September 2016

cropped-ohflogo2r.jpgView Issue vol. 7, no. 7
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)

You can also read the poems by scrolling down or clicking the titles.
Click the author’s name to view a short biography (if supplied) and other poems by that author.

Bethany Rose ArtinLooking Into His Eyes

Georgia AtkinAstronomical

Meg Bairdpride’s cloak

Ella DodsonRemains of the Sabbath

David DuShower

Barbara EllisThe Door

Harry GarrisonAn Origami Paper Plane

Jari-Matti HelppiTo Bee a Flower

Jim Hoyle I see your morning face

Scot JamiesonBaby

Scott Lynchevanescent bearing

David R. MacLeanTrickledown

Robert MaderBus Poem

Harry Wayne Mahoutta space

Lorie Morris Stay

Martha MutaleTreat Her Right

Elzy TaramangalamNo Lesson in Botany

Ryan TaylorSticks and Stones

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No Lesson in Botany
Poem by Elzy Taramangalam

Banana is a berry
But strawberries are not
The yummy misnomer is an aggregate fruit.

Eggplant, tomatoes and cucumbers
Good for a veggie sandwich
Are sure fruits with colours splendid.

Add spaghetti squash to the cart
Solid when cut, stringy when cooked
A fruit beyond strange mimicking a gourd.

Now to the storied fig from the family of mulberry
The ball of flowers sealed
A bouquet brilliant in brown
White, orange, purple, yellow or green
Is a fragrant chamber
Ready for wasp balls and mate fest.

If Adam and Eve had enough sense
To eat the sacred fig
Not the voluptuous Apple
We would be ‘awake’ Sid style
Running naked in paradise
Instead of wearing fig leaves!

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Astronomical
Poem by Georgia Atkin

What are the odds
that drifting rocks and stardust
would congregate together
in the silence of space,
creating
a place called Earth,
chemically infused
with just the right amount of
everything,
so that one day
I would stand here,
pencil in hand, and wonder:
“what are the odds…?”

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Shower
Poem by David Du

A shower drips like water from a
dog’s body
When he crosses the street
Shaking, he walks
Over the lawn, leaves, dirt
And town silently
And then creeps away.

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Remains of the Sabbath
Sonnet by Ella Dodson

White tablecloths kissed by spills of red wine,
Old Sabbath tokens from festive meals,
Love filled hickeys, rubies, fruit of the vine,
Feast not consumed on good china congeals.

Joy filled blessings flutter over dark night,
Shared challah is torn, crumbs fly everywhere.
Hail Sabbath bride veiled with soft candle light
Queen ushered by mess, as husbands declare,

Praise women of valour for superb feast.
But miss bright candlesticks coated in wax,
Or needed cleaning that wives are released,
T’is time to rest, yet no time to relax.

To keep Sabbath peace, women of valour,
Ask men to help tend house, clean and scour.

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To Bee a Flower
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi

A florid bee went up to she
and said to she that he,
appreciates her petals hue
and his kisses on her knee.

She shuttered in the morning mist,
then satisfied it’s sunny.
As breezes from a distant yon
wafted with its honey.

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Stay
Poem by Lorie Morris

Stay, by me.
Stay, and talk.
Stay, and care.
Stay, and be my pal!
Stay, for a while.
Stay, ’cause you can.

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Baby
Poem by Scot Jamieson

When the room was as
big as a world,
and the world as small
as a laugh;
when happiness was
the daily wages
paid to all
your staff;
and you yourself were
the newest member
on the staff
of life –
bred for the bliss
of the bakers,
buttered
by every knife.

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An Origami Paper Plane Runs On Pencil Fuel!
Rectangle Poem By Harry Garrison

“Drawing Hands” by M. C. Escher, is a loop, two hands drawing one another, in a circle. An origami paper plane runs on pencil fuel! The laws of physics are but rough sketches. They don’t certainly need to be adhered to. The pencil is a means of artistic creation, making marks abstractly, and realistically, being used for drawing or used for writing. Writer’s blocks have letters cut into them. Is a blank page zero, or infinite autonomy? I love mathematics, but I’m terrible at it. Imaginary numbers, like -144’s square root, soar above, or dive below, the number line, changing one dimension into two dimensions, like birds on the wing, like fish swimming, as well-seen in Escher’s “Sky and Water I.”

