View Issue vol. 8, no. 3
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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Harry Garrison – Identified Flying Subjects!
Jari-Matti Helppi – Mount Helicon
Scot Jamieson – Third Eye Wine
Scott Lynch – a parade of late May
David Mac Eachern – Led By Love
Lorie Morris – Breath of Fresh Air
Ayesha Mushtaq – A Fleeting Moment…
Dyrell Nelligan – Fear of Heights
Ryan Taylor – She’s got the fire
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Third Eye Wine
Poem by Scot Jamieson
Not my first two but the third
beams past headlines, into behind
the films of Dream, and into their word.
It, like the others, from time to time,
problems finds (e.g., last night’s dream’s
punks’ impositions). I’d’ve had to abuse
but tension diffused in laughter when
dream street chicks appeared, to mention
my cool. And now with positive gladness
I savour, although asleep, the deft finesse
and open scope of “Don’t Understand” –
the art of waiting one dream extra second.
Dreams like wines taste sweet or sour
with a more besides, as often as either,
that charms the favours of the flavours
of other levels of subtlety’s force.
And after decades in the patience
of habitual inner observations,
eye 3 now also finds with meditation
a many-flavoured smorgasbord –
within the familiar blue oval expanse
pulsed this morning a new white orb,
lights in rhythms slower than heart’s,
faster than breath’s, soft stops and starts.
I am myself a wondrous dunce,
drunken, sober, and both at once,
a world of personal recompense
where senses sit, and mystery hunts.
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Led By Love
Poem by David Mac Eachern
Alike a chore of guiding the lamb
may elders see to a child’s hand
While to lead a flock to graze
over hill or through valley they lazed
Now awakened from dusk arising at dawn
where lives are aroused by nature’s song
Heeding shepherd’s call, a new daily quest
serving life in motion, accepting its test
Once reaching the point of no return
first question be what did you learn
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True love Exists.
When 2 see each other’s soul.
Drawing them together.
across the World we see it
be it East and West.
Black and White.
Love binds 2 together.
Their Hearts say it.
Their Souls speak of it.
True love is Mystery beyond words.
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Ice crystals blanket the view
from both inside and out
A view frozen with time
During these final dark days
I have felt frail and lifeless
Remembering the sorrow of what took place
In the destruction of everything I had created
That I had so delicately woven
with firm and steady hands
My body now shackled and cemented
fixed in place
Kept here by winter’s foolish
and uncertain promise
Anticipating the transformation that awaits
Is the only thing that gives me strength
Thankful that the earth will again free me
From this confinement that has for too long
become my home
Pale, dull and unforgiving cold
will soon change with the rising of the sun
Warming all in its path
No matter where they have chosen to hide
I will be there again to lift them up once more
To display their incredible brilliance
for all to see
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Identified Flying Subjects!
Rectangle Poem by Harry Garrison
Fear of Heights
Poem by Dyrell Nelligan
When I’m in your presence
my heart skips a beat.
You take me beyond reach;
Jasper mountain peaks.
Where the air is thin
and it is hard to breathe.
Now closer to the sun;
your warm body heat.
You kiss me
and knock me off my feet
yet may love carry me.
Suffering and pain foreseen
if I ever fall
from this mountain peak.
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She’s got the fire
Poem by Ryan Taylor
that feeling you get when the days
are getting longer
that day when they’re getting taller
and tallest
while the sun sleeps
and the sun wakes us
she greets you daily
first thing
and first one,
she stares through your wind shield
speaks silently
seeks
silence
feels its way past
through the rearview mirror
where the baby seat sits
and the distance feels closer
but too suddenly recedes
“quesadilla”
and baby foolish
talk consumes you
you got the fire
in early spring
her ovaries throb
its being
baby crazy
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Eagle flying high,
Frog by the well, lazily,
Ants are hard at work.
