Vol. 3, No. 2
Writers
Earl Bradford – Port of Shadows
Norm Sabowitz – Brief Encounter
Charlotte Wilson-Hammond – Tintagel
Scot Jamieson – poem may be monitored
Heddy Johannesen – Woods in Twilight
Erica Lewis – Other Poets
Matt Robinson – Driver’s Seat, Late Dec.
Nathaniel S. Rounds – Travels by Land and Air
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winter nights
Poem by Meg Baird
winter nights
are quiet and peaceful
you know
only the wind howls
snow falls silently
winter without wind
is a white light
gives a crystal prism view
of the morning’s mauves
pinks
cold blues
I love the look of winter
the feel of man-made warmth
the promise that it holds
and never fails to bring
of spring!
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The Tao of Hope
Poem by Tim Barker
I awake each morning in
a hospital bed
I am fed one can of beans
and one can of beer
and I am told
“don’t worry,
the doctor will be here soon”
I am kept amused
by childrens cartoons
and news of war abroad
of celebrity gossip
the lottery jackpot winners
interrupted by the nurse
who tells me
“don’t worry,
the doctor will be here soon”
and feeds me one can of beans
and one can of beer
then leaves me to rest
for awhile
the library cart comes
for us long term patients
and we are fed one can of lies
and one can of sympathy
which we digest for weeks
before shitting it out
in relief and admiration
then the nurse tells me
“don’t worry
the doctor will be here soon
he can make it all better”
And I am fed one can of beans
and one can of beer
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Port of Shadows (Mid-Winter)
poem by Earl Bradford
tragic requiem on streets
in mid-winter – Transit strike
pending…
creased spires of pleated silhouettes;
woven into shroud of winter mist –
bleating redundancy of Apartment window panes
shadowy pedestrians now shudder
through chill European afternoon,
a shuffling era of grey mortar,
& morning brick… shoes splash through
sidewalk B-movie puddles;
St. Petersburg, maybe… Amsterdam;
a Henley suburb, 1873 – Dublin?
smoky absence of clean air…
horse or carriage, rickshaw.
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For Spring (# 2)
Haiku by Janet Brush
Crocuses push through,
Forsythia blooms yellow.
The earth is reborn.
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49
Poem by Jasmine Chater
inspired by Dennis Lee’s 49th poem (Riffs)
I layabout
was in your bed
with the magnified image of
-of you
with Literature by the lamps and on the ceilings…
I don’t want play, ribbon, or Literature
I want love
I just said love
but Gawd you changed
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Spoken Word
by Marian Chisholm
Is a modern art form
of speaking and poetry combined
an add on to the rapper
with a silver lining wrapper
of literature, prose, story telling and poetry
all in one to combine
a new style of language uniform.
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Fulfillment
Poem by Harry Garrison
Water has no taste
only to those who have not
a great enough thirst.
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This poem may be monitored
Poem by Scot Jamieson
Voicemail’s professionally alert,
professionally pleasant voice says,
as it sets up an interaction
with a live human, “Your call
may be monitored for quality
assurance,” but the voicemail
bringing you this assurance
will not be monitored, just as if
management – dear management –
knew very well that the one thing
you’d most want to change to improve
the quality of communication
(eliminate voicemail)
would be
the one thing
not up for discussion.
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Woods in Twilight
Poem by Heddy Johannesen
The sky is a pale blue
hue mirrored on
the ocean surface.
Sentinel spruce trees
shield the
eroding cliffs.
A spruce
scent sharpens
the air.
Reaching,
stretching,
rooting…
Mountains,
worn by time,
tumble into the ocean.
Woods in twilight
stand dark
against the sky.
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i hang low in the sky
i bring water rushing forth
there is no water within me
i bring harvest
yet my fields are barren
i hang as an empty womb in the sky
pock-marked and yellow
a serene camera lens aimed at fecundity
telescopic eye to life
i hang like a hollow egg in the sky
incubated by the weight of vastness
i will not hatch
i will hang among the supernovas
and pretend i am their mother
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Other Poets
Poem by Erica Lewis
Your words startle me,
bring about a familiarity, a comfort;
spur me on
to pour out my mind, let it spill
haphazardly, fearlessly,
knowing it will be welcomed
by other poets.
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Pieridae
Poem by Tiffany Morris
fig 1.2, cabbage butterfly,
no latin name available,
its torn-paper wings
unornate uncarved ivory
where scrapped soliloquies
called home,
figure 1.2, poised
on the green tufts
of sidewalk grass,
scattered, finally,
into inkless wind
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Broken Pieces
Poem by Angela Naugle
Just a bag
of broken pieces
sitting on your
doorstep,
waiting for you
to find me,
put me back
together
again.
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mish -mashed potpourri
naked words unveiled
fleeting thoughts passing
ordered disarray
I’m loving you more
stroke scorecard for two
love songs in the air
raw craving just grew
no poet am I
waste not words infused
just open ended love
is Cupid amused?
