April 2014

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Vol. 5, No. 2

Janet BrushSaved By Books

Tim CarterMagnets

Ryan DodgeA Poppingly Good Time

Harry Garrison4 Haiku

Geoffrey Grantham6 Haiku

Cathy HanrahanEnigma

C. A. LamondBroccoli and Brussels Sprouts

David R. MacLeanI Hear a Voice

Mike McFetridgeIt’s Really Quite Easy To See

Nicole MyersLet Yourself Be

Dyrell NelliganNature’s Cry

Norm SabowitzHistory: A Mystery

Mary Ellen SullivanThe Cycling of Seeds

Josh Svecafter the tub

Ryan Taylor2504880046

Wendy WatkinsonHall of the Chosen Dead

Art WhiteMichael

Tamara WilliamsWithin the confines

Daniel YetmanThe Night the Rain Never Stopped

Robin YoungThe Low String

by Tim Carter

Sing bluebird juggernaut
Feel vibration beneath
The rainbow veil
At last with no thought
Blue sky you whisper
Wish happy
Sunshine warmth together
Make comfort & flower bloom

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6 Haiku
by Geoffrey Grantham

Old burial grounds
too late for linden blossoms
dark tombstones remain

This landscape I know
in the middle of somewhere
jack pines and granite

Lost in this painting
the pink glow of October
lingering sunset

Sublime early spring
purple hues held motionless
frozen waterfall

Enchanting spring stream
warm sunlight shines on bubbles
a loud sustained rush

Sunshine and stillness
the scene is set before me
winter afternoon

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after the tub
by Josh Svec

sometimes when I’m drinking
in my apartment
and I open the fridge
and see it there
I wonder
if it is safe
to switch
from Vodka and water
to chocolate milk

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The Low String
(Three Brothers- part 1)
by Robin Young

Leads the way
Owns the song
his subverted baritone
vibrates in your bones
the strong and silent type
goes to church
lives in the country
his hands are callused and ripe,
as though
he were working on his fingering all day,
and not his garden.
a real man, as they say
the kind of man
that every girl dreams of marrying
but that only one ever will.
The wise one
The favorite son

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The Cycling of Seeds
by Mary Ellen Sullivan

Seeds folded into furrows,
quickening in the spring-warmed soil.

Sprouts bursting though the membrane of earth,
unfurling fetal curls.

Wheat grains pouring, sparkling gold
brimming over, sifting through fingers.

Blanket of snow.
Suspended time. Vibrations of life.

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I Hear a Voice
by David R. MacLean

when the dew paints the ground,
when the moon leaves the sky,
the source of that sound,
half lyric, half cry,
so melodious,
the cat?

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History: A Mystery
by Norm Sabowitz

In the distant past,
Rapt in the wonderful whiteness of snow,
I scooted carelessly to school
On slippery sidewalks,
Surviving only somehow.
Presently, I stand breathless indoors and marvel
At the tons of dandruff
Falling from the head of God, and wonder:
What appalling future
Does this plaintive History

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The Night the Rain Never Stopped
by Daniel Yetman

Amidst the arbitrary storm that swayed me
So deeply I could not focus my fondness properly,
I sat against the gale and pondered upon
The pedantry that has passed and plagued my heart
Thoroughly since the day I first heard her speak.
I felt a tear against my cheek—
Not of joy, not of sorrow,
But of the passion I felt,
The desire within me that awoke…
That night between the puddles and raindrops—
Between the serenity of witnessing her smile
And turbulence that arose from being soaked—
I thought to myself,
Of the script that has been wrote—
Of the stage we walk and words shuttered—
Of the birds that saunter, far from us
But near enough to hear their call—
A cheerful applause of loving laudation.
The ache could not have been deeper,
The chill within set so completely,
It became a wedded part of me—
The ache could not have been deeper,
The warmth within my heart
Which was her creation—
A masterpiece of communication.

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A Poppingly Good Time
by Ryan Dodge

Life is like popcorn
See, you’ve got this bag
And it’s full of seeds
Covered in a warm, sticky liquid
When incubated, each expands over time
The timer goes off
You’re pulled from your sack
Dumped into the bowl of life
Those around you different shapes and sizes
From the fluffiest to teeniest kernel
Some people just don’t pop
When society has it’s fill
Those left behind are tossed
But fear not, the sun will rise again
And there’s always another box on the shelf

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by Art White

Michael’s the name, fitness is my game.
Been called a hunk, I wouldn’t disagree.
Ladies swoon, the guys go Zow!
Before was before, now is now.

We dance, we stretch, we balance, we ski.
We squat, stand tall and gyrate-free.
Heart throbs increase, rates decline.
Smiles appear, matching mine.

Days turn to weeks…
Flab and frowns deliquesced away,
As bods fall under my Latin sway.
Pudding’s proof, more than enough.
Come to my pool, go away buff.

