Richard Schnap

Dear Readers & Poets,

I know I recently closed this journal, so I don't know how many of you are still subscribed or reading Black Poppy, but I wanted to share some sad news I received this morning about fellow poet Richard Schnap. As you know, he's been a constant contributor to this journal with his poetry appearing just about every month. He was one of my favorites and also became a good friend to me. His partner emailed me this morning and told me that Richard passed away on Christmas Day. I had no idea and I'm still shocked and completely saddened by this news. I just can't believe it.

I published a chapbook for him last year, under Flutter Press, titled A Wind from Nowhere. He was so excited about finally putting together a collection of poems. If you're interested in purchasing a copy, it is available at this link:  https://www.createspace.com/6215080 or on Amazon.com. I'd like to make it available until the end of the month because I know so many of you enjoyed his poems as much as I did. After the end of February, I'm going to retire his book as I don't feel it's right to continue selling it when he's no longer here. All royalties will be sent to his partner, Alice.

Update:  I'm going to continue selling Richard's chapbook through Flutter Press. However, the press will not be earning any royalties, they will continue to be sent to his partner.

Crawling Toward the Light by Richard Schnap

I have known many strangers
Talking to whoever would listen
While waiting at unmarked bus stops
With long abandoned routes

And I have seen withered women
Gazing through jewelry store windows
At diamonds reflected in the depths
Of their tear-edged longing eyes

And I have heard voices calling
In the cold darkness of nighttime
For someone or something to guide them
Under skies devoid of stars

And I have witnessed figures
Through curtains lit by candles
That move to a private music
Dancing alone with their shadows







Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Questionnaire by Richard Schnap

Where shall we go
When all the roads carry us
To the same blank wall

And what shall we sing
When all the soulful ballads
End on the same broken note

Shall we still wander on
Like blind men through a void
Growing fainter every day

And mouth words that rise
Only to fade in the roar
Of an iron-throated wind

Or shall we seek shelter
Behind doors that once locked
Can never be reopened

To mutter strange melodies
Sprung from the madness
We each must bear alone







Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Black Sunday by Richard Schnap

I hear the toll of a broken bell
That calls the few that still have faith
Rising in the bloody dawn
From borrowed dreams they do not own

They walk the tilted streets toward
The temples bruised by heartless winds
Where painted saints stare mutely down
Like soldiers maimed in forgotten wars

And then the congregation bows
To speak the words of private prayers
Held within their minds so long
They struggle to remember them

But the candle on the altar high
Still flickers to defeat their gloom
Reflected in their beaten eyes
Like a beacon that has yet to die






Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Tattoo

She was 18 when she had

It woven in her skin

A brilliant scarlet rose

Emerging from her heart




That opened when she fell

Beneath the spell of love

As if it had become

A creature of its own




For when the kisses fled

To feast on fresher flowers

She first began to feel

The thorns upon its stem




And as her days grew dark

The petals seemed to fade

As the spikes began to coil

Like serpents in the night
























Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Undead / Touched by the Hand of Madness

UNDEAD

She wore a cape
With a hood that hid
Her face from revealing light

As she prowled the streets
Embraced by the night
A friend that had never betrayed her

She lurked in shadows
Spinning her webs
To catch unsuspecting prey

To feed the throats
Of her many addictions
Creatures with insatiable thirsts

And for those that fell
Beneath her sway
She’d reward with a passionless kiss

Like a ravenous phantom
Leaving deep rooted wounds
That would never completely heal

TOUCHED BY THE HAND OF MADNESS

He felt he was under
A spell that was cast
By a woman whose love
He had spurned

Who vowed she would seek
A merciless vengeance
So cold he would
Long for death

And when he had
His tarot cards read
They pointed to a
Dark future

As he became a recluse
In the cell of his room
To be haunted by
His own ghost

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Heartland

I hear the cry
Of a lonely train
Betrayed by its own tracks

As it travels through
Insomniac cities
Afraid of their guilt-ridden dreams

It crosses bridges
Over stricken rivers
Abandoned to bleed in the sun

And over mountains
Resembling idols
Carved by a blind man’s hand

Finally it reaches
An empty temple
As grey as a corpse’s skin

A forgotten relic
That’s now home to ghosts
Each one with a ghost of its own

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Endangered Species / Cage of Night

Endangered Species

She was a caged bird
Her wings atrophied
By a predator’s shadow

Singing to herself
A lament in a language
From an extinct age

While passersby snickered
As if she was a specimen
In a museum’s diorama

Or a sideshow attraction
In a realm of mannequins
With assembly line dreams

Cage of Night

She dressed all in black
To match the dark shadow
Currently in fashion

Advertised on the covers
Of check-out line magazines
That chronicled the latest trends

There was one in particular
That depicted celebrities
In the vestments of priests

Who promoted life styles
Derived from a bible
Whose pages were blank

But deep in her heart
Was a secret star
That she kept to herself

For a time to come
When the wind would change
And the sky would open again

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Deliverance / Portent

Deliverance

In her dream she could fly
And had powers to rescue
Trapped prisoners from their cages