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Untitled (# 2)
Haiku by Lianne Perry
As far as it seems,
The distance is only from
Hand to heart, return.
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Icarus
Poem by David Rimmington
I flew too close to your golden love;
too close to your glorious song,
your meadows rippling with nectar,
your river’s meandering honey,
your woodlands webbed in mossy light.
I flew too close to your heart in steepest sky,
beyond my wings, which melted off,
beyond the match flame, up your alleys of fire;
and I was shrivelled by your flaming star.
Down I fell, plunging into sheets of ocean,
the mantle of the cooling, liquid grave.
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Driver’s Seat, Late December
Poem by Matt Robinson
to your eyes, the windshield, from white-knuckle
hunched here, is each hung-over morning’s first
sour-fogged glimpse since drink one.
……………navigation’s a thick-lidded blank
blinking, a near-crying shame; everything fulsome
with nothing but opacity’s weeping;
glances awash.…………… your stomach? tight
as those tenacious grannies you’ll later find snaked
in your tossed shoes’ abstruse lacing.
………….you intuit winter’s rain racing – against
itself – into you, frantic to undo some small thing.
……………..you can’t – you’ll grant – see, and fear
the tyres as rain-moled in their search
for purchase on asphalt.…………. as, all
for naught, your hands pull at the steering
wheel, struggle to agree on a true meaning for over.
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Marvellous Travels by Land and Air
Poem by Nathaniel S. Rounds
Chainlink Drive is nailed to Lacewood Drive
Lacewood turns into Captain Danjou’s wooden hand
We fight valiantly to catch up to
Doctor Thirsky and his enormous flying kite
We lose him as he flies above
A family restaurant
And two urbanized seagulls
Thirsky in silhouette against the cloud-veiled sun
Looks like Baron Karl Münchhausen
He pierces a cloud and makes it weep
We pull over until such sadness dissipates
And science can prevail once more over
Poetic justice
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Brief Encounter
Poem by Norm Sabowitz
Out for a walk, lost in thought,
I collided with another pedestrian.
“Sorry!” I almost shouted.
He replied “Hello, God”
I thought “That’s odd”
And asked “Who are you?”
He answered “Why, I’m God–aren’t you?”
And if I’d had my wits about me,
I would have said “Hey Man!–how are you?”
But before I could, he smiled,
Raised his thumb, Shook his head
And, chuckling as he walked on, said
“Man oh Man!”
And {poof!} he disappeared in such a flash
As woke me from my dream.
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Left to myself
I created a hell,
Burned myself in it
Knew not to break the spell.
The master of sins
A devil, did guide
In a swoon,
I did oblige.
I cried and cried-
“Break my chains”.
He sneered, “none can help”,
“In my hands lie the reins!”
Slowly, slowly…
I started to fall
In a deep dark well
None to answer my call.
I was being engulfed
Into the arms of doom…
But before to its depths I faded
And disappeared into the gloom,
I chanced to have a glance,
A good enough look
Of that ‘devil’, the sinner,
Startled, my being shook
And left me in a daze
For, he bore my countenance
And had my face!
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Crow song
Poem by László Szantor
Crow caws on dry twig on branch of dead tree
Man sighs and cries big on bench and beds free
Cawing crow, sighing man
Life aflow, liquid Zen
Life aflow, life aflow
For cawing crow and sighing man
Morning brings sunshine on bench and the tree
Crow flies and man smiles, he wants to be free
Flying crow, smiling man
Life aglow, sparkling gem
Life aglow, life aglow
For flying crow and smiling man
In his dream he heard the song of the crow
That love will teach him to go with the flow
Singing crow, smiling man
Morning light, warm again
Warm again, warm again
For singing crow and smiling man
Morning light, warm again
For singing crow and smiling man
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Equilibrium
Poem by Justin Tan
It’s not simply a matter of whim
the way a cloud will precipitate its fill
The eking out of words
is a fatiguing thing
I impel myself to go,
but am compelled to stop
Barefooted and inert
I eye the puddles up ahead
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Arriving
Poem by Elzy Taramangalam
Wanting away
From endless strife
Defined boundaries
We place boats
On the road
Toss carpet in a river
Without any malice or
Withering measurement
No charms, no chant
Magic comes from intensity
Making the real leap
To tide roads
That round us
To places which need no keys
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Words
Poem by Lisa Vandenboomen
Just words
that’s all they are
when did words become
empty words?
Aren’t words supposed to mean something?
Say what you mean
mean what you say
because words
should not just be words
they should mean something.
Otherwise, keep quiet.
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Tintagel
Poem by Charlotte Wilson-Hammond
ancient myths and lore
mists obscure
the old stone walls
and ruins of a fading
culture
wet grasses
sodden slates
and damp cows
await their fate
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Open Heart Forgery 