View Issue vol. 8, no. 1
ISSN 2369-6516 (Print)
ISSN 2369-6524 (Online)
You can also read the poems by scrolling down or clicking the titles.
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Georgia Atkin – Latitude and Longitude
Sarah Carter – A Winter Afternoon
Ella Dodson – Crone’s Job Hunt
Cathy Hanrahan – The Faery Tree
Scot Jamieson – Imagine the Truth
Scott Lynch – blue accrue(ing)
David Mac Eachern – Self Incarceration
Harry Wayne Mah – o r i g a m ! 6 5 0
Dyrell Nelligan – My Silent Night
SarahEllen – A Memory
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I Didn’t Know
Poem by Lori Boivin
I’m sorry, I didn’t know
it hurt when I didn’t care.
I didn’t know that my presence
would make you happy and sad
at the same time.
I’m sorry, I didn’t know
exactly how many tears you shed
because of something I said
or did.
I’m sorry, I didn’t know
your heart was slowly breaking
behind your smile
and you were trying not to cry.
Now it’s too late.
No longer can I say to you
those words to help you heal.
No longer can I help you
brush away those tears.
Now I’m sorry.
I didn’t know.
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A Winter Afternoon (Frog Pond)
Poem by Sarah Carter
(The sun glinting at the tops
Of the trees)
We stand,
Atop a snow-packed knoll
Like ski jumpers–
Poised–
Anticipating the snowy path
Stealing out beneath our feet,
The dark, leafless twigs and branches
A still backdrop,
Silent witnesses
To my wonder at the beauty
I am suddenly–
Forcibly–
A part of,
An unwitting participant
In the cult
Of sun and snow.
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This sorrowful hell we live upon
Each night a harrowing tale
The days filled with naught but hate
For each soul strives to perfection
Ignoring the imperfections in us all
Titles and honorifics are all that hold us
When in death we are all equal
Let not this light be lost
For all hope is not gone
But rests within our hearts
Conform not to hate
Be the one of love & hope
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Imagine the Truth
Poem by Scot Jamieson
There’s no such thing
as an ugly truth,
just ugly facts.
There are no
beautiful lies, just
beautiful fantasies.
That there are
truthful beauties
is a beautiful truth.
I’ve no time for eternity,
but eternity holds time . . .
I pray my dead soul
Might find its hidden key to
All its locked love –
Gift that could not be –
Inside its fine moral security,
“Never” to transform,
Exacting a new destiny.
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blue accrue(ing)
Poem by Scott Lynch
squirting cerulean liquid
again and again
salt stains streaks stays
clinging snow and icicles
harbingers of a tetchy temper
windows still sullied
snow banks embarrassed
that they can’t stay quite white
sunshine is cold
as ephemeral sea smoke dances
on the sapphire harbour
glaucous gulls not knowing
what to do with themselves
just drift over sepulchral trees
steel slush puddles are deceptive at -8C
rightly I’ve been off winter
ever since Blue Monday
but forge forlornly on
through another brumal passage
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Rivers III
Poem by Victor Andrews
Langston Hughes my brother
I’ve known rivers too
I was born on the banks
Of a river
You had to open your mouth wide
To pronounce
Ungaretti my brother
Born on the Nile
I share your loneliness
In war
On the Isonzo river
On the Serchio or on the Seine
I see only a lake
The North West Arm
There used to be a stream
A chocolate factory
Mill wheels
A zoo
But they’re long gone
The animals died
My soul grew deeper
With memories of you
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My Silent Night
Poem by Dyrell Nelligan
At night I sit
lonely with the moon.
So far away it is
yet it’s the closest thing to me.
It sits here by my bedside
outside my window bright.
It brightens my lonely mind.
It accompanies my lonely sight.
This neglected famous artist
cast a moonlit canvas.
My mind’s found peace from it.
I lay, sleep in it.
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Paper Soul
Poem by Nadia LaCroix
I’ve been reading
A lot about you
It’s been years
Since I was that fool
My supper is cold
And the fire is barely burning
But I’m mesmerized
By words describing memories
Still freshly inked in my mind
Parts of your body
Come and go
With every comma, between spaces
Like that night
In my sheets
I’ve been reading
I’m glad you’re well
So I’m writing
On a napkin
Those few words
Still lingering on my shoulders
Before I finally wipe
This plate clean
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The Faery Tree
Poem by Cathy Hanrahan
Walnuts, wine and clementines
The fantasy lines
of life’s edible limits.
Spread out beneath the faery tree
On a picnic of whimsy
With wishes and whines
And tickled pink lines
gently winding through simply put whispers.
But then the rogue Cromwell levied sunshine
rendering airy windows sublime
And the colored shards of cloth roughly torn
were hung on that thorny Hawthorne
and picnics became nothing more
than a dream made of open wide doors
leading to lands that promised free light
for those Irish souls driven to flight
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Crone’s Job Hunt
Sonnet by Ella Dodson
Crone applies for jobs which state “required”
The skills and knowledge that she has acquired
From toiling hard years, being underpaid.
Never interviewed, leaves her quite dismayed.
Her insight and skills clearly overwhelm
And emasculate the “Wise Men of Chelm”.
Powerful men dictate crones do not fit
Fear old women have far more wit with grit.
Too “experienced” means youth are desired
Succession concerns, old women not hired
No job, no cash for last third of her life,
Her rage now fuels change, brings social strife.
A bias against crones: social disease!
Harms kin and world by shunning expertise.
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You are tired,
Your body limped in the sky.
You know you will drop down into a dark world.
You know the darkness is like hell,
It’s very hard to overcome the darkness.
It’s a long journey!
However, you know tomorrow you will recover to
….the sunshine world,
You still have a bright smile.
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Walking
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi
I walked upon a troddened earth,
and there I found a troddened berth.
I went inside my place of rest,
and let my earth give me its best.
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o r i g a m ! 6 5 0
Poem by Harry Wayne Mah
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Tiny, vivid thoughts,
or pithy sentences, or
jokes in matchboxes.
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Kind Eyes
Poem by Lorie Morris
Kind eyes, looking at me.
Kind eyes, of wonder.
Kind eyes, waiting.
Kind eyes, of love.
Kind eyes, old and timeless.
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Latitude and Longitude
Poem by Georgia Atkin
When she spoke,
her words flew like skipping stones
across a pond at first light,
creating
ripples of silver
in the mind of every listener.
We listened hard.
The sound of her voice
was a sparrow-song in winter,
re-orienting us
towards
the latitude and longitude
of brighter days to come.
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I can’t see them through the lens
Because the sun is too bright
But I can hear them
As they run through the shallow waves
Screaming their laughter
Like children do
Calling “watch this, watch me”
While they show off
Their latest swim class acrobatics
These moments are fragile
Some memories will fade
These fleeting days of warmth
I will hold fast
As long as I can
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Self Incarceration
Poem by David Mac Eachern
Darkened day of light forever night grew
long month edging slowly dragging on through
Time seemingly plenty, though nothing to do
truly thought without action would save few
Storm raging with force, ship sinking fast
spirit being drained, courage must out last
Coming to life since arisen from blues
existence having meaning not given to lose
Oncoming rush alike strong breath of air
mind no longer imprisoned, time running fair
Open Heart Forgery 
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