Lifting them up high
To set them down on paths
Where they would know freedom

But then their keeper appeared
Who claimed they were his
And demanded them back

As she looked in her hand
And saw a throng of dolls
With no voices of their own

Portent

She stood looking down
At his grave as if
It was a door locked
With a buried key

Remembering how he said
That if he died
He would send her a sign
From the rumored beyond

And as a soft wind
Caressed her cheek
Like a loving hand
Wiping away her tears

A tiny white bird
Landed on his tombstone
And sang her a melody
She seemed to know by heart

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - House of the Dead / Hereafter

House of the Dead

Each room was home
To a different phantom
Buried in its own burden

The one that labored
To leave its heirs
A fortune of priceless sorrow

The one that drowned
In a lifetime of tears
As deep as any ocean

The one that learned
Too late that love
Is a coin that has two sides

But one escaped
Leaving the others
To forever haunt themselves

As it rose from the grave
To begin to compose
A story with a brighter ending

Hereafter

In the heart of the night
I hear her voice
As if she had never died

In a siren’s howl
Mouthing the wounds
The world inflicted upon her

In a passing car
Its radio blaring
A ballad both whisper and scream

In the lonesome cry
Of a distant train
Trying to escape from itself

And sometimes in the wind
Shaking the trees
That seems to come from nowhere

And in the tears of rain
In a broken rhythm
Falling from an empty sky

Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Beyond the Grave / Thirst

Beyond the Grave



After he died

She kept seeing his face

Appearing before her



In the smeared window

Of a passing bus

Alone in the back



On the label of a bottle

Of imported wine

On a liquor store’s shelf



In the heart of a cloud

Passing overhead

During a gentle rain



And she felt he was trying

To tell her a secret

That only the dead know



That someday she would

Come to understand

When they were joined again









Thirst



I wake from a dream

Of the woman I loved

A thousand years ago



Whose arctic kiss

Has changed me into

A creature haunting the night



I rise from my bed

Beneath the dark sky

Feeling neither old nor young



Still wondering if

My immortal fate

Is a blessing or a curse



But now it is time

To seek out the blood

I need to stay alive



As I look in the mirror

To see once again

It reflects nothing at all













Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Hollow Halloween / Subterraneans

Hollow Halloween




First came the witches

Eager to cast spells

Who encountered a world

Already in a trance




Then came the werewolves

Hungry for fresh meat

Who only found other

Carnivorous beasts




Next came the phantoms

Risen from the grave

Who discovered dead souls

That haunted themselves




For while they all slept

Waiting for their time

A new age of monsters

Had made them obsolete
















Subterraneans




In the tunnels of my memory

Dwell the creatures of my youth




The night-stalking vampires

Who preyed upon each other




The zombies whose cold hunger

Was guided by remote control




The black-leathered witches

Whose touch turned souls to ice




The aliens whose faces

Bore a thousand eyes




The bloodthirsty werewolves

Hidden behind beguiling masks




But now they all lie buried

In the graveyard of my dreams




The monsters I befriended

In a world that is no more



















Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Exposure

The Indians believed
That to take their photos
Was really a way
To capture their souls

I think of this when
My driver’s license renews
As I face the camera
Like an arrested man

For over the years
Each one seems to grow
More out of focus
And a little more grey

As if I am fading
To someday confront
A lens that reveals
The face of a ghost






Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Entity

Sometimes I hear it

From the apartment above

A man softly strumming

For someone who’s not there




And sometimes I see it

In the street down below

A young girl in black

With a liquor store bag




And sometimes I feel it

When the hand of the wind

Scatters the blossoms

Of the magnolia next door




But always I know it

As the light fades away

And another day passes

Without learning its name






















Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Asylum

The tides of life

Bring the skeletons of ships

For they are now ruled

By a lunatic moon




Spreading them over

The shores of the world

Whose bone white beaches

Become graveyards of grey




And each one spills

The bodies of sailors

Their dead eyes still fixed

On the treacherous stars




For the heavens seem caught

In their own dark madness

Mirroring the ones

Driving men to their doom













Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Last Gasp

I see a realm of ghosts
Longing to find out
Who they were in real life

If they were captains of industry
Or only bitter slaves
Held beneath their sway

For the indifferent wind
Has erased their names
From the cold garden of stones

Leaving them to wonder
If they won life’s gamble
Or lost in a fool’s wager

And now they look back
As the next world beckons
To bestow its amnesia

Where they will be the same
Shadows without faces
Left to haunt each other







Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Richard Schnap - Shroud

Above the city’s lights

Hang dull orange clouds




Stained with the shade

Of a century’s rust




They make me remember

The long-gone mills




Whose bodies were razed

But whose spirits endure




I think of soldiers

Caught in the grip




Of a diabolical war

Whose wages were death




And even though their hands

Built the skeleton of a nation




Their souls find no rest

As they haunt the night sky



















Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.