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I see your morning face
Poem by Jim Hoyle

I saw your morning face,
smooth and smiling,
the sun shining through your downy cheeks.
Your beacon smile illuminated me.
I breathed you in.
I savoured such moments of bliss.

I was enlivened by your glance,
excited by your touch.
Your youth renewed me.
I was enlarged by you.
Your aura enveloped me.
I savoured such moments of bliss.

Now your aura shines upon another face.
You lie in other arms,
caring, tender, safe.

But still I long to grasp a part of you.
Still I see those sunny morning cheeks.
I savour still those moments of bliss.

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Looking Into His Eyes
Poem by Bethany Rose Artin

If you look at a cat
for a very long time
you will soon notice that
it has lashes sublime

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Treat Her Right
Poem by Martha Mutale

Treat her as if she was your mother
Love her, appreciate her, and protect her
Treat her as if she was your sister
Defend her, stand by her, and be proud of her
Treat her as if she was your woman
Inhale her, Caress her, and be one with her
Treat the women in your life, with respect
And stop expecting more when you give less

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The Door
Poem by Barbara Ellis

We fed and loved them in their turn
And taught them what we knew.
We paved their way and paid the toll.
Then binding webs tore through.

Kids owe us nothing now we felt

We helped them out, we held the door,
Pushed laggards from behind.
The times were theirs we liked to think
The world was theirs to find.

They owe us nothing now we knew

We held the door to take them back
Broke, strung out or mourning.
Sometimes they came, but not for long
Then took some road far from us.

We said they owe us not a thing.
We closed the door, yet hoping.

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evanescent bearing
Poem by Scott Lynch

in a blink
in a turn
in a pause
I am gone
borne
continents and oceans
vaulted like decades
colours conveyance
smells skewing states
time’s flux is obvious
every now
and
again

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Trickledown
Poem by David R. MacLean

Nature is a moving target
that allows you to target
your troublesome nature.

Track the path into the past
and forward if you can get past
your ego and back on track.

Fire up the troops, and spring
forward as if winter were spring,
as if the smokescreen were the fire.

Enough of your empty closed heart.
It is time for your heart
to tell your brain, Enough.

Changing the style and upping the effort
together will positively convert effort
into action that makes changing
Nature into a rebirth of Life
that will save your life
and reveal your true nature.

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pride’s cloak
Poem by Meg Baird

to shroud a reply
is to be willing to die for it
there’s always a certain
amount of shame in it
there’s so much we’ll never know
‘shame is pride’s cloak’ and
that’s a quote from William Blake
I don’t know what to make of it
it’s delightful and frightfully sad
so happy so glad so much yearning
inside that will never subside
it’s the life force it’s stardust
and music and poems

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Bus Poem
Poem by Robert Mader

Squeak anda squeal
I just got offa work
hiss anda half-step back
seen death of a salesman
one too many times
rev anda hum anda ding dong bell
too beautiful for mortal ears
last night I got lost
while reading the paper,
missing my stop…

stepping out into the night sky

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outta space
Poem by Harry Wayne Mah

line 1 – outta space out of space outer space
tea for 2…yes.please.
letterS in lineSpace
ideaS in headSpace
activitieS in lifeSpace
six.sicks.sex.yessssSSSssspppllLLeeezzeeeee
too many letters
too many ideas
too many activities
10
111111isalonelynumber
12
blackcatbakersdozen
14
28long
43wide
28×43=somebignumber.toomanyletters
THEY say to plan ahead but there is never enough spac
1234567890123456789012345678901234567890123
20
1my
2last
3idea
4would
5not
6shoehorn
7inside
8fine.print.insidejokebutreaderswillnotfigureoutpunchlin

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Sticks and Stones
Poem by Ryan Taylor

it seems my kneecap
bleeds over the painted rocks
it seems many will not like,
none will love much
most will mostly forget
and happily move on
losing what we’ve shared
leaving what’s left behind
it seems proper and ideal
to let pull
the stitches
from childhood wounds
not wanting
not expecting remorse
but needing

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