In Summary…
Butt tight, skin taut,
Who woulda thought?
Abs packed, limbs limber,
Brain honed, hamstrings like timber.
Who knew? Who woulda guessed?
Michael knew. Michael knew.

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by Cathy Hanrahan

He saunters in convinced
With his hands hugging hips
His stature deceiving
As he has them all believing
He’s hanging in.
Enigma they call him
All nails and soft wood
Searching for sanity
And misunderstood
She calls him Santa Ana
Yearns to smooth the squall
That rages under wraps
Like those winds that blow in fall
I simply recognize him
As a kindred kind of foe
Smiling at his sadness
Wanting in while letting go
One day maybe we’ll drift
Along unscripted avenues
And settle down in Vegas
Saying no to yes I do

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Saved By Books
by Janet Brush

I discovered books in 1951 – I was five
the library opened three blocks away
and I could join for free.
I devoured the children’s section;
at eleven, needed a teacher’s note
to move up to ‘young adults’.
There I found one very special book
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
I saw myself in Francie Nolan,
thirsting for knowledge
in a New York tenement.
Like Francie, I found magic in printed words
Like Francie, the library opened the world to me
Allowed me to escape my narrow existence
Allowed me to believe dreams could come true.
The tree, ailanthus,
‘tree of heaven’ in Chinese lore
grew up
through cracks and fissures in the pavement
reached up
through dead rocky soil of vacant lots
nothing could keep it down
-like Francie’s dreams
-like my dreams.

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Nature’s Cry
by Dyrell Nelligan

There is spring and there is summer
When the sun shines
To me it says joy is in the air
And during the rainy times
It says to live without fear
There is autumn and there is winter
When the leaves fall
To me it says life is so dear
And during the snow fall
It says that love is near
These seasons have much to share
We just cannot see
There is so much out there
So just take this from me
That nature is something we must bear
Take it into consideration and care
Nature is in our being
So beautiful yet so rare
Nature is everlasting?
Evidently not everywhere

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Hall of the Chosen Dead
by Wendy Watkinson

strike me with a blade
and i will bleed
but look into my eyes
and you will see
that i will never die
no i will never die
shallow, deep, then over my head
swallowing me to the ground
death comes to all
darkness all around
but if I feel the pain and see the light
I will reach
the great hall of the slain the chosen dead
where a warrior never dies
no a warrior never dies
strike me with a blade
and i will never die
no i will never die

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4 Haiku
by Harry Garrison

Haiku Haiku
Five syllables first.
Seven syllables second.
Five syllables third.

Magician’s Assistant
I’m sorry, I can’t
levitate you now. I don’t
have my hula hoop!

Kissing Desire
I want to kiss you
till one of us passes out
(preferably me)!

Singing Chameleons
Background singers blend
into the background. They can
be heard but not seen.

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by Ryan Taylor

how long do you wish to stay
because you can’t stay forever
so how long do you wish to stand here with me
smoking your cigarette when I make up jokes
before you give me your number

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Within the confines
by Tamara Williams

Within the confines of a depressed mind
it’s hard to find the space and time
to reach the heights I know are mine

Within the confines of a depressed mind
Within the confines of this mind
peace of mind is hard to find

All of this possible;
With a decree written by my own hand
I am kept by Its command
Kept. ‘Til I break

Until I am within the confines of an awakened mind
I will search and follow that which has lead me
to where I am

For within the confines of each
the depressed mind and the awakened,
one constant remains
I will search for common ground
there-I shall be found

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It’s Really Quite Easy To See
by Mike McFetridge

Without naming names
And without placing blames
It’s really quite easy to see,
That the cause of our strife
During this modern life
Was created by both you and by me.

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Let Yourself Be
(for Donal and Rowena)
by Nicole Myers

Let yourself be surprised by
whispering angels pining
under a gigantic full moon
while the Heavens shimmer

in poems and novels
in stories and essays

let yourself be amazed by
the choir of honeyed voices
peacefully lamenting affection
while every star in the sky shines

for paintings and drawings
for sculptures and architecture

let yourself be elevated by
the kindness of poet’s hearts
be heard by magical ears and
stand in the rays of contentment

let yourself be honoured
let yourself go and be free

just let yourself be

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Broccoli and Brussels Sprouts
by C. A. Lamond

Broccoli and Brussels Sprouts,
I have lists of ins, they’re outs.
I don’t really need ‘um,
I’m not gonna to eat ‘um.
That they’re icky,
I have no doubts.
Please don’t bother to plate ’em,
Just accept the fact that I hate ’em.
If you bring up that spoon,
It will cause me to swoon
and my teeth
will cause sparks
as I grate ’em.
So, now you will cause me to shudder
And make me eat one or de udder.
Mommy fills up my mouth
With that sickly green growth…
Hey wait, they’re not bad with budder.

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