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A Fleeting Moment…
Poem by Ayesha Mushtaq
Time has fled
With my sorrows
Heartening me ahead
And I swear
I haven’t dared look back
The unrelenting snow
The banshees in the wailing winds
And then these warm foreign folks
Have administered enough discipline
For me to just keep moving
But you know, how it is
I am only human
And the snow does yield
And mighty winds do tame to a breeze
Then this heavy sun at once
Smudges these foreign intrigues
Unveiling a dear old familiar face
Amidst a thousand vicious monarchs
In that fleeting moment
I do own the world
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Mount Helicon
Poem by Jari-Matti Helppi
I plyed the road of prosody
and found the fount of Aganippe.
I sat with Naiad at her feet
and there she did give me a sip.
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you are the coastal cowgirl
and hate everything about the sea,
which is a little like ripping up
the wrapping paper when you know
your grandmother keeps it for next year—
something almost as inconsiderate as
winter itself.
but you have salt spitting from the backs of
your shoes. you never slip, never
stutter, and i’m left with my illiteracy
and bewildered compass,
stuttering as i step,
smoke spewing as the misdirection ensues
and i’m left wondering—
i still am,
if you’re wondering.
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Life Lament
Poem by Cathy Hanrahan
A lament for the cries of gulls
while below the young, muscled men
row by in their long wooden skulls
Rhododendrons with waxy green leaves
Mossy church steps
offering shaded reprieve
Memories that slip in and out
nostalgic thoughts tossed about
reminiscent of pleasant days had
and then lost
Life’s journey and its infinite cost
slowly measured in the passage of time
and the folds of a filtering mind
that dwells and swells sweetly sure
its recollections forever pure
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Together once, but now she sleeps.
Silent and still she lies.
She sleeps, but now she stirs,
tousled hair spread upon the pillow.
Again she stirs; her eyelids flicker,
barely open, but she sees
and gives alluring glance,
lips apart, incipient, enticing smile;
gentle stirring, gentle murmur;
a reach, a touch, a suggestion.
Together once ……
….. together again.
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Breath of Fresh Air
Poem by Lorie Morris
You, are a breath, of fresh air!
You, make the days feel, like spring.
You, make me feel, like I’m the best!
You, always know, what to say.
You, are a breath, of fresh air!
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Winter Poem One
Poem by Art Bouman
Never has the failing tree line
Stood up crisp against the horizon
Strong while failing shrines
To la Santa Meurta are simple and serene
But you
sister are buried in the snow
Quiet and at peace waiting for the rain
To come running and for a spring
To come closing in behind
Panting out your name
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Coal dust rises, shimmering waves in the
hot, hazy afternoon-sun piercing the sky
Nothing moves, not even the leaves covered
in the ancient grime of unpaved streets
Houses painted white, peeling, speckled
grey now in places
From the many layers of blowing winds that
carve the prairie,
Cavernous mine pits filled with water, cool
havens for kids swimming,
Mountainous peaks on each side where the
earth has been dug,
Black and red against a deep blue sky, a
cloud not in site
It is too hot-
Two teens sit close in the old chevy parked
near an almost shade tree
Sweat runs slowly down their backs, legs
stick to vinyl seats
Listening to songs of days gone by
Crickets chirping- the only creature that
dare disturb the heat
Mother Nature herself resting
Until a cooler evening can rouse the birds
from their resting places
All is still- almost deathlike
An eeriness not felt anywhere else
Save in the hot prairie summer.
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Samba to Salsa
Poem by Ella Dodson
Sassy old tomato swinging her hips
Samba music sizzles, shimmies and dips
Simmering hot honcho swaying on by
Catches her rhythm with a sultry eye,
Sidling in closer he feints and slips
To steal a taste of her salsa lips.
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a parade of late May
Poem by Scott Lynch
from the marsh at roadside
as natural as the rising sun
a parade of vernal awe
to my family of fledgling boys
craning with glee to see the wonder
a riotous clamor from my three
“What is it ?”
“Oh look !”
“I can’t see”
“How many?”
military in formation
but on bandy little legs
stumbling across the roadway
a mother and eight ducklings
frenetic like the season
and every bit a joy
to watch them jump the curb
propelling themselves skyward
following mom out of sight
the coos of amazement
still resonating in my ears
“They’re so cute!”
meaning every word
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birdbrains
Haiku by Harry Wayne Mah
mourning nightingale
in lament tweets more content
than a midnight thumb
Open Heart Forgery 
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