while you’re there!

 

Photo by  Oleksandr Pidvalnyi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Poetry

T O P I A R Y

Statues line the promenade,
sun bleached and wind worn
tucked between the palms
one or two lay crumbling,
beheaded, missing limbs,
impromptu Venus

On summer nights like these,
the ocean spray blows in
to cover the city like mist
gently drowning our ambition
in seasaltbreeze

Cyan & amethyst
LED streetlights,
empty quads and alleys
where someone is playing
a Haydn Quartet
mixed by way of Moroder,
windows spilling neon
and complacent violin
-the neighborhood a mash
of old brick and new glass
looking for all the world like
something out of
la quartier mécanique

And right here’s my favorite
24hr. detox and Japanese takeout place
the soda fountains all serve
GHB and TAB Clear
(think Crystal Pepsi w/caffeine),
Arizona Ice Tea,
and water that tastes like zinc

From the corner booth
you can just make out
across the street,
through the gently
shifting fronds
a dozen TV-VCR combos
stacked in an immaculate
storefront window all playing
the Twin Peaks pilot on endless loop

While beyond,
the sea stacks sway
and glisten in
the dead summer haze
and together we melt
into A E S T H E T I C

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